You're getting sleeeeeeeepy....

There's nothing in the world like lack of sleep to put a damper on the school day. Today I was reading the Little Princess her stories for Language Arts, and I kept nodding off. Usually, I am okay with my tendency to mismanage my personal sleep time. But every now and then after getting home from Walmart at 2am, even when I get to sleep all the way to 8am, I just can't seem to stay awake through the kids' story time.

I knew that I was having to shake off sleep while reading Ox-cart Man, but it was not until she finally protested "Mom, I can't understand what you're saying!!!" that I realized what she was hearing sounded more like "shm herm hm nuh buh." We decided that mom needed a nap. So I cuddled under a blanket while muttering to the 9 yr old to play with the baby and let me know if he needed help. Fifteen minutes later, I was awakened by said baby slapping me in the face with a wooden spatula. Oh well. That was fifteen minutes more sleep than I had fifteen minutes previously, right?

On another note, a few weeks ago this household decided to cut out tv for 30 days. It doesn't take a genius to figure out who this hurts the most: mother. For example, the very first night of the tv fast, the baby got a tummy bug. Now everyone knows that if you have to stay sitting up in the recliner all night long with a sick baby, you should get to have some mindless entertainment, right? So my sweet hubby said, "We can just start over after the kids are better. Go ahead and watch."

The strangest thing happened right after that...this voice (that sounded alarmingly like my own) came back with: "No, because then there will be some other compelling reason for us to 'break fast,' and I don't want to start out that way." I still haven't figured out where that came from.

It's amazing how much our parenting can change as we add more morsels to the package.

1st baby: sterilize everything and keep hand sanitizer loaded and ready to fire at everyone who looks like they might even be interested in thinking about asking to hold that baby; no candy or soda ever until at least the 2nd birthday; tv restricted to 30 minutes per day maximum no matter what.

2nd baby: pacifiers and teething rings that hit the floor can be rinsed or even wiped with a baby wipe; if the little darling sees big bro/sis with a lollipop it won't hurt to let him have a little taste; maybe an hour of tv won't hurt every few days.

3rd baby: pick off the fuzz and hand it back...5 second rule may turn into 5 minute rule when applied to the cheerios that hit the floor; smarties can keep the baby quiet long enough for me to finish this important phone call; if I put the baby in front of the tv I wonder how many dishes I can get washed before he starts crying again?

4th baby: when baby starts crawling I won't have to sweep as often; big sis, if you don't share your candy with the baby I'm gonna take it all and you won't get any; tv is the best way for mommy to get a little extra sleep after staying up shopping at Walmart all last night...it's also great for babysitting toddlers while big kids do school...it can even be used to bribe little ones into eating their broccoli!

5th baby: You don't even want to know, and I don't want to tell cause you might call in the authorities!

Oh, and don't forget to go down to the bottom of the page and guess why I cleaned house. The big reveal will come in Tuesday's blog.

Just look what you've been missing

Do you really wanna know? Well, Saturday (Mar 29) The Destroyer threw up a couple of times. We tossed it up (ha ha) to the load of candy which he had stolen from siblings and stashed all over the house on Easter Sunday and dug out to eat all that day. Naturally, we thought it was all over since no one else got sick.

On Wednesday night, my hubby and I went to a wonderful meeting in Atlanta and left the little guys home with Auntie SIL. We came home quite late, and all the little darlings were in bed. On Thursday evening (after my last post) The Daredevil (19 months) started his bout with the heaves. He stayed at it most of the night, and then at 3:30 he was suddenly done and suddenly AWAKE. Nuther sleepless night in Georgia.

No surprises when The Quiet One started in on Saturday. And his timing was perfect if you ask the Destroyer, who was just about to get some discipline *ahem* for drawing all over his brother's dresser, when suddenly The Quiet One started throwing up in a bucket in his bedroom (that kid never can seem to make it to the bathroom so we keep a bucket near the bed). All thoughts of the dresser went flying away, and the Destroyer got off free.

But the worst of all was when Encyclopedia Brown chimed in on Sunday afternoon. We were in the van doing 65 mph when I saw him bolt upright out of the corner of my eye. I immediately started to apply the brake. I know that the men on their motorcycles right behind me had some sweet thoughts about us. In the van, the conversation went something like this:

me: "Sweetie, are you okay?" (knowing he wasn't and swerving off the road trying desperately to make it in time)
him: "I think I'm gonna...*ralph...retch...raaaaaalph*"
daughter: "Maaaaaaahhhhhhm! He threw up all over my favorite doll!" (note that whichever toy of hers he had just doomed to the trash can would automatically become her favorite).

At that moment, I wished I could be anyone but mom for about an hour.

About then the phone rang. I picked it up and heard, "Shelley?"
"Yeah Jimmy." (dear friend of ours)
"Are you on the side of the road?"
"Yep."
"Are you all right? Did you break down? I can turn around!"
"Well, we're fine except that my son just threw up all over the van."
"Oh, well, I uh, I thought maybe you were stranded. Okay, well I'll let you get back to that."
"Thanks Jimmy." Ugh.

So, there I was, on the side of the road, elbow deep in ick, cleaning while trying not to add to the ick with some of my own. Meanwhile, the two little toddlers who had been rudely awakened from their naps by the commotion were protesting their plight at the top of their lungs. My daughter couldn't understand why I wouldn't let her run around on the side of the road and flirt with traffic (which she only wanted to do after I rather forcefully told her that she may NOT watch me clean up...what is wrong with her?!). The little sick culprit was now feeling much better (naturally), but complained sourly when I refused to try to clean the puke off his Nintendo magazine so he could keep it. And my brother's wife stood about 6 feet away, facing any direction but mine, waiting for my dad to come take her back home. She was Not going to babysit.

