In my household, the unexpected is to be expected. Very cliché I know, and not at all original, but I was at a loss of a better way to describe it. You see, with nine individual people in the house, someone is bound to throw a wrench in the gears.
Mother’s Day Breakfast, complete with omelet and tea.
Last Sunday there were at least two women who would have noticed that I did not write anything; they are my mother and my mother-in-law. To you two, I offer in writing my profound apologies. I have been told that writers are lazy by nature… well, they’re right. BUT, in my defense I have been quite busy with Pre-Mothers Day, Mother’s Day, and a whole brigade of viruses that we thought had been defeated two weeks ago; but were really laying in wait for us to drop our guard and open the windows. Sneaky little assassins.
Out of a clear sky the younger boys were struck with the flu, again. Through a busy week Wife did battle with her miniature foe, and finally succumbed herself, again. Unfortunately when Wife was laid up with the flu, it happened to be the weekend that some of her extended family was arriving at her parents’ house. The following day I threw in the wrench by catching the same bug. Two weeks planning for this reunion and my family got sick, one… at… a… time…
And so I move on. It’s in my caricature to hold on and ride out the storm. But Wife on the other hand steams onward through thick and thin on a steady course. While Wife was down I carried on with the care of the children. When Wife was back up she not only set to right the house I had neglected but also the children I had not neglected. With the skill of a watch smith and the finesse of a drill sergeant, she set her skills to work pulling wrenches out of all points of the house and children. With an energy previously unaccounted for, she set all to proper working order.
I stayed in bed with my flu and kept my wrenches to myself.
Imagine a gigantic mountain of golden sand, the finest of grains tumbling between your toes. A rolling sandy slide on the other side promising to fill your shorts up.
The treasures hidden just beneath the surface if you only dig down far enough. The clean grains that fall right off you and don’t stick to your hands like clay or mud. The fresh smell that a pile of sand gives off after it has been recently turned. On top of the artificial hill you feel like you are on top of world itself. You can now imagine what my children feel like.
At one moment I am finishing my meal, and the next my plate has been whisked away before I have a chance to dish up a second helping. I am (by necessity) very possessive of my dishes, shooing off the girls from my place while Wife has them loading the dishwasher. Unfortunately I rarely watch out for my glass of water at my bedside.
I would think that #5 would see my massive boots and avoid them. He instead plays a dangerous game of hopscotch to stay only one step ahead of or behind them. Please be aware, I mean one of his steps, not one of mine. Poor planning. Granted, there are times in which he can bob and weave around my legs with the dexterity of a cat; while other times he has the slow wits of a bumbling dog who finds a way to nail both legs, one right after the other.
And the little boys are not the only children who end up under foot. No, the girls were just as bad. They would hang onto their parents’ knees without announcing themselves. Stand hidden under Wife’s pregnant belly. Sneak behind me in a most uncharacteristic silence. And in all cases find their toes stepped on.
A little before midday the festivities at the family park started. All of our extended family gathered for the Easter egg hunt. I think we all over ate. Games were played (in which my mortality was made abundantly clearer). We finished off what was left of lunch for dinner. And we put the sun to bed.
spill I took during tag. But soon learned that I was not the only injured party. #1 suffered a sunburn and a sore finger. #2 had a stomped foot. #7 also had a sunburn. And everyone else was suffering from “stummy aches.” It seemed that this Easter was not as injury free as I first thought.
On any other night we would have sent all the children straight to bed, however it was Easter and my cousin was visiting from out of town. Those two elements let the children stay up late with her watching cartoons. That meant I went out into the night with a sharp knife looking for our aloe vera cactus in order to sooth the sunburns the children obtained. Rest assured, I found the aloe vera, cut off a leaf, and returned without incident (however I believe my daughter would have preferred a mishap).
There are more respectful ways to play with a palm branch, like folding it into the shape of a cross. A well indulged pastime for myself. However, #6 figured out a way to shake most of the cross out, leaving a knot at the end of his palm leaf transforming it into a mace.
