Homeless on a Sunday Afternoon

This story started about 3 days ago.  On a Thursday morning I was informed of the Book Fair taking place at the school and 3 of my 5 girls requested that I purchase them a new book from the book fair when we attended the basketball game that evening.  Most parents wouldn’t hesitate, they asked for new books, not video games or toys.  It wouldn’t have mattered what they asked for my answer still would have been the same. 

I asked, “Are your rooms clean?” fully knowing what their answers would be.  The rooms are never clean, and it drives me crazy.  But there are 5 of them and one of me, and I can no longer keep up with their rooms so I have to turn a blind eye.  I told them that if they wanted new books they would need to clean their rooms before we went.  I knew they wouldn’t have time to do that, but they tried.  I had to be the bearer of bad news.  A half-ass clean up wasn’t going to cut it today.  The answer was no.  Christmas was a month ago, and everybody was given new books then, and our area Stock Show is this week too.  Our 4-H club makes an annual trip down to take in the festivities and go swimming and spend the night.  So it’s not like they are deprived children.

So with pouty lips they took no for an answer and off to the basketball game we went.  Friday came and went nobody cleaned their rooms.  Saturday morning Grandma took them ice skating on the dam in the calving pasture, and they spent the afternoon playing cards at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  Not exactly the picture of deprived over worked children.

Sunday morning while I did some chores and caught up on the phone with my sister, they talked Grandma into skating again.  After lunch they wanted to head out to play or go to Grandma’s to play cards again.  I told them that they needed to spend some time cleaning up their rooms.  This was met with the usual excuses and whining.  CM told me it was clean, BR said she didn’t have to clean it any more than it already was and I couldn’t make her clean it. 

I literally laughed out loud! Ha Ha Ha! I thought she knew better than that! Apparently she didn’t. So we went from a quick half hour clean up to a Sunday afternoon lesson of who is the boss, and living here is privilege, not a right. 

I said, “That’s fine, you can choose. Clean your room like I want it cleaned or you can move out to the pickup camper in the trees (An old camper they use to play in in the summer). But I want to make it clear, there is no heat out there, no water, no electricity, no food, and it’s going to get cold tonight. You haven’t had a shower all weekend, so you already stink, and you will have to go to school tomorrow smelling like that.  You won’t have any supper, because you don’t have any food, or anyway to get food because you don’t have a job or a car.  So that means probably no breakfast either.  You will have to wake up earlier than usual to get to school because you don’t own a car, so you will need to leave earlier to get to the bus because you will have to walk.”

BR was still feeling pretty defiant.  CM wasn’t real sure she should follow suit.  But the two of them are partners in crime.  I could tell that CM’s 18 months more age and wisdom had her thinking this maybe was a bad idea, but BR was pretty full of herself so CM jumped on board.  They followed me into their room where I pointed out the things I wanted done to my specifications.  BR looks at CM and says “Ha, let’s just move out to the camper.”  I smiled and said, “That’s fine, pack your bags.”  They were pretty excited about setting out on their own.  They even recruited TB to help them pack their things to the camper.  TB being slightly older and wiser helped them and came back to the house and promptly started cleaning her room with a smile (Which if you know TB that doesn’t happen very often).

As I worked on bookwork in the office the Husband and I spied out the window as they proudly marched out to the camper to set up their new home. They were playing on a snowbank in front of the camper, so I ran out to with a camera, I told them I needed a picture of the homeless people living in my tree belt.  I got them to pose in front of their new home, still smug.

They came in a little later asking how much school lunches cost, they had pooled their money and were planning out how long they could live on their own buying school lunches.  They returned back out to their little home in the trees, still smiling. 

Sometime later they came to the house they were starting to rethink their plan, and offered to clean their room, and they would move back in.  A normal mother may have let the lesson end there.  Not this one. I want the lesson to stick.  I proceeded to tell them, “You made a choice, and now you are going to have to live with it.  It really isn’t so bad living here in Dad and I’s house.  You are provided meals, a warm place to live, your laundry is washed for you and you are pretty well taken care of.  Once and a while you are asked to help with some things, contribute to the family and have respect for the things you do have.  That is just part of being a family we all have to pitch in and do our part and have respect for each other.”

