I have something I need to get off my chest.
No matter how many viral posts I may write, or what my stats may be on any given day – my dining room floor will almost always look like this:
Shall we catch up?
Hearken back with me to the days of yore – namely, last week. My sister aged a year and threw a party to celebrate. They decorated Grampaw’s house to look like a speakeasy, which was ironic because Prohibition has been alive and well in that home for lo, these many years. But they pulled it off and we had us a fun Mafia Murder Mystery, complete with costumes.
(No, it’s because their favorite babysitter lets them play Wii as much as they want and they didn’t look up when we left.)
Anyway, it should be noted that I held my sweet new nephew and sniffed his newborn head and it was glorious. And my ovaries made nary a sigh. All is well.
Yesterday, just as I was getting ready to start my work-out, the dentist called. I forgot to take the five oldest kids to their dental appointments. They told me I only had time to bring three so we raced out the door and I made it to the office with three children and no shoes on. They must love me there – the flaky mom who shows up half dressed.
Willa got her first teeth cleaning and the hygienist thought I might want to document it. I took pity on poor baby #5 and we made sure she’d have a picture to show her children some day. “See, kids? My parents dressed as gangsters but they did encourage good oral hygiene – when they remembered.”
And, finally, we’re studying World War 2 this week, soldiering firmly on like Christmas break isn’t breathing down our necks. The kids are soaking up all sorts of information from the books I handed them and are quickly outstripping me in knowledge. Today, Ian and I learned how to blow the yolk out of eggs so he could make a model balloon flotilla like they had in the London Blitz.
And if you followed that, may I congratulate you on your nerd-hood.
I got so distracted by my nine year old’s puffed-out cheeks and how they made him look like he did when he was two that I completely forgot the point of the project and resorted to singing “Sunrise, Sunset” in the kitchen.
Ian went on un-phased.
Which is beginning to be a theme in our little world, isn’t it?
Our babysitter is the oldest of seven and she told me that one of the perks of being in a large family is that you really do “roll with it” well. You learn flexibility. You are comfortable that sometimes someone will forget to tell you the plan and you’re just along for the ride.
And just as I was sitting here trying to tie this up in a neat little bow, Sam proved me wrong. Ian is at a friend’s house for the night and since Sam has already experienced this particular bit of fun, I figured it was no big deal. But the nine year old who put his head in my lap and cried because his missed his twin brother?
He tells me you can’t just roll with everything.
So I guess this will end as messy as my dining room floors. A swirl of humanity, brother-and-sisterhood, confusion, laughter, and tears. Just like my life.
But without the newborn smell. Finn mostly smells like spit and peanut butter…