I've said it before. My house is small. About 1100 square feet. Usually, we make it work just fine. But today...today has been different. Could it be the discovery that Baby has grown 2 3/4 inches since January?
Sad, but true.
This morning I was having my slaves, I mean, children help with the laundry before we started school. Brother and Sister were in the living room folding the whites. I heard the buzzer on the dryer and walked to the laundry room to empty it. You've seen pictures of my laundry room. There is about a 12"x12" square of floor to stand on. I stand in that spot, lean over and grab a huge armload of laundry to dump on the couch for the slaves, I mean, children to fold. Apparently that little patch of floor is a prime location for eating bananas because Baby decided to do just that right next to my feet. As I turn to deliver the armload, which is blocking my view of my feet and the floor beneath me, I trip over her, knocking her over and almost killing myself in an effort to keep from squashing her like a cute, little bug. Clean laundry falls on a not-so-clean floor. Re-wash it? Of course not! Pick it up, dust it off and deliver it to the couch.
Phase two of our productive morning: Table Time. This is the hour in the morning we spend on "book learnin' ". We do our workbooks, worksheets and other things that involve writing or drawing. With three people calling my name and needing my attention, most of this time is a blur. But one part I remember vividly is Baby fussing about being at the table with us. After trying to appease her with various things, I finally let her down to get into whatever trouble she is sure to find. Brilliant move on my part. She is toddling around the kitchen and wanders into the laundry room. Then she comes back into the kitchen and I hear a thud. She is standing there rubbing her eye, but not crying. I'm thinking she bumped her head or her eye or something, but since she's not wailing I give her a quick "Aw, are you okay?" and try to control the Play Doh chaos that is erupting at the table. Pretty soon she scurries up to the bench with Sister and Brother and starts clamoring for some Play Doh. They're all playing and making a grand mess when I turn and notice Baby's face. There is something red all over it. At first I thought she had tried to shove red Play Doh up her nose. But upon closer inspection I discover her nose has been bleeding and she has smeared it all over.
10:00 a.m. and we're rockin' and rollin'.
Fast forward to lunchtime. I make the kids bean burritos, serve them and they begin eating. Then I make my lunch. By the time I sit down, Brother has downed his and wants another. I hop up and start to make him one. He gets up and comes to stand on top of me...I mean, right next to me.
"Hey, Mom, where's my Kool-Aid?" he asks.
"It's in that pitcher in the sink. I just have to finish stirring it."
"I'll do it." He begins to stir.
There are just enough beans left to make Brother's burrito.
Sister chimes in from the table, "Mommy, I want another, too!"
"I don't want to stir anymore," says Brother. He spies me stealing beans from his tortilla and putting some on half a tortilla for Sister. He is right up next to me, sticking his face in it all. "Is there enough?"
I'm feeling a little irritated. "Yes, go sit down."
"Are you sure? I'm really hungry."
"Yes, sit down." I take his to the microwave which is located in my spacious laundry room. I stand on my little square of floor space and lean over the laundry hamper to pop it in. Brother, being the inquisitive and very obedient child he is, is right there, observing all the incredibly interesting details of microwaving canned refried beans and a little cheese on a tortilla. Fascinating stuff.
"GO SIT DOWN!" I say sweetly. And he promptly does.
I return to the kitchen to pour them Kool-Aid and he is right back up, invading my space.
SPACE!! SPACE!!! MY KINGDOM FOR SPACE!!!
I finally get Brother's and Sister's second helping finished and sit down to eat my lunch, when Baby, who is finished eating, is crying, reaching for me and saying, "Na Na!", which means "night-night" or "I want to go to bed NOW!"
I scarf down my lunch with Baby on my lap, whining and trying to lift up my shirt. All you nursing moms know what that means, right? And I dream of wide open spaces, where my children can scream and yell outside the 3 feet circumference around me.
Who am I kidding? It wouldn't matter how much space I have, they are going to be underfoot for a while. And really, I guess I'm glad for that.
But in the meantime, maybe I can get Ty What's-His-Name with the washboard abs to come makeover my house, Extreme-style.
Dear Ty and the Extreme Makeover Home Edition Team,
I am a stay-at-home, homeschooling mother of three very large, very loud,
very energetic children and wife to a man with huge feet. We are
squished like sardines. Please come build us a really, really big house
1. our children grow more and the house actually explodes
2. I am forced to check myself into the nearest looney bin.
P.S. Never mind. I think the looney bin sounds wonderful. I'll
have a private room, right?