Friday, September 21, 2012

Just Another Day

In this exact moment, my 3 year old is sitting on a kitchen chair, eating Life cereal (in a bowl with a spoon, no milk) while watching Mickey Mouse on TV. I am sitting on the couch, nursing the baby and typing this post.

It's early out day, so I need to ride up to get the Kindergartner in about 80 minutes. Luckily, I've already showered today (a rare treat, showering before my husband) and the morning, although exhausting, has been good.

My husband truly practiced presiding in love an righteousness this morning, from leading scripture study and family prayer, to helping our son with homework. #3 is, by far, our biggest parenting challenge, and because of it, we love him something fierce. This time it was not due to his misophonia --it was simply homework. He needed to write out a sentence for each spelling word on his spelling list and he's had 4 days to do it. Four days to procrastinate; four days to ignore it. He didn't believe me that he would be overwhelmed if he didn't do a little bit each day, and this morning he found himself exactly that --overwhelmed. I did not handle it well, we were at an impasse. Brandon stepped in and turned it into a humorous experience (this is something he does well) and #3 finished his assignment with time to spare.

I think I take it for granted that I don't have to parent alone. Sometimes I forget how blessed and lucky I am to have Brandon.

In other news, I'm tired. But that's not really new.

I just did something stupid. The doorbell rang and my son ran to answer it. The couch is right by the door, so I kept nursing and just let him get it (thinking it was a neighbor). Since I couldn't see the person, and #5 just kept opening the door wider, the person walked into my house.

A stranger.

It was a woman, she didn't seem dangerous (in fact, she seemed...umm... slow? Is that the right term? I feel bad saying it, but she was not all there), but she was in my house and I didn't know her. And I was nursing. And my son was right there.

It ended up being a wrong address situation and I helped her find where she was going. It was fine. She was gracious. But I totally freaked out when she left. Gah! What was I thinking!? Letting my 3 year old answer the door without me right there?! And yet I do it all the time. Sigh. Re-thinking safety procedures...

On the agenda for the weekend: Two birthday parties. Three soccer games. Three piano lessons. One date night. Neighborhood Picnic (of epic proportions). Pies and pork and talents for neighborhood picnic. Temple dedications. Laundry. Mental breakdown.

Have a great weekend, dear reader! May it have a lot of chocolate and sleep in it. But don't tell me if it does, because I may not like you much anymore...


Anonymous said...

It is weird that a stranger stepped into your house with just your three-year-old at the door. Being that the stranger was not even a cop or something. Or maybe she was! (Undercover!) Just trying to inject some intrigue into the proceedings.

Parenting really is a tag-team sport.

bythelbs said...

You schedule your mental breakdowns? You're so organized!

Cheryl said...

I say about my #3 (and I find a lot of 3rd children are harder) that I love him the hardest :)