Back outside they went, faces not as smiley and smug as they were when they first started this little protest.  The husband came and pulled me to the window, he noticed they had put a small pot on the burn barrel that we burn garbage in.  KJ had lit it earlier in the day so it was still warm.  They told us they were melting snow to shower with.  They had packed shampoo and conditioner in their bags when they left, but no towels.  That was going to be a cold bath, then to crawl into a camper without heat. We watched as they moved around the outside of the house pressing their noses against the window glass like sad puppies watching us inside.

We let them peer in the window for a little while longer. As the sun began to set I invited them inside the entryway.  I asked if they wanted to move back in. Yes, of course they did.  The idea of sleeping in that dirty cold camper wasn’t so appealing after all. I asked if they had made a good choice. No, they hadn’t. I asked if they were going to listen and follow directions and be part of the family. Yes, they wanted to do better.  They returned all their belongings back to the house and were told to clean their room before supper was ready.  CM comes into the kitchen and says “I shouldn’t have listened to BR.” I think she may have learned a lesson in thinking for herself as well.  It’s good to make decisions for yourself, not just willingly follow someone because they think it’s a good idea.

The two dirty girls very humbly cleaned their room before supper, picked up and washed supper dishes, showered and vacuumed their room.  All while working together and not bickering or fighting.   Let’s hope the lessons sticks, but if not they are more than welcome to make themselves at home in the Camper in the Trees anytime. 

I pray your sister steals your socks!

I belong to a Facebook group, it is a group of women who have a similar interests in common, no men.  These women post about anything from breaking a horse, cleaning a house, how to raise children, husbands, fixing fence or what to make to eat at branding, you name it they talk about it. Yesterday I read a post that took my breath away. It was a woman who was asking for prayers. She was headed to court and was scheduled to testify along with her children against her husband who came into her home and tried to kill her with a hatchet. She ended up with 39 staples a titanium plate, and brain surgery. After attacking her, he went into the children's bedrooms woke them up and told them he had killed their mother like they wanted. She started the post with "I don't normally share my dirty laundry" as if she was posting about a quarrel with a coworker or a gripe with landlord. She was asking for prayers that justice to be served. I have been praying for her, and her children and can't get them out of my head! 
Before I read this post I was busy with my morning routine. I got up from my warm bed where I sleep with my husband (who I am sure would never come after me with a hatchet). I woke up my 5 children from their warm beds, made them breakfast, packed their lunches while settling squabbles between #2 and #4. I combed their hair and gave an ultimatum to #4 about brushing her hair or she was going to have it all cut off! I put them on the school bus with kisses and I love yous, and I wished them all a good day! After the bus pulled away my neighbor and I chatted for a minute about the frustrations of being a mom. I wished her a good day and we both drove home. 
I did my chores, made myself some breakfast, and a cup of coffee. I opened up Facebook as I always do while I ate my breakfast and drink my coffee. That's when I read the story! So many things started running through my head and I just couldn't get her out of my mind! 
For starters I was grumbling around about my dirty house, squabbling kids and about other piddly things. My attitude has changed, I want to thank God!  The worst part of mine or my children's day was a squabble over combing hair! Even though I can't walk in her shoes, and know what her or her children have been through.  I do know that the healing process from an abusive situation is not something that happens over night. I pray that God puts a healing hand on her but most of all those children.
I went to bed last night and prayed for her and her children and can't get them out of my thoughts. As I drove my girls to the bus this morning I attempted to settle another dispute over a pair of socks that somebody wasn't supposed to be wearing. I stopped in the middle of my usual lecture as this woman and her children crossed my mind again. I thought how blessed are my kids to never have to know the pain those children are going through. I stopped my lecture and said "You are very lucky little girls! I pray that the worst thing that happens to you today is your little sister stole your socks.  Your bad day pales in comparison to some people's problems." I pointed out all the things they have to be thankful for... A full belly, a healthy lunch to take to school, a warm house, their health, and a loving family!
I pray for the worst thing to happen to any of us be for your sister to steal your socks! But I'm a grown up and I know there will be worse. I've seen worse, as a kid I wished my worst day was a simple as socks! 
Thanksgiving is in one week, and we have so much to be thankful for! I plan on doing a better job this year during the coming Christmas season of expressing how thankful I am for my family and friends and the life God has blessed us with! 

