Moving right along into the new week here. Not ignoring my last post about emotions, but struggling to get by with an elbow that won’t let me easily type.
Today was quiet. Full of work for mom, play for the kids, and a mildly threatening sky. We did manage to put some “official” schooling in amongst all the play-based learning, so I thought it was time to write one of these quiet sharing posts. Nothing ambitious, nothing crazy, just us at home.
I started my morning off swearing. The Destroyer wouldn’t stop whining, and I refused to “snuggle, mommy!” at 6:00 a.m. I refused, because the little snot was up a lot last night. Then the screaming started – how dare I want to sleep when my child demanded my presence?
7:00 a.m. Blessed silence aided by tablets. I got a little sleep. (7 is the earliest they get them, a time set in reaction to the Engineer getting up earlier and earlier in hopes of more tablet time.)
The Engineer starts his day with his handwriting practice before he gets his tablet. Today, it was copy work writing out numbers and their names. His dad checked his work, and told him things to fix. Never happened because I was too dead to the world to stop the kiddo from grabbing his tablet from my bedside table. Tomorrow, he will redo the same practice despite his moaning about it.
Later, bleary eyed and hurting, I dragged myself out of bed. Time to start our day. Time to start our week – a week full of appointments, commitments, and classes.
9:30 a.m. Everyone is finally fed, mostly dressed, and playing happily. Mostly. Because the fighting has already started. “She took my toy!” “IIIIEEEEEEEEEE!” (translation for the Destroyer: “she took my toy!”) “Mom, Princess won’t leave me alone!” as the Engineer struggled to put together his special Perler bead egg pattern that he got in his Easter basket.
10:00 a.m. “Hey kids! We’re going to do some school after I get these dishes cleaned up!” A full sink of dishes because I refused to do my customary double load on Easter. 5 fights later and 2 snuggles over war injuries, I got the dishwasher started.
10:30 a.m. “Mom, can I have the tape measure? I want to measure how far I jumped.” The Princess “helps” him measure, getting a little math in on the sly. “147 inches mom!” Good job son – what’s that in centimeters? Oh whoops! This tape measure doesn’t have centimeters on it … adding that to the list.
10:45 a.m. I’m ignoring the baskets of laundry that have grown piles up to the counter over the weekend. My elbow hurts too much to deal with that mess at the moment. Want clean clothes? Dig them out of the baskets!
Finally, school officially starts. Let’s learn about earthworms!
The Engineer asked to learn about them after I was unable to tell him what the “sleeve” looking thing was on the worms we spotted on a walk. Now that I looked it up, I’m going to have a hard time not giggling when I tell him it’s a clitellum. Yup, you say that without giggling. I dare you!
11:00a.m. We identified major worm parts, and the Engineer carefully colored in the brain, heart, and blood vessels. The Princess was more interested in the worm’s butt, and snickered over worms pooping dirt. The Destroyer scribbled.
11:15 a.m. Let’s go find a worm! Everyone suit up – shoes and jackets, it’s chilly out. We headed out to the patio, to the prime worm spot under the crepe myrtles. It’s a lovely area in the spring, but right now it’s a mess of leaf litter and seed pods. No wonder I have baby crepe myrtles sprouting here!
We found a few small worms, baby worms, a centipede, and a whole lot of dirt. Fun times. The Engineer refused to hold a worm for more than a few seconds, while the Destroyer frantically shook his off into the dirt. The Princess was enthralled and wanted to dig more. Nope, time to go in. I’m cold!
11:30 a.m. Hands clean now, the Engineer asks if he can do skip counting for math today. “I need to practice my 2s.” Yeah, right. Nice try kiddo. It’s an attempt to avoid doing his level of math, but I set up a skip counting by 2s problem anyway.
Then he did skip counting by 25s. And an algebra equation. “Son, pay attention. I don’t care if you get it wrong, but you have to at least pay attention.” He makes stupid mistakes like miscounting to 9 when it’s 8, but finally regroups his addition problem correctly without being prompted.
11:45 a.m. “Do me next! Do me mommy!” So the Princess does math next. She’s more interested in drawing on the number shapes than doing the math. She did correctly identify the addition and subtraction signs, so we’re getting somewhere. We ditch the fourth problem so that she can draw a frowny face cloud with pouring rain. An accurate description of the sky.
12:30 p.m. Lunch for the little tyrants who keep saying “I hungry!” every time they walk past the kitchen. Fighting ensues over the color of the plates. Apparently blue is the best color ever, and we only have 2 blue plates. 3 Kids. Do the math. The Destroyer throws his plate to the floor and stomps away.
1:00 p.m. I’m in the bathroom. I hear ominous laughing, running, furtive kid noises. This is not good. I finally wrench the door open and rejoin the living, but no one will meet my eye. I walk into the dining room and I understand why. The entire box of band aids for Wednesday’s blood typing lab is strewn all over the floor. There are band aids on my chair legs. The toy trike. My kitchen sink faucet. Everywhere but in the box.
Everyone is in trouble.
1:30 p.m. I’m talking to the Princess and consoling her over an injury. I hear pounding – and I yell “boys, stop!” across the house. They don’t stop. So I dump the Princess and rush over to find the Destroyer hitting my bathroom door with a paint stick because the Engineer won’t let him in. There are whack marks on my door that expose the wood underneath.
That’s it. Quiet time NOW!
2:00 p.m. The kids are all in quiet time. I let Mr. Genius know I had to go out and buy more band aids. Yay me. There went my free time to get the lab packets finished up.
Quiet time is finished when I get back. The fighting picks back up right where they left it. I’m packaging inserts, counting band aids, and rationing out lancets. Dinner? Yeah, right. PB&J when I get enough counter space to do something.
Right now, my counter space has an unfinished animal cell model on it, various toys and art projects that apparently have no other home, 2 of my art projects, 3 of the curriculum projects, bags of paint bottles for the kid’s art class on Friday, and a stack of repurposed wooden trays that I’m in the middle of painting. I have no counter space.
Our day ends in the quiet routine of bedtimes and rituals. Tomorrow will be time to start again.