pooped parent

Parenting this week pooped me out. I mean physically and emotionally. I babysat for friends four out of five days. They were great kids, but they tired me out. By the end of the week I was living my greatest fear. I was one of the women who attend HFP Enrichment for the social interaction and to fulfill their needs rather than out of a sense of duty. Yikes.

This was week one of part-time homeschooling Wilson. It has reduced my stress by half and 4 out of 5 days were big successes. We studied nosebleeds, chocolate and the properties of concrete. It is hard work and is challenging me to be organized and routine. Marcos has benefited from consistent naps. The experience has clearly demonstrated that I have absolutely got to block out a chunk of time for my other kids too. It still feels like the right thing to do.

The other night I reminded Wilson that he needed to remember the name of the book he was reading. He looked up at me and in all sincerity said, "Mom, do you know how many things I have to remember every day? I have to remember my shoes, my clothes, brushing my teeth, making my bed. I'm overwhelmed." It was very insightful and I realized that nothing is automatic for Wilson. Even Max doesn't have to put a lot of energy into remembering things. Wilson, for whatever physiological reason, has to make an effort to remember things that are automatic for the rest of us. With that realization I decided to pick three things I want him to remember and the rest I have to let go. I'm hoping I can talk his teacher into the same.

Eliza told the dentist the other day that her favorite thing to do at school was "make babies." (We are sure she meant draw or color babies, but it didn't sound too good). The neighbor told Cooper that babies were made by someone peeing in a bumhole. Cooper was very grossed out. I also spent several hours on Friday with an acquaintance whose brother in law was involved in child pornography just 30 miles from my home. Needless to say, we have ramped up the frequency of our sex talks, which seem to happen most often over breakfast. I know our discussions are going well when Eliza says to me, "If someone touches my privates I punch them until they bleed, right Mommy?" That's right my girl!

Cooper James is an official 9 year old. I couldn't resist making the most obnoxious candybar cake to take to him at school. I spent a silly amount of money on pure junkfood sugar crap, and it was worth everything to see his smile when I walked into the classroom. He was thrilled with his Nerf guns and water guns and money from Grandmas and Grandpas. His birthday breakfast request was ebelskeivers, and just the smell brings back so many childhood memories. Poor Cooper was really under the weather, but seemed to enjoy his day anyway.

Today was the final basketball game in Colton, a mere hour and 15 minutes away (unbelievable!) Tony was on call this weekend so we made a day of it and spent the afternoon flying kites in a beautiful park in Lewiston. I even fed the kids hotdogs and soda from Costco for lunch. I vowed if one more person in that store from Hell said to me, "Wow, you really have your hands full!" I was going to scream. I need to hear how adorable and well-behaved my children are, not that they are a handfull, or the implied message that I am frazzled. I hope I remember this when Tony and I are old and go to Costco for two items and feel compelled to comment to mothers of multiple children.

We are fasting right now for Debbie and Rand's little boy Adam. He is three months old and has menengitis. As of yesterday they were having a hard time controlling his seizures. My heart is breaking for them.

Tomorrow is Mom's birthday. I wish more than anything she could have one normal day with normal energy and normal aches and pains. 61 is too young to feel the way she does. We are having family home evening together which I think she'll enjoy.

Time for this pooped Mom to curl up with a good book and gear up for tomorrow's ironically named "Day of Rest."