Saturday, February 14, 2009

Just In Time


An ideal day, here at our school, begins with our Big 5. It includes the basic chores and personal grooming that every person should do, every day of their lives. They are:
  1. Make Bed

  2. Say Prayers

  3. Tidy Room

  4. Brush Teeth

  5. Get Dressed--includes fixing hair

Seems pretty straight forward and simple, right? Not so. These activities, which are to be done before one gets breakfast, has taken as long as ALL STINKIN' DAY.

Today, however, each child did get their Big 5 done, I had done my own morning chores and the house looked tidy and presentable by about 11 am. I then sat down with my book. I can get pretty absorbed in a book and I am reading an especially tense and raw one right now (All Quiet on the Western Front, if you care). In that short space of time, when I was completely absorbed, the children managed to wreck the house. Yes, I was on the couch, even, and not hidden away somewhere.

It should also be explained that in our small house, we do not have a family room, per se. That means that all blanket forts and cushion slides and other childhood edifices are built in the living/dining room.

One thing I cannot ignore during my reading time, is snot (blood, hopefully, goes without saying). I had just taken care of the nose of one of my pods when the doorbell rang. I reached over and opened the door to our mail man. Our mail man is really a great guy. He is funny and kind and remembers the names of each of our many children. He also has a way of coming at the wrong time.

After opening the door, I took a quick glance around the room and felt my stomach sink. There was a crazy cushion/pillow/magazine rack slide that our seven month old baby was attempting to scale. Someone had taken the empty bag of Marshmallow Mateys and dumped the cereal crumbs all over my freshly swept floor, making it look like maybe I never sweep. The table was strewn with art supplies, which, by The Law of Art Supplies, must be strewn. I was even holding a snotty tissue in my hand.

Crap.

At least we were all dressed. . . this time.

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