9am Miles watches a Thomas the Train DVD...again and Gwen and I read books while Richie tidied up the house.
10am Got the kids dressed, got ourselves dressed in our finest work wear and headed outside to clean up the yard. The kids thought it was fun for the first 10 minutes and then it was a constant battle. We raked leaves, hauled the leaves onto the garden, picked up millions of sticks that our willow tree likes to leave, swept the patio and mowed the lawn.
1015 am Forced Miles to stay outside even though he was cold. Bribed him with money for doing chores. He thought that was a good deal.
1017 am Reminded Miles of his chore money that he was earning after he started whining again. He pitched in and picked up some sticks.
1020 am Richie lets Miles help him push the lawn mower. Gwen is jealous and starts crying, so Richie puts Gwen on his shoulders.
1030 am I have one of those moments where I feel the spirit at an unexpected time. I'm hauling leaves in a laundry basket to our garden, and I look over and see my husband teaching and loving our children while they all mow the lawn together. I think my heart might just burst.
1130 am We give each of the kids a dollar and take them to the gas station down the street and let them pick out a treat. Gwen grabs 2 small candies and Miles chooses a fountain root beer. Richie and I exchange one of those looks that says, "Man that was hard, but wasn't it great??" Eventually Gwen wants Miles' soda, and Miles wants Gwen's candy, but neither of them wants to share. Of course, you saw that coming right?
1230 pm The kids watch some "Shaun the Sheep" (one of the few kids shows we all actually like) while Richie and I finish the yard work that didn't get done because the kids were "helping". Miles goes to the fridge to drink some more soda and as he reaches for it, knocks it over, spilling it all over the kitchen floor. Poor kid. Lunch. Naps. Hallelujah, we made it.
2 pm We both work on our lessons and our talks for the upcoming Sunday. Richie finally rips off those awful blue shutters with hearts in them from the front of the house and takes off all the door nobs and other such accessories so I can paint them. They all need a little sprucing and TLC from a can of spray paint.
3 pm I slink off to the grocery store to buy meat. We don't eat hardly any meat these days, but Thanksgiving just didn't seem finished without the traditional bird to feast on. I found 2 drumsticks for $2.50. Score! I also run by the library to return that awful Thomas DVD. Sneaky mom, yes?
4 pm The kids are still napping and I wrestle with the two choices before me. Cook dinner or shower. Dinner, shower, dinner shower...I try my best to throw dinner in the oven and clean up the kitchen. Showers are for rookies. Instead I change from my hole-in-the-knee-jeans to my other pair of jeans that are slightly nicer, keep the same pj shirt on but spring for some deodorant, and change my sweater from the one that says,"I'm not trying at all" to the one that says, "Ok, I'm trying a little".
515pm Try to force some food down the kids so that we won't be late to the very special end of our family day, a "big movie" as it's called around these parts. A first for Baby Gwen. "Brave" is finally at the cheap seats in Sandy. Too bad the turkey wasn't cooked enough to eat. We left it in the oven cooking on low just to torment Ozzy. We pumped the kids up to hurry them along, and both were pretty excited, until "Brave" turned out to be a little bit darker than Miles was expecting and he kept asking to go home.
630 pm Feel the spirit unexpectedly again while watching a movie with my family. Richie and I steal a glance again, over the kids in between us, and smile.
8 pm Get the kids in bed, feast on our gluttonous turkey legs, more yam and apple casserole and watch "Prison Break" re-runs until we're sufficiently tired. What a fantastic way to spend a day, even if I didn't get a shower.
2 comments:
LOVED this post! LOVE that you LOVE being a parent!
Didn't know you could paint doorknobs and hinges. What color, and how did they turn out?
Great post, Rachie!
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