Long days are so very, very long.
This one started in the wee hours of the morning with Dominic stumbling over the fan and careening into the foot of our bed. Stephen and I both woke up with hearts racing, utterly convinced that someone had broken into the house. After a quick snuggle and potty break, Dominic slumbered peacefully in his own bed again. Stephen and I, on the other hand, stared at the ceiling until our adrenaline levels dropped.
This pushed off the start of the day as everyone slept in, a positive and a negative. Little ones awoke hungry and parents awoke behind the curve, trying to play catch up. This is always ungraceful at best.
Stephen was then called away for a work emergency on the day that he and Quinton were to buddy up and run errands. Woe and weeping ensued.
Next Blaise tried to bring a large drippy dead rat into the house. After much screaming and squealing, we managed to hustle him back outside with the dead rodent still firmly clamped between his jaws. I had the inglorious job of prying the rat out, while squealing of course, and tossing it into the bushes. The fling was reflexive rather than intentional as the rat then had to be deposited in the trash. Thank you to the genius that invented rubber gloves.
Back to the house: children were running amok. Schooling was negligible. After I breathed deeply and regrouped, the children were tasked with learning something. Anything would do at this point.
Blaise again: I spied the rascal chasing the chickens through the yard. He was having a grand time as they squawked and fluttered in the most enticing manner. I headed out into the rain again to haul him back up to the house. To his credit, he did look chagrin. He was firmly deposited on the front porch with a baby gate to bar his way. Yes, I know what you are thinking.
Inside: Amok. I found all the little ones and redeposited the big ones in the school room with stern orders to write something.
And back to Blaise: I quietly checked on him through the windows, fully expecting him to be sleeping on the lounge chair. Naive, I know. Well, he wasn't there. So Quinton and I headed out to round up the chickens and find the escapee. Q found all but two chickens and one dog. After searching all over our muddy and weedy slope, Blaise was discovered munching on one of the birds. I calmly
furiously hauled him back up the steep slippery slope and chained him to a tree. Better, I know. I then promptly called Stephen and let him know how much I could sympathize with his mother and her escaping sheep and pigs back in Idaho when she was mother to five under five.
After a few tears, I donned the blessed rubber gloves again in order to bring the chicken back up for Blaise. Apparently, the best way to deter future killings is to have the dog and the dead bird in close proximity for an extended period of time. I will spare you the details.
Inside: The big kids realized that mom was close to the cliff's edge and quietly picked up the house. We popped in a movie for everyone to watch and I decompressed, again. Finally, I shooed everyone upstairs for baths.
Shortly, I was greeted by the sounds of laughter and joy. Bubbles and warm water saved the day.
What a wonderful day! Mass in the morning followed by food, fun, friends, and family is a recipe for happy children and parents. My incredibly talented mom made all the costumes except for Xavier. Each fabulous costume was more wonderful than the next. I loved just watching them prance and pose as they assumed their heroic identities. Thank you Nanna!!
