I went for my run in the wonderful 60 degree weather. (I really can't remember a front coming through this early in September before. What a great reprieve!) When I got back, the kids were still sleeping, so I decided to start right away on the last of the painting. Just a few more rooms and everything will be done. Robert had already cut in the library on Saturday, so I started on that. As I rolled paint, the kids started waking up and coming in to talk to me. I finished up pretty quickly, and made them breakfast.
We did a little school, and I set them up to do their independent work. The older kids and I usually take turns doing school and watching the little people. I decided that today, I'd use that time to paint the boys' bedroom instead of doing more school with the younger ones.
Nathan and Megan had a Readers' Theater performance at the Senior Citizen's Center. A friend picked them up for me, and I put on an educational video for the younger boys and continued painting. (We'll just pretend the video was educational, okay?)
I checked on them periodically, and it seemed like they were absorbed in the "education." The baby wanted a snack, and he fell asleep in his high chair with his oatmeal cookie. By lunchtime, I had finished painting the room! I fed them, and when Nathan and Megan got home, I was ready to move the furniture back into place.
First things, first: All the junk that had been hiding behind their beds had to be cleaned up. World War III was waged over that, but in the end Mommy was victorious. The furniture was put back in place. Steffen could now take his nap! Or not. He's in that aggravating, "I don't need a nap. I'll just start melting down at 6:30 every evening" stage. Mommy needed a nap, but that wasn't to be.
By this time, it was getting pretty late in the afternoon. Nathan and Megan needed to be taken to gymnastics and swimming. I was still covered in blue paint. I fed Austin and made plans to take a REALLY fast shower.
As I sat on the couch nursing Austin, Evan said, "Mommy, I think the little boys got into the paint." "What paint?" I was pretty sure that I had secured all the paint after the work day. "The paint upstairs." Uh-oh. I didn't know there was paint upstairs. I'm sure someone told me, but I must have forgotten.
So I headed upstairs and, sure enough, there is paint upstairs. A five gallon bucket- not full, but that's irrelevant at this point. Apparently, someone had decided to paint the bookshelves. I did a quick time calculation. There was no way I was going to be able to clean up this mess AND take a shower. Figuring that the mess would be there when I got home (unfortunately), I grabbed my clothes and hit the shower.
Back in the shower. I was nearly done getting all of the blue paint off of my arms, when I heard another child at the door. I was pretty sure it was Steffen, and I was also pretty sure that I heard the word "paint." Sure enough, he'd gotten into the little bit of paint right by the bucket that was apparently still wet. Now, his footprints had been added to the mess.
I grabbed him and put him in the tub, but he didn't want me to give him a bath. He could do it by himself. Explaining that it was too late for that, I washed him up anyway. Bad idea. He descended into full two-year-old-fit mode. As soon as I finished washing him, he shot out of the tub (catching a wet toddler is like trying to grab a greased pig) and stomped his little foot back into the paint puddle. "There! Now I take a bath myself!"
At this point, I had to turn away from him and laugh. What else could I do? Once I'd wiped the grin off my face, I dealt with him sternly. "I so sorry," he said.
And it was into the car, where I spilled my (caffeinated) tea before we headed out. We left the driveway eight minutes late. Not bad, considering.