Best Piece of Advice

One night, 26 years old, scared and pregnant with my third child a dear friend and neighbor gave me the best piece of advice I have ever been given.
My neighbor, and friend, who has children of her own about my age gave me a call one evening.  I can't tell you why she called, but I do remember that I was troubled with the normal day to day stresses of being a mother, daughter and wife. During our conversation I know I unloaded all my troubles on her.
I had a four year old, and an 18 month old baby who was not an easy baby and pregnant with my third. I can't remember the pretext to the advice, but I remember exactly where I stood and how  overwhelmed I was feeling when she said, "Give it over to God, trust in him!"
I know she gave me those words without thinking about what an effect they would have on me even to this day, or maybe she knew. I got off the phone went to bed that night, and thought about her words.
The next morning and often for many days to follow when I would feel a wave of anxiety over take me,  I would close my eyes tell myself to give it over to God, Trust in Him.  It helped, when I actually stopped and trusted in God and gave him my burdens I felt a huge relief.
My third child arrived along with  post partum depression. I continued to try to heed her advice, most days that was difficult. I cried,  I ate, got fat, cried more, I was a mess. I had two toddlers one that didn't sleep well and a newborn. When knee deep in the trenches it's hard to stop and take a breath and give it all over.
We muddled through, and when I came out the other side I looked back. When I finally let go and gave my worry and troubles over the sun began to shine.
Fast forward several years...
I just found out I'm pregnant with not my fourth child but my fifth. Number 4 was four years old, slated to start kindergarten the next fall. I was about to enter a new stage in my life, and felt as if the door that was opening had slammed right back in my face. Back to diapers, diaper bags, up all night, breast feeding, oh and four other kids who needed my attention. I didn't want any part of it!  I cried and cried, I pulled myself back socially, it was not a happy time expecting a baby. For crying out loud this wasn't my first rodeo. I knew what was coming down the road, I knew a new baby wasn't all roses in sunshine. Sometimes it's messy and ugly! At night I prayed and prayed and cried and cried for God to help me find a way to handle all of this and be a good mother.
My own sister feared for me, she was pretty sure I was headed for another round of post partum depression. I probably would have had I not been able to look at that beautiful wonderful child on the day of her birth and recognize all she held for this family. She had already even before she was born made me a stronger more confident mother.
On the way into the hospital to deliver my third daughter I remember sitting in the car, balling my eyes out, trying to get control of my emotions. My husband looked at me and asked what was wrong, I cried and said, "When I walk out of that building I will have another baby" I was scared to death to get another difficult baby along with the two toddlers I had. 6 years later...and I had survived that one plus one more.
In the car on the way to the hospital to deliver #5 I was way more at piece, I had learned to give my worries over to God and trust in Him. He has yet to fail me!
I had to pull out this piece of advice this morning as I have on many occasions, (I'm not pregnant again, lol) I took a deep breath, took all of things I am stressing about and put them in His hands.  He's got this!  I know, he'll help me handle it all.
I forget sometimes in the moment that I need to trust, I forget sometimes to be patient, sometimes I forget to listen. All I have to do is sit back and look at my many blessings, all 5 of them, my wonderful family and friends to be reminded that I am truly blessed, God is Great!

One Reason My Hair Is Turning Grey

Today while reading Facebook, a friend posted a story about getting a call from her child’s school.  One of her older kids had gotten sick at school, so while hurrying to get to the school one of the younger ones took it upon herself to use an ink pad for makeup.

This reminded me of a very similar story of my own.

