Ahem. I have spent the week wondering where in the merry name of all distracted universes the time keeps going to. I wake up. I go to bed. In between there's generally 12 to 18 hours of something going on, but I'll be double-jiggered if I can always remember what it was. Written down in black and white pixelations it just doesn't look that impressive. Wake up. Wander into the kitchen. Try to figure out what to feed Banshees that doesn't involve A. cooking or B. cleaning or C. cleaning, cooking, and then cleaning again. Give up and go for option C. Put TubDucks in the tub. Clean out the Saxony bin. Check on the outdoor ducks to make sure they have clean water, lots of food, and oh yeah, count heads to make sure everybody made it through the night. Interlaced between all of this moments of "Quit doing th-- I said quit doing that! A dozen times! WHY ARE YOU STILL DOING IT??
I don't know.
Well, QUIT. IT. PLEASE.
Turn the Saxony eggs in the incubator and wonder if obsessive observation will get the pitifully few remaining Appleyard eggs to hatch. (It won't, but that has never stopped me.)
Catch up on the internet news, including my multiple email addresses. Realize that I have an issue due very very shortly and No Authors. None. Well, one, but he submitted early and I would run off with him for that alone but his wife and my husband and our collected offspring probably wouldn't understand. And I'm probably not his type anyway.
Go play with the ducks.
Untangle Banshees who are using sophisticated logic techniques for situations that are highly illogical. Wonder if drinking is still an option. Decide that yes, it is, but only if I'm drinking unsweetened ice tea so concentrated it could fill my ink catridges without anybody noticing the difference.
Go play with ducks again. Let the Banshees play with the older ducklings. Wonder why lunchtime went by without me noticing it or fixing anything for it. Well, the offspring aren't complaining (that's what the full fruit bowl is for and the sliced home-made bread over there on the counter. And they know how to get into the vegetables in a pinch. They aren't going hungry, just waiting for me to notice that nothing hot has gone into their maws for a while now.) Fix food, wonder if I should call it lunch or dinner or just nourishment at this point.
Spend more time on the internet researching washing machine options. A. repair, B. replace, C. replace and figure out how to dismantle the old machine in as destructive a manner as possible. A will cost nearly as much as B and DBS won't let me consider C. Something about zoning restrictions. Pah.
quit doing that I told you a thousand and one times that you are NOT supposed to bop your sister with a pillow because she doesn't want to watch the same movie you want to watch and have seen if I must remind you at least 8 times over the last two days. she's entitled to a turn and I'm entitled to a rest and I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT ANYMORE
Watch as LB comes into the room completely oblivious to my presence, stop, plop her book down, try to spell and sound out several words, and then pick the book up and wander off, blissfully satisfied that she's worked something out. Figure out fractions with EB with the aid of a cookbook. Figure out that the reason MB can't recount any incident with any accuracy (or indeed, at all) is because he needs to re-enact the scene in his head and sometimes with his body before he can remember it. Melissa is right; this is a kinesthetic child. He'll probably have to learn his fractions while bouncing on a pogo stick. Decide that a pogo stick is better than bungee cords. Decide that I'm thrilled to finally notice that he needs to be physical when he's remembering and I'm also the world's most incompetent mother not to have noticed it before. Here's hoping children are as resilient as everyone tells me they can be.
Decide that frontloading washing machine from the local dings'n'dents shop will be just perfect. We just won't be able to drive any further than the end of the driveway for a couple of months. Oh well, that gives us time to get used to the bicycles.
Tell the gentleman (term very loosely used) from the cable company that YES I know I'm cutting off the cable t.v. and WHY is because I can't afford it anymore and by anymore I mean under any circumstances you care to name unless you are offering it to me for free. Repeat this three times and then threaten to get very very irritated. Goodbye and have a good day to you too, buddy. I am keeping the internet connection because I need the internet connection, but we do not now and never have needed needed the television set. It's a pacifier, it's a brain sucker, I lose entire days to it, and yes I'm going to miss it enormously. Feeding the children and keeping the lights on is more important than whether we get to see another rerun of whatever it is we seem to be watching right now, though. Gas = $4.32 a gallon. 50# flour = $34 when it used to be $14. Cable =/= necessary, thanks very much.
Run all over the middle part of my very large county, because if I'm going to waste the gas to get to the middle part of my very large county, I'm going to do as many errands as is humanly possible so I don't have to come out again to the middle part of my very large county. But at least everything that needed to get done has gotten done and the Banshees have new pairs of shoes to show for it all.
Now I have to get all of the Banshees to bed because, after all, I only announced that they would have to go to bed at 9 p.m. half an hour ago and nobody could be expected to remember or heed that. And after that I've got to fix the toilet -- again -- but at least it's a very old, very familiar, and very cheap fix that generally stays in place for a few years.
And I'm going to ignore doing dishes tonight in favor of egg-watch, because two of the Appleyards have finally decided to pip their eggs and announce their intentions of joining the world. Sleep? Should. Probably won't.
Tomorrow we do all of this (or something incredibly like it) all over again.
I should be skinnier than I am.