Five or six years ago, I had a toddler, 5 year old, 8 year old, 10 year old, 13 year old 16 year old and 20 year old.
That was pretty busy.
Add to that recovering from an emergency bowel resection and an adult daughter in the throes of depression, and you’ll have a pretty clear picture of the kind of crazy we were dealing with.
Because of I was still recovering from my illness and surgery, life had to be quieter than usual for us. I was in the fortunate position of having a daughter who could drive, so I could stay home most of the time. So she handled most of the grocery shopping and lesson driving. I stayed home almost every day. And I learned something from that.
I learned that I LOVE that. The more I’m home, the more I’m able to stay on top of my housework. The more I stay on top of things, the more I want to be home. Love, love, love.
I’ve always had a “three days at home” minimum rule. Meaning that I didn’t go out at all three days of the week. Didn’t get in the car, except for emergencies. Which meant bleeding. Or someone I love kids were bleeding, so I needed to help out. Pretty much blood was the necessary ingredient to budge me out of the house. Maybe a toothache. I’m not that heartless.
I’ve always found that if I’m out more than a couple of days a week, my kids are grumpy. They don’t know what to do with themselves. It’s true.
Day, to day I got up, threw in a load of laundry of laundry, had breakfast and read to the kids. We did a little clean up together and then I sat down and did a little work with the kids one on one.
We were dealing roughly with kindergarten, grade three, grade six, grade eight and grade ten.
Toddler. Depressed Person. Recovering mom.
This afternoon I’ll sketch out juggling the sit down work with that particular crowd, at those particular