About 5 years ago on one snowy Christmas vacation, my kids spent the entire vacation sledding!  We have a very good sledding hill located right behind grandma and grandpa’s house in the Milk Cow Pasture.  It catches all the snow on the back side when we get a Northwest wind, and if you are from around here you know that we get those quite often.  If you point your sled head straight east or southeast, you’re usually pretty safe.  The hill has a nice slope and you usually come to a stop before you get to the bottom.  If you go off the hill to the North, it’s usually a bumpy ride.  Snow doesn’t stick much and the sage brush is hard on your rear end.  The South Side is no good!!! It’s steep and would be good fast sledding if there wasn’t a row of continuous fence right at the bottom.  Those who don’t know what continuous fencing is it is  ¾ inch solid steel fencing used for corals and arenas.  It’s very unforgiving.  Just ask TB!

TB was 5, a kindergartener; she loved to sled with her sisters!  After lunch one afternoon we all headed out to do a little sledding.  I made a couple trips down the hill with the kids, while at the bottom I turned to look up to the top.  There I saw TB, setting up her sled to go down the south side of the hill.  She lined it out jumped on head first on her tummy and there was nothing I could do, but watch!  She was gaining speed as the words “NOOOO” where coming out of my mouth.  I watched as the sled and the little blonde baby it was carrying crashed in to the steel continuous fencing.  I ran through the snow as she lay unmoving on the sled. As I got to her and rolled her over, her eyes rolled into the back of her head!  I yelled for help, KJ ran to get Grandma, we took her into the house as quickly as we could.  She didn’t know where she was at or who we were, so we started to make calls to our local clinic, the closest medical facility.  We were advised to take her to the nearest hospital. 

The nearest hospital is 60 miles away, and it was already turning dark.  Me, a slight bit panicky, distracted and stressed out I started to get the other kids ready to go to Grandma’s house, knowing we wouldn’t be returning that night or it would be late if we did. 

That was all 2 year old BR needed!  A family member had just given all of the girls paint by number posters for Christmas.  So while I was distracted with the 5 year old with a concussion the 2 year old broke into the paint by number and painted every piece of accessible skin on her extremities.  She even pulled up her sleeves and pant legs to broaden her canvas.  She was covered in mostly green that I remember, but all I could see was RED!!!  Her father narrowly saved her life, scooping her up and running her to the bath and cleaning her up! Possibly that was a typical 2 year old behavior, but now looking back, that was just the one of many chapters in the book I will one day write titled…”Why My Hair Turned Gray!”

TB made it to the Hospital, thanks to dad’s quick thinking we didn’t have to take her baby sister too.  The cop who pulled us over for speeding didn’t think much of his quick driving, but when he saw me with a 5 year old in my lap both of us covered in puke, he was kind enough to not give him a ticket and let us be on our way.  After a CAT scan and a night in the hospital, TB was put on sledding probation.   In her opinion this ruined the rest of her Christmas Vacation.   After returning from the hospital, Great Grandpa, and her Great Aunt shared stories about wrecks they had sledding off the South side of that hill too.  Well I can tell you everybody in this generation has learned their lesson! 1. NO SLEDDING ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE HILL IN MILK COW PASTURE!  2. BODY PAINT BY NUMBER OR ANY OTHER PAINT BY NUMBER PROJECTS ARE PROHIBITED, ESPECIALLY DURING A CRISIS.

In loving memory of "Old Fart" from your one and only Stringbean

Last Thursday I made a trip to Hettinger ND, on my way home I drove through Praire City. It's not really a city, it's more of a don't blink or you'll miss it bump in the road.  As I neared the edge of town the gates of the cemetery came into sight.  As I watched the cold prairie wind whip snow across the road in front of me, tears began to well up as I looked to the south and saw the two grave markers and the raised ground and site of the fresh grave. Tears poured from my eyes. I was a few miles down the road again before my vision cleared.

As my suburban rolled down the highway I remember the first Christmas after KJ was born.  We all went to my parents for Christmas, the weather was really yucky and cold.  My great Grandma and grandpa were planning on coming, but we weren't really sure they would make it with the weather. There was no knock on the door just the sound of the door blowing open and an 80 year old woman racing everybody in the car to the house so she could be the first one to hold the new baby. I know I wouldn't have gotten in her way, and she literally beat everybody to the house.  (Everybody else may have been senior citizens too, but Grandpa was known to be pretty spry!) The thought of her running in the house to be the first to see her new great great grand baby made me smile through my tears.

