What Do You Do All Day?

A friend of mine posted this on facebook. I read it, laughed, nearly cried, and decided to write my own response.
Dear Tacoma,
You wonder what I do all day. Sometimes I wonder myself. Well, let's review.
This morning I woke up to my alarm clock. She is nine months old and tends to go off earlier than I set her for. She also requires extra substance every few hours to keep working. I gave it to her and waited for her to reach snooze mode. Then I tried to lay down for my extra '15' but my second alarm went off. She is five and wanted the cookies we had made the previous night. Her owner's manual specifically said no refined sugar before 7am but seeing as how I am horrible at reading directions I allowed it in the hope of at least 5 more uninteruppted minutes. This was when my third alarm went off. (Yes, I have quite a few. I don't jump out of bed as easily as I use to). This alarm is the seven year old model. She has an established routine. She knows what to do in the morning. She still likes to ask though. I give up the sleep and try to hit a shower before the snooze button wakes up. While in the shower there is a constant pounding on the door. I turn the water to hot and try to ignore it. While stepping out of the shower I realize that the pounding has ceased. This actually worries me. I grab the nearest towel which happens to have a hood, doesn't fit, and makes me look like a butterfly - literally. Turns out the three year old alarm has woken. She was pounding to see if she could have some cereal. Seven year old  is actually at the table pouring cereal and telling her to come eat but she needs me to verify the idea. She stopped pounding because the nine month old has awoken. I ask in a loud voice where my nine year old is. I recall that she is usually the most reliable. She is still asleep. The seven year old informs me that she stayed up late last night reading comic books under her covers. I do a quick change and brush my teeth while holding the nine month old. Grabbing the toothbrush is her favorite game. I look in the mirror and decide that the make-up game is over-rated.

Breakfast is an easier affair. They all are sitting, someone has remembered to feed the dog, we pray, they all are helping. I am feeding the nine month old who is hungry again. I try to grab bites in between. The nine year old finishes first and reads scriptures. I send them all to the bathroom to brush their teeth. The five and three year old need help. We brush hair and change diapers....again.  I start the dishes while the older girls start their math work but have to stop when the three year old informs me she has had an accident in the bathroom. I stop to disinfect, throw her in a mini-bath, change clothes etc. When I am done I realize the others have stopped their math for a game of octopus in the living room. By now it is time for their kung fu class. The older girls change. We climb in the car and make it on time. While watching the older girls I struggle to go over the alphabet with the three and five year old while keeping the nine month old from crawling onto the mat and keeping up a civilized conversation with the woman sitting next to me. I notice she has make-up on.

After class is over they are claiming starvation. I load them up and we hit the five buck pizza joint and try to eat in the car. Then we head over to sign them up for a summer camp their friends are attending. I am hoping this will stop them from feeling unsocialized. I realize the camp is in a country club. There is a sign over the door that reads, 'proper attire required'. My kids have pizza sauce on their faces and are wearing kung fu clothes and flip flops. I wipe off the sauce with a wet wipe. There is no one there. A lady upstairs comes down and tries to tell me in spanish that children are not allowed. I wave my hands to show I don't understand. She gets a gentleman who lets me know that the summer sign up is in the building across the parking lot, next to the swimming pool, behind the tennis courts. I let him know that next year they should have a feature that lets people sign up online.

After the sign up is complete and my pocketbook is feeling lighter (notice how one check will do that?) I head home. I tell the girls they must all bring in three things from the car. When the babyseat is removed, the three year old unbuckled, and the seats let down for the older girls to climb out I recall that I was going to hit the grocery store on the way home. Oh well.

The girls change and we finish the math lesson and do a quick reading review. I am doing this while nursing the baby . Then I go in to make them a spinach multi-vitamin smoothie hoping it will negate the cookies and cheap pizza. They are good kids so they drink it.  I lay the baby down for a nap then send the older girls to do their separate reading and start going over numbers with the younger ones. They are bouncing up every time they say a number. This is great until one of them knocks the other over and gives her a huge bump. I get the ice. The baby starts screaming from the other room.

And that is where I am at in my day. Sitting here nursing the baby again and hoping and knowing it will not make her finish her nap. The younger ones are watching a movie (one applying the ice) and I can hear a sound from upstairs that means at least one older child is not reading. It is 3pm. I realize I have not started the dishwasher after the interupption and I never made it the store which means there is not a lot to eat. The five year old has her class at 4:30, and its Monday so I have a family home evening to plan and dessert to make.

Does this mean my life is harder than yours? No. You have deadlines, office politics, and a whole slew of things I know nothing about. It simply means that our lives are different. Right now I commend you for 'getting it all done,' mostly because I know that someday you won't be able to. Whether it is a new harder job, a boyfriend, the loss of someone you love or perhaps kids of your own. I hope when that time comes you have a good friend who understands that a 'no call' does not mean you don't care.

Sincerely,
Mother of Five