A day in the life (with a 5, 3, and 1 year old)

Many of the blogs I follow will regularly publish a post chronicling the family’s daily routine and the changes that take place as the children grow.  I’ve thought about doing something similar, mainly for the purposes of remembering.  I’m amazed (and dismayed) at how quickly I forget what life was like even a fairly short time ago!

I also do get asked questions like, “So, what do you do all day?” or “What do you do in your free time?” or “What else are you doing other than taking care of the kids?”  These questions are asked out of genuine curiosity or interest, and I certainly don’t find them offensive.  What I do find, though, is that answering the above questions seems impossible.  I stutter, hem and haw, or laugh the questions off with a wave.  I don’t even know how to describe what I do all day!  A “day in the life” entry would certainly help me and anyone else who is interested have a better understanding, right? 

 

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A simple schedule might look like this:

7 a.m.           Breakfast time for the kids
                     Make lunches for Paul and Ryan

7:35 a.m.      Paul and Ryan leave.

If you peeked into our kitchen at 7:10 on a weekday morning, you might indeed find Ryan and Miles seated at the counter, digging into bowls of oatmeal.  Paul is upstairs, putting on tie and shoes.  I am putting sandwiches into Ziploc bags and beginning to fill the lunchboxes.  Then, I see Paul coming down the stairs, Abby smiling sweetly in his arms.  I hadn’t heard her over the monitor but Paul did.  He’s changed her diaper and is bringing her down for breakfast.  He straps her into the high chair and heads back up to finish getting ready for work.

Naturally, I stop working on lunches to get Abby’s breakfast.  I pour her milk into her sippy cup and take it over to the microwave for a quick warm-up (Our little girl doesn’t like cold milk, and what’s 25 seconds for baby #3?).  I figure 25 seconds is just long enough to slice up her banana and get her started on some food.  As I am reaching for the banana, I hear Ryan exclaim, “Oh, no!  Mama, Miles spilled his milk!”)

Sure enough, I turn to see milk flying in all directions across the counter.  I drop the banana, grab a handful of paper towels, and begin sopping up the milk.  As I move toys and papers out of the milk’s path, I notice Ryan’s math homework hasn’t been completed.  “Ryan, you forgot to do your homework.  Finish your breakfast quickly so that you can get this done.”

The counter’s finally clean, but now both Ryan and Miles are asking for refills on their oatmeal.  I grab the big bowl of oatmeal and add more to theirs, along with the required raisins.  I set the now-empty bowl in the sink, turn on the faucet to soak it in hot water, and notice that the opened lunchboxes on the counter only contain sandwiches.  I glance at the clock on the stove.  7:20 a.m.  Better get those apples washed and water bottles filled.  “Ryan, please do your homework!”  I turn off the water in the sink because the bowl is now overflowing.

I wash the apples, throw snacks into baggies, fill up Ryan’s water bottle, and put his lunch box into his book bag.  The emptiness of the back pack reminds me that Ryan still hasn’t handed me his homework.  He’s goofing off with Miles instead because “I couldn’t find a pencil.”  I say, “Ryan, that’s ridiculous.  You know where the pencils are!”  Since we are running so late, I hurry over to the drawer and grab one for him anyway. 

As I walk past the microwave, I notice the light blinking “Ready.”  Hmmm…what’s ready?  Oh, right.  Abby’s milk!  Sure enough, there Abby sits in her highchair, watching all of the action without food or drink.  I grab her milk out of the microwave, screw on the sippy cup lid, and hand it over.  Now for her breakfast.

“Here’s my homework, Mama!”  Ryan hands over his homework.  I glance at the clock on the stove.  7:27 a.m.  Yikes!  “Ryan, run upstairs and brush your teeth.  Hurry!”  Ryan heads upstairs, although he is hardly hurrying, just as Miles calls out, “Mama, I’m thirsty!”  Thirsty?  Why, he shouldn’t be thirsty!  I already gave him a glass of….. milk.  That he spilled.  “Hold on, buddy!  I’ve got a few other things to do first.”  I know I’m forgetting something, but I have no idea what it is.

I am holding Ryan’s homework in my hand.  That’s what I was forgetting!  I put the homework into the blue folder, slide it into the back pack, zip up the back pack, and put it by the door.  Paul and Ryan come down the stairs together.  Except Ryan has no socks.  “Ryan, I put socks out with your clothes.  Run upstairs and find them!”  He turns back around. 

I glance at the clock on the stove.  7:30 a.m.  Paul is packing his briefcase, getting his coat on, and taking things out to the car.  Ryan descends the stairs, socks in hand but not on.  “Okay, get those shoes and socks on!  Daddy’s waiting!”  Miles wails, “Maaaaammmmaaa, I’m thirsty!” 

I grab a cup out the cabinet, fill it with milk, and give it to Miles, who isn’t satisfied, “No, Mama, I don’t want milk.  I want juice!”  It doesn’t matter that we have milk with breakfast every morning.  Now Miles is pouting loudly over his milk.  Ryan is miraculously in socks and shoes.  “Great!  Let’s get your warmest coat on.  It’s cold outside.” Goodbye hugs and kisses for Paul and Ryan, and they are out the door.

I glance at the clock on the stove.  7:35 a.m.  They left on time!  I scan the kitchen counters, littered with dirty dishes and lunch supplies.  And then my gaze falls on our patient Abby, who still hasn’t gotten her breakfast.

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That was 25 minutes of my day, and it’s a great illustration of the way the rest of the day will go.  Instead of making lunches or feeding Abby breakfast, I might be trying to start a load of laundry, vacuum, empty the dishwasher, make a phone call, get everybody out the door, or have a conversation with Paul.  I might be trying to cook dinner while Miles bangs on the drums, Ryan’s asking me a question, Abby is crying at my feet, and the phone is ringing.  No exaggeration.  It happens all of the time.  

There are quieter moments, especially when Ryan is at school and Miles is in preschool (T/Th mornings).  We might cram in errands on those days.  Or, Abby might sit on the floor in her room, flipping through books (I know!) while I clean a bathroom.  Or, I might just finish setting down the cleaning supplies in the boys’ bathroom, only to have Ryan’s school call to tell me he’s feeling sick.  Then those cleaning supplies might sit in the bathroom for 3 days before I have time to finish the job I barely started.  That was this week.

For this organization-loving, introverted scheduler, these days are absolutely exhausting.  Naptime might find me barely able to find the energy to make myself lunch, even though I’ll be starving.  I am an internal processor, too, which isn’t very conducive to the life described above.  I suffer from Brain Clutter a lot.  And, yes, you have likely identified multiple flaws in my morning routine (get Abby’s breakfast ready in advance, always finish homework the night before, etc.), but I’ll just say, “It’s easier said than done” most of the time.

Now you will likely agree with me that a “day in the life” would either be deceptively straightforward or the length of an average novel.  I think it’s best to leave it at this for now -  Abby’s waking from her nap, the boys are wrestling on the couch, and I’m counting down the minutes until Paul comes home (110).  Maybe next year?  And if I forget, please feel free to remind me.