Friday night:
YoungestBoy baseball game.
Babygirl, Twinboys and I went to pool. They swam while I tried to stay warm in my jeans and long sleeves.

Saturday:
Donuts.
Husband prepared for and conducted memorial service.
I dusted, vacuumed, shuffled books around my shelves, decluttered and straightened up three bedrooms upstairs.
Babygirl boycotted nap.
YoungestBoy baseball game again.
Escaped house at earliest opportunity to shop for baby gifts. Stayed away until after kids’ bedtime, but returned to find them still up.

Sunday:
Church. I wandered the hallways with Babygirl during church. Not so refreshing for the soul and not a good enough reason to wear pantyhose, but I trust this stage won’t last forever.
While husband napped with Babygirl, I drove to the closest thrift store to browse until it was time to go to a babyshower at 3:00 p.m. Found bargains.

The baby shower was for the mom whose five-year old son died recently from a blood disorder. In fact, he died on April 15. Her baby girl is due on June 27. I have never been so aware of the almost-simultaneous joy and grief of life. I wondered how she can stand to press a hand to her swollen belly and feel the life wriggling inside. Does she fear another loss? Does she allow herself to hope? I would be terrified, I think.

Over the weekend, when I’ve seen the news coverage of the 18-year old girl who disappeared in Aruba, I’ve looked at Babygirl and thought, “Never. You will never leave my sight.” And my husband said, “I would never let her go on a trip to a foreign country when she is 18!”

I agreed, but. I went to Tahiti when I was 16. And Jamaica when I was 18. I didn’t go to drink and party, true, but still. I had a passport. And I had parents who let me go and never let on if they fretted about me while I was gone.

This will be out last full week of school. Before Saturday, I have to prepare for a training meeting for my volunteers for Vacation Bible School. I have a decorating committee meeting on Thursday. My “to-do-or-not-to-do” list is still long and unmanageable.

My “vacation” is rushing toward me like a tornado. Help.

Tonight:
Upstairs of my house: tidy, dust-free, clean.
Downstairs of my house: complete pig-sty, neglected while I concentrated on upstairs. Sigh.

The problem with shopping at 9:30 p.m. is three-fold.

1) The grocery store aisles are clogged with pallets of food and products waiting to be shelved. Shopping is an obstacle course, one in which you manage to be stuck in traffic jams even though only three other women are shopping. I kept having head-on collisions with one woman who seemed to forget she was in a public place. She stood mid-aisle, pondering items, oblivious to me. If I’d been sitting in my car in an intersection, I would have honked my horn.

2) The items on sale for 10 for $10 are sold out.

3) Simple fatigue. Babygirl woke at 5:38 a.m., and though I didn’t drag myself from bed until 6:40 a.m., I wandered through a cloud of exhaustion all day. It didn’t help matters that I was completely out of Diet Coke today. By lunchtime, my head ached. I left my house reluctantly tonight, wiped out, but in dire need of provisions. Especially Diet Coke with Lime.

I contemplated cracking open a 2-liter bottle and swigging that precious brown fizzy liquid mid-aisle, but instead, I kept moving.

Oh, and I thought of another problem with shopping at 9:30 p.m. When one shops late, one returns home late. One does not begin to blog until 11:00 p.m., which results in a truly pathetic string of words talking about nothing. Who do I think I am? Seinfeld?

And that list from yesterday? Still mostly undone, but now I did create a beautiful organized to-do list, tasks numbered one through twenty. That counts for something.

Over at this blog, she shares her day’s events. In lieu of my planned post for today which declares how judgmental I’m feeling lately about almost everything, I offer instead, a boring recount of my day.

