A day in a life

Because you don't have anything better to do at this very moment, besides read my blog, I thought I would give you an idea of our days here in the Pletcher Family.  It is thrilling - I can tell you.

 Our work days start at 6:10am.  Mat and I are up first before the kids, and get ready.  Once we are ready we get Cainan up.  This is around 6:30.

Cainan is usually already awake and waiting for us.  He is a light sleeper, so I am sure he either hears our alarm or the shower running.  So he hops right out of bed.  He is our morning person.  He is full of energy right from the beginning - running around and hopping into the bathroom to get ready.  I watch him with bleary eyes and wish I could be half as awake.

 Then comes the painful part.  Getting up the girls.  They are not morning people.  They are still sleeping, and refuse to move for at least 5 full minutes of me saying "girls get up.  It's a school day" and walking around them getting out their clothes, and picking up loose toys.  I go back and make Cainan's bed and make sure he is getting dressed (while he continues to bounce around like Tigger) and yet the girls still lay in their beds.  Little lumps.  Hoping I don't see them if they don't move.

Sometimes it takes Mat coming in and turning on the light or pulling back the covers.  Cruel.  Yet...necessary at least 1 day a week.  Arlington usually is the last up, and walks slowly to the bathroom as if she is being forced to do the most awful task in the world.

 Finley requires me to come and get her.  This is her morning routine.  I walk over, she stands up on her bed, puts one of her "rags" (her favorite blankies) on my shoulder, and I carry her downstairs.  She tucks herself into the smallest ball she can.  I take her to our third bathroom - the only one unoccupied at this point and leave her there while I troop back upstairs to make the girl's beds.

I also usually have to knock on Arlington's bathroom door to get her to move it along.  She has taken to locking herself in there with a book or magazine and hopes I forget about her. I think she goes back to sleep.

 Cainan is now downstairs.  It is 6:45 - and he is still bouncing.  Bouncing and bouncing around.  And giggling.  He has found his shoes and is busy putting them on.  Finley is slowly getting her pajamas off, squirming around.  She whines that she can't get her shirt off.  Every.Single.Day.  Yet miraculously, it comes off.  Miracle.

While Finley gets dressed, ("OMG hurry up" comes out of my mouth 8 billion times), I brush Cainan's teeth.  Mat is usually down by now and getting Arlington's breakfast ready.  She is the only one that has to eat.  Bless the preschool that serves breakfast.  Amen.

 Cainan and I brush.  He bounces.  I fix his little bit of hair, put on his chapstick, tell him for the millionth time to stop licking his lips, and put lotion on his hands.  He is ready to go.  6:50am.  He asks for his vitamins and his eye medicine (Claritin) and bounces around until Mat is ready to go.

Finley?  Well, Finley may or may not have dressed herself at this point.  Usually she is fussing over her socks.  Or the fact that she has to wear pants.  So on and so on.  I brush her teeth.  I brush her rats nest she calls hair.  We search for her glasses and clean off all of her fingerprints.  We search for her sunglasses.  She begs for a drink.  A snack.  A hug.  She goes to put her shoes on and is not seen for a full 5 minutes until I look in our mud room and she is just playing around.  Then she says she can't find any shoes (even though there are 10 pair there for her to pick from).

 At this point, I am ready for Finley and Cainan to be on their way to school.  Arlington has emerged from the bathroom, and sits holding her head up at the breakfast bar.  She quietly eats her breakfast, and usually gets half of it on the table.  For some reason after 7 years she still doesn't know where her mouth is.

While she eats, I help Finley find her shoes, and Mat helps get their coat and belongings and shuttles them out the door.  It is 7am at this point, and it is now just Arlington and I.

I sigh.  Arlington eats and I pack our lunches.  (Again - blessed preschool provides lunch and snacks, so I am off the hook).  Arlington realizes what time it is -  about 7:05 - and scarfs down the rest of her breakfast.  In the morning I allow her to watch "Arthur" the kid's show once she is ready for school.

I continue to pack lunches, and clean up breakfast dishes, and put things away around the house.  Arlington is dressing - slowly - and promises to brush her teeth during the first commercial break.  She is dressed and on the couch relaxing while I finish getting ready.

At 7:15 - she brushes her teeth and I do her hair.  At 7:20 I go down and start the car (if it is winter) or just load it (if it is warm).  Bookbag - check.  My bag - check.  Lunches - check.  Any odds and ends.  Check.  I check the days schedule.  Is it library day for Arlington?  Field trip?  Homework is complete and put in her bag?  Check check check.  I quickly think what it will be like when I do this next year with three of them, shudder, and put the thought from my mind.

 At 7:25 the show is over, TV and all lights are turned off, jackets on, shoes on and we are in the car by 7:30.  This is the same every day.  I am like a clock.  I must leave at the exact time every day to make it to work on time.  I know - crazy.

