Pull up a chair...

...pour yourself a cup of coffee, and let me tell you about my day, if you'll permit me.

Hope you've got time.  It's a long, long story.  And it reveals some of my not-so-great moments as a mom.  But I've just got to vent a little.

Actually, I should back up to the weekend, just to give you some background information.

We dropped N and L off at my parents' house on Saturday.  We were able to spend some time with my grandparents who were visiting from Florida, which was great.  We also achieved the goal of securing child care for the older girls for Sunday, so that M and I could both sing solos at church and then head off on a house hunting extravaganza for the afternoon, with only one child in tow instead of three.  We then met my parents at a restaurant mid-way between our two houses for supper, exchanged the girls,  headed back home and had everyone (including ourselves) in bed by about 9:30.  It feels like we traveled the entire length of two states because... well, we did.

M woke up this morning at 4:30 (just after C had finished up a feeding) and was on the road to work by 5.

(During the summer, M gets Fridays off if he works an extra hour every other day of the week.  Yay for a day off, but... well... poor guy.  He already gets up so early, and this is just insane.)

C never really settled after that early morning feeding.  (I'm not sure why, the poor girl was exhausted after Sunday... but, in typical C fashion, she was all smiles all day yesterday, except for the last 20 minutes of the day in which she completely fell apart, screamed for 20 minutes, and then fell fast asleep.  Poor kid.)

So... back to today.  I dozed off and on, giving C her pacifier a couple of times and hoping that she would settle, until about 6 AM, which is when I heard L waking up.  I leaped out of bed and spirited L away downstairs so that she wouldn't wake N.  I knew that N was less likely to nap later and sleep off the weekend's activity.

After changing both L and C, I poured myself a cup of coffee (thank you to my amazing husband who always makes extra coffee so it is waiting for me when I wake up.  thank you.  thank you.)

And then I realized that we had very little to eat in the house (we usually do our grocery shopping on Sundays).  We had a small amount of milk, and one box of cereal, but it was not a kind that L likes.  I gave L a leftover biscuit to munch on and poured her a sippy cup of milk.  For myself, I scraped some leftover steel cut oatmeal out of the pot that had been sitting on the stove since the previous morning, when we had hastily left for church at 7 AM.

(Gross, I know.  Don't worry, I microwaved them sufficiently enough to kill any bacteria.  And sufficiently enough to burn my tongue.)

I scarfed down the oatmeal while throwing off a few emails to our realtor and our current landlord discussing possibilities for next year.  Then I sat down and played with L while I drank my coffee.  C watched us patiently from her bouncy seat with half-closed eyes.  After a while I briefly left L to take C  upstairs and nurse her back to sleep.  Mercifully (for her), it was not long before she was sound asleep and stayed that way for the next 2.5 hours.

About an hour later, when N woke up, I poured both N and L some cereal.  N ate all of hers while L picked up handfuls of soggy cereal and squished them through her fingers, saying "I'm milking the cow."  (Did I mention that the only cereal we had in the house was not a kind that she liked?)  I had some not-so-patient words with L about making a mess, and then cleaned it all up.

I started making a grocery list, hoping to make it out with the girls before N's dance class later in the day.  Then I remembered that L had wet through her diaper on our trip home the night before, and her car seat was soaked.  I wasn't going anywhere until that mess was cleaned up.

So I grumpily tried to figure out how to take apart L's car seat (you apparently need a doctorate in car seat design to be able to do this) all the while not-so-patiently shooing L away as she tried to sit in the seat while I was taking it apart, and/or pick apart the styrofoam pieces (you know, the ones that say DO NOT REMOVE OR DESTROY, OR THIS CAR SEAT WILL NEVER WORK AGAIN on them).

I finally got the cover off the seat and threw it in the washer.  I got the girls dressed, and they joined me outside and drew with sidewalk chalk while I hosed down the plastic under-part of the car seat, and then dried it off with rags.  I took the seat cover out of the washing machine and brought it outside to dry in the sun, just as I started to hear rumbles of thunder in the distance.

I threw all of the girls' chalk into a ziplock bag, grabbed the plastic car seat, the dirty rags I had used to dry it off, and the seat cover.  I not-so-patiently requested that the girls come inside, and after a few threats minutes, they reluctantly came in.  Literally 30 seconds after we closed the door, the skies opened up and it POURED for about the next two hours.

I realized that we were not going to make it to the grocery store, so I just focused on getting this car set dry before we needed to get N to dance class.

(Normally, I have child care and take N to dance class alone, since it happens right in the middle of L's and C's afternoon nap.  Because of the busy weekend, however, I hadn't thought ahead to arrange a sitter.  So I "had to" take all three girls, because I had spaced out and missed dance class last week, and N was so sorely disappointed that I didn't want to miss it again.)