Grandma always said it how she saw it, she was never known to sugar coat anything.  She loved her family and could hear a pin drop, where grandpa couldn't hear anything.  He was the legs and she was the ears.  Together they were one heck of a team.  I remembered stopping in to have coffee with them on my way through town while I was going to college.  I loved sitting at their kitchen table having coffee and some sugar wafer cookies. Grandpa always had sugar wafer cookies and a full candy dish on the coffee table.  As a kid those dishes were so hard to stay out of, we would quietly sneak in and lift the lid and slide a gummy orange slice out of the dish only to be given up by the clinking of the glass lid going back on the dish. It was no different for my own children.  Generations of children were tempted by grandpa's candy dishes.

Everybody in our family loves black olives.  When we were kids we use to go through CANS of them at holidays.  Grandma and grandpa knew how much we loved them too, so they always came prepared with extra cans of olives.  One Easter, there was one can left when everybody was ready to a go home.  Mom tried to send them home with Grandpa.  He wouldn't have it. So I told him I would put them in the car then he would have to take them home. We headed out the door, me a teenager, him a man in his 70's on a neck in neck foot race to the car.  Some how he beat me down the stairs and to the car! I had to keep the olives, and I won't forget when he hugged me and said "Keep the olives Stringbean!"

The whole family came to our house for my senior graduation, as everybody was getting ready to leave we noticed Grandpa had disappeared.  Later Grandpa and Grandma were getting ready to say goodbye. Grandpa told me I was going to have to come outside. He wasn't a real tall man, and I am at least 5'8" tall.  While everybody else had been busy celebrating and visiting inside, grandpa had snuck out to the wood pile to find a block of wood he lugged it all the way to the house and put it on the deck.  He took me outside and stepped up onto the block of wood and then turns to me and says "Ok Stringbean, now you can give me a hug!" I hugged him and told him "I love you, you Old Fart!"

Grandma passed away the fall before CM was born.  CM never got to meet Grandma, but will always carry apart of her with her, CM was very affectionately named after a woman I loved and admired greatly.  Saying goodbye to grandma was so difficult.  She held my hand and told me she would be watching me!  She was laid to rest in the Prairie City cemetery 9 years ago, and I still feel her presence, hear her laugh and love her so much. I know she wasn't kidding when she said she was going to keep an eye on me.

My aunt and uncle would bring Grandpa up on Memorial Day to visit Grandma in prairie city.  One spring they came and had planned on planting flowers at her grave.  My aunt had purchased a new shovel on her way up just for the occasion.  The spring had been particularly dry.  Upon arriving at the cemetery I promptly gabbed the shovel, being the youngest able bodied adult I offered to dig the hole for the flowers. I took my foot and shoved the shovel in to the ground and leaned back to take a big scoop, that dry old prairie sod didn't give an inch but the shovel did! The handle of that brand new shovel busted right off, about landing me right on my can! Grandpa laughed and laughed, "Old Stringbean doesn't even know her own strength!". I teased, calling him Old Fart!

Grandpa celebrated his 96th birthday this fall. My sister and I had stopped to visit him a couple of weeks before, his eyes were getting bad and he couldn't see people well enough to tell who they were. We visited right along for quite a while. I asked him about his birthday in a couple of weeks, and he finally said "Who are you and how do you know it's my birthday?" We told him who we were, he couldn't see us well enough to recognize us! Everything made since after he knew who we were! When we left I didn't know that was the last time I'd hear him call me Stringbean, and hug me good bye.  I didn't make it to his birthday party, we were trailing cows that day and I couldn't make it.  He had 96 birthdays, why wouldn't he have another, at some point I just thought he would always be there, because he always was!

On Friday October 24th I got the call I knew someday would come, but secretly hoped it never would. Honestly I thought the "Old Fart" might live forever. He had taken a fall, and wasn't going to make it through this one.  I made it to the hospital 2 hrs away by 9:00 that night. I stood by his bed as he laid there with his eyes closed peacefully, I told him I loved him very much! The rest of the family stood near his bed and we all began telling and listening to stories about him. He heard Grandma call his name, and finally left to be with her. I will never hear anybody call me Stringbean again, he was the ONLY one to call me that.  And had I known that afternoon visiting him would be the last time I would hug him, and hear those words I may have held on a little longer.
Now grandpa is laid to rest next to grandma in the cemetery at Prairie City, his grave site still fresh, no grass and no flowers.  Perhaps when spring comes I will have to stick a shovel next to his headstone engraved with the words  "In loving memory of "Old Fart" from your one and only Stringbean". I think he'd love that!