I drive Arlington to the wonderful people who watch her in the morning for 15 minutes.  Free of charge.  I am grateful for amazing friends.  Their little girl and Arlington are friends and in 2nd grade together.  I drop Arlington off at 7:40 and talk with my friend for a few minutes.  I am on the road by 7:45am.

It takes me from 7:45-8:15 to get to work.  This is my relaxing time.  I unwind - listen to the radio, or music, or any other entertainment I would like without anyone talking.  Or yelling.  Or fighting.  30 minutes of bliss, each way, every day.

Unless I get behind a bus.  Then bliss goes bye-bye, and my hypersensitive "need to get to work on time so please get out of the way bus" feelings take over.

From 8:15-3:15, I am a school nurse.  I wipe noses, give bandaids.  And hugs.  I give about a trillion ice packs for boo-boos, and wipe tears.  I see about 100 belly aches, headaches, "can't remember" aches, and just "I need a break" aches.  I give out at least 10 water bottles, 50 mints (magic mints the kids call them - good for bellies), cough drops, medication, breathing treatments.  I file tons of papers.  I got to meetings.  I talk with most of the teachers about their kids.  I eat lunch with my work BFFs.  I talk to worried parents.  I call parents who didn't call their kids in sick to see where they are.  The day goes by quickly.  Before I know it, it is time to head home.

3:15-3:45 I unwind from work.  At 3:45 I meet Arlington at her bus at our other life saving friend, Athena's house.  Her little boy and Arlington get off the bus - wound up and ready to play.  They dump their backpacks and take off, with me yelling "5 minutes!" behind them.  Athena and I chat and catch up.  I love that I pick up Arlington there because I love getting to see her and chat with her every day.  She is one of the best people I know.

5 minutes (okay usually 10 by the time Athena and I stop chatting) later, Arlington and I are on our way home.  We are usually home a little after 4pm at the latest, and she sits down to do her homework right away.  I get her backpack unpacked and set her up at the table.  No one is home except she and I, so this is a great time for her to do her homework.  Some days after school she has after school activities, so this only works on days she doesn't and comes straight home from school.

Homework goes pretty smoothly.  It doesn't take long and she is pretty independent.  Her spelling needs help.  But more than that - she is good.  Thank goodness because 2nd grade homework is tough.  She works on multiplication and word problems, and things I don't remember doing quite that early on.

 I work on getting dinner ready and doing some more picking up around the house.  By 5pm Mat is home with the little ones, and the house is crazy once again.  We have dinner and the kids play until bath time at 7pm.

5-7pm can go two ways.  Smooth.  Or.....not.  When it is smooth - the parents get to relax and play with the kids and all is well.  No fighting, and lots of giggles.  The other times, well.....let's just say 7pm cannot come fast enough.  We have a big house, and yet - it is still not big enough to separate them on these days when no one wants to play cooperatively.  Luckily - those days are few and far between.

At 7pm, my big girl Arlington takes her shower.  She has been doing this for a few weeks now, and is really great at it.  And I cannot tell you how nice it is to not have to bath 3 any more.  I didn't want her to make that step -it meant she wasn't a little girl anymore.  But it truly has been great, and she loves having that responsibility.

The little ones chase each other around while I call for them.  And call for them.  I run the bath water and get the towels. I look, and see that Finley hasn't taking one lick of clothing off, so she is not ready.  It is 7:10 - she is trying my patience.

But Cainan is ready.  He is still bouncing around.  Not at bouncy as he was this morning, but still a happy boy.  I bathe him first and have him go and get dressed while I wait.for.Finley.

 Finley finally makes it into the bathroom for her bath.  She smiles, starts for the tub and states "I have to go to the bathroom".  OMGareyoukiddingme.

7:20 - baths are done, and Mat is reading a book to Cainan.  Arlington has used a half a bottle of shampoo and body wash, but she is clean and ready for bed.  I finish picking up the bathroom while Finley attempts to dress herself.  And when I say attempt - I mean....not doing anything but playing butt naked in her bedroom.  Completely oblivious that it is bedtime.

Mat reads to Arlington (they are making their way through the books of Chronicles of Narnia).  I wrestle Finley into her pajamas and we read a book.  She then requests no less than 5 books in her bed that she can read to her doll Lilly loo loo.  (don't ask).  She has her rag, and she is settled in.

High maintenance that girl is.

 Doors are closed by 7:30 on the two littles and by 7:45 for Arlington.  No one comes out unless they are bleeding or they have thrown up.  By 7:45 Mat and I are downstairs relaxing on the couch.  Or folding laundry.  Or working.  You know - because there just aren't enough hours in the day. 

By 10pm we are beat and in bed.  Knowing that in 8 hours it is going to start all over again.  But we love it and wouldn't trade it.  The giggles, the chasing, the hugs and kisses.  That all makes up for the spilled cereal and slow pace our children take with life.

See you Saturday.