I Think it Was a Thursday

Not every day at home is super eventful.  Some days pass with only minor incidents throughout the day.  But more often than not, my life with four boys five and under tends to look something like this:

At roughly 11 o'clock p.m. (yes, not technically Thursday yet but go with me) the 3 1/2 year old wakes up to go to the bathroom (this is awesome as the other night he did not wake up in time).  Dad helps him and gets him back in bed.

At roughly 2 o'clock the 6 week old wakes up to nurse.  I blindly grab for my phone which allows me to time the feeding (we're still establishing our routine) and also provides me with light.  I can't find it plugged in next to the bed which is weird because I know I was looking at Pinterest right before lights out.  (I do not recommend this.  You should cease the use of all electronic devices one hour before you plan to go to bed so that your brain can do whatever it needs to do with light and shutting down and sleep.  However, since I have a new baby, I am capable of almost always falling asleep at any time...even when it's not actually appropriate.)

By roughly 2:30 a.m. I am back in bed only to hear Moana singing VERY loudly that she is standing at the water.  At this point I check to see if Dad is awake and send him in to take back my phone from the 3 1/2 year old who has been using it for the past 3 1/2 HOURS...in the middle of the night...when he is supposed to be sleeping.

At sometime before 7 o'clock the 2-year-old starts crying and I go get him before he can wake anyone else up.  We snuggle for roughly 37 seconds before he decides the only real way to snuggle is to be laying on top of me.  We are soon joined by the 5-year-old who has plenty of room in the four inches between me and the edge of the bed.

Now the baby is awake again and ready to nurse so the brothers bounce off to tell him good morning.  Mind you the 3-year-old is still asleep. While nursing the baby, the 5-year-old tells me that he doesn't have bad dreams anymore because his whistling ear has stopped giving him bad dreams and now his heart gives him good dreams.  (Note: He had some ringing in his ear and he blamed all his bad dreams on it.)  He then spends the next 20 minutes telling me every dream he's ever had.

I go to change the baby and find he has pooped up his back.  While folding him in half to clean up his back he starts spitting up.  I am wiping up the spit up from his neck and cheek when all of a sudden his face is covered with...yep, he peed on his face and hair.  I decide that instead of a bath tonight, he'll get one right now.  I go to get the bath water ready in his tub and come back to get him.  While getting the baby, the 2-year-old is dumping out bath water.  I get back before it can all be dumped.

Dad has made breakfast so everyone sits down to eat while I go take a shower.  The sound of running water cues every potty trained child to run to the bathroom to go potty.  Dad intercepts them at the first knocks and sends them to the other bathroom where the 2-year-old still is when I get out of the shower.  He didn't actually go to the bathroom, but he went in to wash his hands and is now rubbing the toothpaste all over his mouth.

I get everyone their second rounds of breakfast and make mine.  Blessedly I made coffee before getting in the shower and it is now waiting for me.  The 2-year-old's stuffed Scout dog says he hungry and asks for a snack.  Being a helper, he brings him into the kitchen and shoves him at the stove...where I am cooking my breakfast!  A fire is averted and I give the 2-year-old a piece of cheese for Scout's snack.  Scout ends up in the high chair.  When I ask the 2-year-old if he's feeding his dog the cheese, he tracks down the real dog and feeds her cheese.

Everyone finishes eating and goes on their way, until I sit down at the table.  The 2-year-old somehow ends up in my lap saying "Eat. Eat."  He is kind enough to only tear off a couple bites before heading on his way.

Dad remembers he needs to check 3-year-old's nose for a feather.  He can't find it.  I wonder when I should be concerned or if a feather will just go away.  I mean, our bodies have protections built in for this kind of thing, right?!

It is grocery shopping day.  Like, BIG grocery shopping day.  Like, I have only picked up essentials since the baby was born 6 weeks ago day.  I have it planned out perfectly.  Once the baby does his 10 o'clock feeding we will be on our way.  The time leading up to this is filled with a lot of "Go get dressed." "I have to change your diaper." "Where are your pants?" "If you're not dressed you can't go." "You have to have socks on before you put on your boots." "Where are your pants?" "Put your pants on." "You're not going without pants."

The baby is fed, diaper changed and four car seats are clicked.  (Yes, four car seats.  One child can buckle himself.  One can almost buckle himself.  One can barely climb into his seat by himself but insists on doing so.  One gets strapped in in the house and carried out ready to go.  The law requiring car seats is probably what led to smaller family sizes.  I mean, I'm super glad for their safety and not having kids crawling all over me while I'm trying to drive, but when you could just load everyone into the backseat and go people were probably more likely to have more kids.  It's a theory anyway.

We get to the grocery store and I load the kids into the cart.  They get their free snack of fruit (thank you Fred Meyer) and I check the oldest three into the play place (REALLY thank you Fred Meyer).  The sleeping baby and I are then ready to tackle the list that I insist on writing in like 10 point font.  I have to call my mom twice (once about Easter baskets and once about hair color) and resist the urge to tell her everything that's happened in my life since I saw her Tuesday because the play place only gives you an hour (Fred Meyer you should rethink this).  It takes me 1 hour and 15 minutes to do my normal shopping.  Towards the end I have to decide what I can do without or have Dad pick up.

PSA: Do not buy the Spiderman soap no matter how cool the bottle, how many boys live in your house, or how good of a deal it is.  It smells like rotten berries.  Also, you probably shouldn't buy banana scented Minion soap either.

Two carts and five forms of payment later the cart guy and I are ready to pick up the three bigs.  Then, loaded up and looking like the Beverly Hillbillies moving to California we head to the minivan.  Only one child fell off on the way.  (Don't worry, I stopped to retrieve him.)  Once there I send the cart guy away because he doesn't need to be there for the craziness of reloading into the car seats.  Everyone gets a fruit pouch because it is past lunch and almost nap so sleep hangriness has set in.

The receipt is taller than any of my children!
P.S. This is the good picture.

We get home and HOORAY, Dad is home and can help unload all the groceries and children.  Food is put away and I start making lunch.  Three or four grilled cheese sandwiches (I lose count of what they eat), the rest of their apples from snack, all pouches finished and a few snagged cheese slices later and everyone is ready for naps.  Except the baby who has to be woken up to be fed so that he will sleep tonight (thank you Babywise for the years of sleep!).

Naps are great!

Dinner is cheater fish tacos with pre-packaged coleslaw and fish sticks.  I did make the lime crema to go on top though (which is only 3 ingredients but it makes me feel like I cooked).  I used a different brand of fish sticks and so dinner leaves something to be desired, and not just for the 5-year-old who had informed me at the store that he hated fish tacos.

The two biggest boys go to AWANA after they grudgingly eat their fish taco.  Thank you Dad for dropping off and picking up every week (and taking the toddler with you)! 

Then it's home to bed where there are tears because someone wasn't allowed to wash his hands, and kisses and prayers.  Then Netflix and ice cream for this Mom and Dad (and baby, because three's company!).