13 year old...Women.

On Thursday morning last week I walked into the local store/post office in the middle of a conversation about how fast kids grow up.  I interjected that I would be the mother of a 13yr old and a two year old this year.

Like a movie playing in my head I can picture riding home in the back seat of the pickup with her on the way home from the hospital.  I remember holding her as she slept swaddled in a blanket thinking she was perfect, and I couldn’t have imagined at that time that I would have felt any more pride in her than I did at that very moment.

I had no idea what I was in for.  Four more babies later and every one of them continues to amaze me!

Now that infant that was born on a cold December morning is just months away from turning 13.  Saturday evening the husband returned from unloading a load of hay up west where we winter our bulls.  He noticed the top wire on the gate was busted.  He asked KJ to run horses in in the morning and wanted us to go ride and look and see if any of our bulls were in the neighbors cows.

After lunch my baby jumped on a 4 wheeler and ran the horses in the corral.  My sister was here visiting and wanted to ride along with us.  It had been probably 18 years since she had been on a horse so we mounted her on the girls’ old black gelding.  KJ saddled up her best friend, her palomino mare Soda.  (I will have to write a post someday about the relationship between a girl and her horse!) I saddled my little cow horse Carmel, the girls call her mom’s little blonde bomber. 

We took off out of the yard at a walk, I was hoping for a leisurely ride through the cows, hoping we didn’t find a renegade bull to put back.  Right of the bat, we found one of our 2 yr old bulls snuggled up next to one of the neighbors cows.  He jumped up put his head up, and let us know he was going to give us a run for our money.  I turned to my sister and said, “Don’t feel like you need to keep up with us.  Just follow along, I don’t want you hurt.”

And just like that the race was on!  Head up and tail in the wind he head out to the west on a run, I looked to my left to see a little palomino mare and my baby in hot pursuit; she pushed him out of the cows. As we sorted him off the cows he picked up the pace.  He tried to duck to the right and my little mare was onto him and was right there ready to head him off, we got him turned and headed due west, I looked ahead if somebody didn’t get ahead of him we were going to miss the cross fence running north and south and the gate we needed to put him back through. Out of the corner of my eye I see her loping up behind him, she sees what I see, she leans forward and gives the palomino some more reign and they kick into a whole other gear.  I quickly head for the gate; I can see she’s going to get him turned before the corner. I beat the bull to the gate, as I try to open it up I look up to see this bull hasn’t slowed down at all my daughter is now riding beside him just trying to hold him to the fence and slow him up enough that I can get the gate open.  My little Mare has her nose on my shoulder, I’m fairly sure he can’t see a whole lot of day light between us, and no time to get out of his way or get the gate open, I start yelling hoping he will stop or turn back down the fence.  My yelling did nothing to slow his progress he was still headed at me.  My only thought at that moment was this is REALLY going to hurt. He ducked around us and continued down the fence line at a dead run.  I threw open the gate and mounted my horse to see my 12 yr old put a stop on that bull and all I heard was the stretch of the top wire as she didn’t give him anywhere to go but over, guess that was easier than slowing down enough to turn around and use the gate.  We met up and she said “Sorry Mom, he broke the fence!”  I said, “That’s alright, he’s back were he’s supposed to be.”  In that moment, I see a young woman, not my little baby.  After the dust had settled, my sister trots up on the old black gelding.  She saw it too; my baby isn’t a baby no more!

So yes this winter, I will be the mother of a 13 yr old woman!  Wow, how did that happen?

Mommy ADD: Why are my pants wet?

I’ve been a little busy, or possibly a little preoccupied to sit down and do any writing.  June is a busy month; between getting cattle all sorted and out to grass, planting garden and running kids to all their many summer events and activities I recently experienced a little Mommy ADD

flair I guess you could call it.  I do the best I can!  That’s all I’m going to say about that.