Where's the Calgon when you really need it?

Well, the Little Princess was unfortunately not spared and that evening could be found hugging the toilet and doing what I imagine every little 6 yr old drama queen does when in this state: crying her wee little eyeballs out. The next night she was feeling better, but I woke often throughout the night to the peaceful sounds of my hubby's sister having her turn with the toilet love-affair.

Thanks be to Jesus that my husband and I did not have to go through it. But seriously, why couldn't they all get it at once and have done with it? It took a week and a half for it to run through everyone (including my parents downstairs). And after all that, I sure was glad to have Spring Break with the kids last week.

Other noteworthy happenings in the household: Auntie SIL has left us and moved back home to Charleston. We miss her and are readjusting to having the household back down to 9. I'm sure the septic tank (designed for a family of four, hee hee) is much happier. If she is reading this, she'll be surprised to know that the living room has been restored to it's former grandeur. I clean when I'm angry or depressed...okay, also when there's company a-comin' or when the dust bunnies revolt and start dragging children under the beds. You can place your bets as to which one inspired me to move all the furniture and vacuum every little cranny. There's a poll at the bottom of the page.

Also, the dog, who had become accustomed to being let out whenever SIL took a smoke break, has been moping around and even peed on the floor once cause we didn't get her out in time. And now she is snuggled up on the couch with my hubby, both of them sleeping peacefully, as I should be. Love to you all, and be blessed! Oh, and stay away from those tummy bugs...vomit is not as glamorous as the super models would have you think.

I'm reading a new book by Peter Walsh called Does This Clutter Make My Butt Look Fat?. It had no special allure to me as a diet book, but the title intrigued me, so I picked it up. Flipping through it, I found that it had a whole huge section on organizing your kitchen and closet, grocery lists, and menu planning. It jumped into my buggy. Funny how that happens sometimes.

Well, it took me about a week to carve out enough time in my bathroom, er, study to read to the part about organizing the kitchen. So, yesterday I took upon myself the task of completely rearranging the kitchen. I have wanted to do this for a couple of years, but haven't had any idea how to go about it. With Peter's help, I set about tossing out stuff I no longer want or need and emptying my cupboards. As you can imagine, with 5 kids this (or any other task, for that matter) can turn into an all day affair.

My dear husband pointed out to me last night about 8pm that the wonderful time each year when we all get to lose one whole hour of sleep was once again upon us. This meant that the kids were already an hour late getting to bed if we didn't want to be awaking 4 angry bears early Sunday morning. (Did I already mention that Encyclopedia Brown was in Tennessee with the Royal Rangers having a sleepover at the Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum?)

Anyway, this revelation (Daylight Savings Time) was made to me while the kitchen floor was knee-deep in the contents of the cupboards, and I was given my marching orders about getting the kids in bed! My well-intentioned husband wanted me to leave the rest of the "organizing" for later (presumably today), and get ready for bed so that I wouldn't be exhausted at work/church today. When I informed him that I positively could not go to bed with dirty dishes in the sink, he sweetly offered to do them while I laid out everyone's clothes for the morning. I told him that I did not want to be greeted with a dirty sink in the morning, and he said he'd take care of it.

Now let me preface this by saying that I would never complain about my husband over this matter. He is the most helpful man I know when it comes to pitching in with the house and kids. But, truth is, he has some sort of mental block against finishing dishes. He would definitely explode if he washed everything down to the last fork. So this morning, I woke up to a kitchen still knee-deep in stuff and a sink full of dishes! AAAAAAAHHHHHH! He meant well, though.

And I didn't get home tonight until after 9:30 at which point I decided that it would all just have to sit there cuz I am done for the day. I can't see it hurting to put it off one more night, can you? Oh, and by the way, the sink full of dishes was technically a sink with a partially washed pot. There, now see? I didn't let myself exaggerate!

Another crazy day. I haven't damaged any children yet, but the day is still young! I think my day seems to go better when I get every last dish washed the night before and wake up to a shiny, smiling sink (ala flylady). School has started out very slowly today, but Monday's are always like that because of the busy day at church (where I work as the Preschool Coordinator) on Sunday.

Over the weekend, I cleaned out closets. I managed to put together 4 large boxes and one bag of items to send to Goodwill, along with two boxes and 3 bags of things that just needed to be trashed. Loren (dh) and I also continued to work on his sister's bedroom downstairs. That was another 4 large bags of trash and another box for Goodwill that I cleaned out of my parents things they had stashed in that room. Loren, meanwhile, busied himself with hanging sheetrock.

It never ceases to amaze me how much stuff we have piled into this house. I send Loren off to Goodwill with a pickup truck load of things about every other weekend, and we still have stuff up to our eyeballs! Where does it come from? I think the junk is multiplying like little rabbits intent on repopulating the place. And with 10 people in our house, it isn't any wonder!

Anyway, I think that Monday should be our day of rest. That's what our Senior Pastor does, and it makes sense to me. Sunday is just about the busiest day of my week! But on Monday, there's still homeschooling that must get accomplished. So I guess I'm back to the hypothesis that I've held to for several years now (well, ever since baby 5 came along): "I can rest when I die!!!"