5:10 a.m.: Alarm rings. Paw at clock until noise stops.
5:19 a.m.: Alarm rings again. I get up, pull on clothes and glasses.
5:30 a.m.- 6:30 a.m.: Four mile walk.
6:45 a.m. – 7:15 a.m.: Shower while Babygirl stands outside the stall and asks me questions.
7:30 a.m.: DaycareKid arrives. YoungestBoy wakes. I rock Babygirl.
8:00 a.m.: Homework time for YoungestBoy. Breakfast for him and Babygirl.
8:30 a.m.: CuteBaby arrives. YoungestBoy leaves for school.
9:00 a.m.: Twins wake and start school work. CuteBaby naps. Toddlers play/fight. Fold laundry, check blogs, answer email and phone, supervise schoolwork, wash more laundry. Doze in recliner while toddlers watch Mary Poppins.
11:00 a.m.: CuteBaby awake. Twins make and eat lunch.
11:45 a.m.: CuteBaby leaves for lunch break with mom. Babygirl throws fit. Put her in crib for 30 minutes.
Noon: Feed toddlers lunch.
12:45 p.m.: CuteBaby returns. Twins do school work.
1:00 p.m.: Naptime for DaycareKid and CuteBaby. Babygirl watches show until 1:30.
1:30 p.m.: Nap. Fall asleep with Babygirl.
2:15 p.m.: My lunch break.
2:30 p.m.: Babygirl falls off bed with a thump and wakes. Sit and rock her.
3:30 p.m.: YoungestBoy returns. DaycareKid wakes. Neighbor Mom calls–take opportunity to discuss yesterday.
4:00 p.m.: CuteBaby wakes. Feed bottle. Neighbor kids arrive.
4:30 p.m.: DaycareKid mom arrives to pick up DaycareKid.
5:00 p.m.: Neighbor kids leave. Boil spaghetti noodles, warm sauce and meatballs.
5:15 p.m.: CuteBaby’s mom arrives and takes him home.
5:30 p.m.: Eat dinner.
6:00 p.m.: Send boys outside. Babygirl goes for ride with Daddy. I vacuum, fold laundry, read email.
6:30 p.m.: Babygirl gets a bath.
7:00 p.m.: Sit with Babygirl while she watches video. Read book, fall asleep.
8:00 p.m.: Babygirl goes to bed. Watch “Survivor.”
9:00 p.m.: Watch “Apprentice.”
10:00 p.m.: Write this lame blog post.
11:00 p.m.: Go to bed.

Tomorrow: Lather, rinse, repeat.

Actually, tomorrow I’m taking my mother out for dinner. My husband gave me $100 cash to spend on it, but my mother and I agreed: let’s have a reasonably priced dinner, then go shopping with the rest of the money! So, that’s what we’ll do. We plan to have dinner at a waterfront seafood restaurant that serves the best clam chowder and fish and chips.

Boring. I warned you.

Did you hear that? Listen.

You don’t hear anything? Me, either! That, my friends, is the rare sound of silence.

DaycareKid = absent.
Babygirl = napping.
CuteBaby = napping.
Youngestboy = at school for another thirty minutes.
Twin Boys = with dad at meeting with mentor teacher.

Me? Diet Coke, blogs, blinders on so as to not notice the scattered debris on the floor.

Oh, that silence also means one more thing: the laundry is finished and a better housewife would jump up and go fold it.

I am not that housewife. I must enjoy this quiet while I can.

It’s nearly 11 p.m. and the weekend has come to an end. My family room floor is littered with junk food crumbs from our very loud Superbowl party. If you can call it that. Friends needed childcare for a couple of hours this afternoon, so we had our kids, plus their three kids. Yes, that means twin 10 year olds, a 9 year old, twin 8 year olds, a nearly 6 year old and Babygirl. You would not even believe the level of noise. None of the boys has an “indoor” voice. They had a great time, though, and happily, they were outside during the half-time show which featured Sean Puff P. Diddy Daddy Combs (whom I despise) and his crotch-grabbing friend, Nelly, (my great-aunt is named, Nelly) and Janet Jackson’s bare right breast.

My husband worked on Friday (his day off) and Saturday (his sort of day off) and then, of course, today. He hasn’t had a whole day off in weeks. Every one of my days looks exactly the same. Entertain the baby, sit outside while she plays in the cold chill, figure out how to keep everyone fed, wash and dry and fold laundry, pick up toys so no one trips . . . the monotony drains me.

But here’s the good news: everyone is healthy this week! Last week was a horror of sore throats and fevers.