If anybody has checked out the Momma Log Facebook page www.Facebook.com/MommaLog  you will have noticed I don’t mind ratting out my children when they do something.  So I figured to be fair I really should share my little oops!

Every year for at least 6 or 7 years we make the trek north to a small town in North Dakota to take swimming lessons.  They do such a good job, and it’s only an hour drive.  For anybody who has lived in rural South Dakota, you have to drive at least an hour to get anywhere.  I have to drive at least half an hour to get to some people’s places that we consider “neighbors”. 

Anyway… so we drive an hour to get to swimming lessons, spend an hour at swimming lessons, run any errands we may have (Haying season, means you more than likely will have to do parts runs while you are in the vicinity of the Case dealership.) and then drive an hour home. Repeat 5 times, with 6 kids in the car. Yes, I said 6.  As if having 5 of my own wasn’t good enough, I borrowed my 5 year old niece from my sister and drug her along with us for a week.

This year swimming lessons just happened to be from 11:30 to 12:30.  So we leave at snack time, and finish during lunch time.  Did I mention that to feed a group of six kids in town at a restaurant for 5 days will break you?  Especially in a town were a gallon of milk costs almost $6.00.  So to save some money we (me and the other moms who were also carting kids up there) decided we would just pack lunches for the kids.  Which I can only surmise saved us an arm and a leg.  Especially since packing my own lunches almost killed me.  They were absolutely ravenous when they finished lessons each day!  One day for snacks they ate half a dozen apples, and a container of goldfish crackers on the way to swimming lessons.  I went through 3 loaves of bread and several pounds of lunch meat, over 20 sticks of string cheese over a dozen individual applesauce cups, two and half bags of chips 3 bags of grapes, a Tupperware container of celery and cream cheese, two bags of apples a bunch of bananas and a large carton of Goldfish Crackers.  This was just for snacks and lunch, to and from swimming lessons. 

Every morning went, chores, breakfast, breakfast dishes, throw in a load of laundry, shower and dress myself, ride herd on the dressing of 5 children over the age of 5, dress the almost 2 year old, make lunches for 6 kids, brush and braid and fix 6 heads of hair, make sure swimming stuff was packed, ask somebody to double check to make sure everybody had a pair of underwear in the bag for after swimming, and if there was time before we left sweep the kitchen floor.

I was doing pretty well, I was managing alright.  We had a few spats between kids, that needed ironing out, but that is normal whether we are headed for swimming lessons or not.  We had successfully made it through the week, last day of lessons, nobody had forgotten clothes, or towels, and I hadn’t accidentally left any children anywhere.  We had successfully run errands to the implement dealership, the airport, and the vet’s office not to mention the grocery store and gas stations.   

The last day was here.  I had some girls who were dragging a little bit as the crawled out of bed and mustered up enough energy to go out and feed their animals.  They were starting to perk up as they finally sat down to eat their own breakfasts.  They had no trouble mustering up enough energy to pick and start some fights with each other.  We had some drama over wardrobe malfunctions, but that is all to be expected after a grueling week of traveling and swimming.

I got kids, bags, lunches and all other accessories that were required loaded in the car and we were off, we were on time, no need to speed, all was good.  We were looking like we would end the week with out too much fuss.  Got to the pool, got everybody changed and ready to go, so the baby and I made our way pool side.  We grabbed a seat next to one of the other moms and started to chat.  Suddenly I realized my lap was wet.  Not a big deal, the floor is wet.  The baby must have sat in some water.  As I started to examine a little closer, the mark on her pants seemed to more resemble that of a toddler who just had an accident.  Still thinking that she had to have sat in something, because that is a strange way for a diaper to leak, down both legs and so much, especially since I had changed her before we left.  So I took down her pants to inspect the diaper malfunction, to only find that when I had changed her I had forgotten to put a diaper back on her.  Yes, I forgot to diaper the baby.  I had a diaper in my purse, but not on the baby. 

So now we know that I can only keep track of 6 kids successfully for no more than 4 ½ days.  After that I start to slip.