I turned on a giant fan and put the car seat right in front of it.  Meanwhile, I let the girls watch a Richard Scarry video while I packed a lunch to take with us.  My goal was to get to the Y early enough so that L wouldn't fall asleep in the car (ruining her chances of a nap later) and have a "fun picnic lunch" before dance class.

I packed us a lunch.  Remember that we have no groceries.  Our picnic lunch consisted of saltines, sliced cheese, peanut butter, blueberries, cherries, and popcorn.

I checked on L's car seat as the time drew near to leave for dance class.  It is dry!  Victory!  I run out to the car while the girls are still watching TV and install the car seat (in the pouring rain).

When I come back in, C is waking up, so I nurse and change her, girls get rain boots and jackets on, and we're ready to go.  I get all three girls in the car (in the pouring rain).  Yeah.  There were some not-so-patient words.

(Despite all of my carefully laid plans, L falls asleep in the car on the way to the Y.)

We arrive at the Y, and I somehow manage to carry a baby, the diaper bag, the bag with our picnic lunch, my purse, and an umbrella (in the pouring rain).  L and N bravely walk in on their own next to me, holding hands under the same umbrella.  Some not-so-patient directions as we cross the parking lot together.

We sit in the lobby at the Y and I distribute our lunch.  We're eating and it's a picnic, but not what I would call fun.  I'm trying to eat while holding the baby (yes, I did bring the Baby Bjorn, but I'm just too lazy to put her in it at this point).  And the girls are just staring into space, exhausted, as they chew.  None of us are talking.

The girls are somewhat revived after eating and they have some fun playing with the blocks and toys in the lobby.  C is hungry again and tired, and so I nurse her to keep her calm while the big girls play.  There are lots of people in the lobby and some give me funny looks for nursing without a cover, but I'm beyond caring at this point.

N sees her dance teacher arriving and excitedly goes into the dance room to begin class.  Of course L wants to go in and dance too-- I did not prepare for this possibility.  I tell her that we can watch, which she does pretty patiently for a while, and then starts playing with some resistance bands on the floor that look pretty dangerous.  I try to divert her by suggesting we go watch the kids in the pool.  After a few threats minutes, she agrees.

We watch the kids in the pool for a while.  L poops in her diaper.  I figure we'll just wait until N finishes dancing to change it, even though you can smell her from at least 10 feet away.

N finishes dancing and we (veerrry slowly) make our way to the bathroom so that I can change L.  I have C in the Bjorn at this point, but she's facing out, and I'm afraid she'll put her hands in the poop while I'm changing it, so I have to put a pad down and lay C on the bathroom floor while I change L at the changing station.

We finally make our way out to the car.  N buckles herself in and I buckle C, but L is fooling around in the car and ignoring my repeated requests to get in her seat.  (Keep in mind that she was up until nearly 10 PM the night before, and we're now at least two hours into her usual nap time.)

I threaten to put her to bed immediately when we get home if she doesn't comply (what kind of a well-thought-out punishment is that?) and of course, she doesn't.  I grab her, kicking and screaming, and bump her head on the roof of the car before forcing her into her seat and buckling her in, sobbing.

And then I spent the entire drive home feeling guilty, not just for the grabbing and the forcing and the buckling, but for taking her out during nap time in the first place, after such a crazy weekend, and for all the not-so-patient moments I've had with her that day.

But of course I have to follow through on my punishment when we get home, so as soon as I pull up I get her out of the car and put her right into her bed.  She cries some more, but then is asleep within 10 minutes.

I unload our stuff, get C to sleep, and lay N down for a quiet time.  And then I read this (from this blog):

"I had [a conversation] with another young parent at Sukie's wedding. He commented on his growing resolve to homeschool his children.

At that moment I thought of how, well, homeschooling or not, that's not so much the point as that it's worth it to commit, to devote yourself to the mission of building your family and beyond into the community and the culture. To do what it takes. For a long time I didn't understand how to do that; not that I think you ever really do understand, human nature being fallen and all, but I really often felt lost.

There is suffering and disappointment; and there are moments when you just don't think you will make it, in the sense that you can't imagine how these fairly intractable people with their headlong refusal to mold themselves into an approved happy family vision, and especially yourself with all your faults and failings (and not to mention the world beating down on you), will come together in some sort of cohesive unity. And then one day, by the grace of God, they do. And you do. And you are you, the collective you that you were trying to be, only at the same moment -- like a wave on the sand that retreats before it quite reaches the tide line -- they have their eye on another shore.

But it's all good."

And I felt a little better.  Today, I was far from perfect.  But I did "what it takes".  And by the grace of God, perhaps my stumbling, imperfect efforts will create something beautiful.  Something worthwhile.

And so I prayed for that.

And I prayed that my children would remember only the nice words I said today, and not the other ones.

Can I hear an amen?