Superhero, Super Awesome

I try. I really, really do. However, the more I try, the more it becomes apparent that “Super Mom” I am not. I could have really used some super powers last night too.

The kids and I arrived home from swim practice at 6:30. We needed to hit the ground running so to speak. We had a lot to do and a short amount of time to get it done.

Griffin normally has religion class on Wednesday evenings, but I allowed him to miss. Initially he told me he didn’t feel good after school. However, after resting in the truck on the way to swim I determined he had a bad case of tireditis. Because, remarkably he felt better after resting. With three tests to prepare for though, I thought we might have a relapse of this terrible disease and opted just to bring him home.

Ruthie had her own test to study for in Social Studies. This is one subject that she really needs to work on to bring her grade up.

And Owen? Yes. I was sure he had something too. I just hadn’t looked yet.

While, the older two are pretty self-sufficient they do occasionally need help reviewing. Regardless, this was shaping up to be a fun evening. Oh, and did I mention it’s harvest? If your not married to a farmer this may mean absolutely nothing to you, so I’ll clue you in. I will see very little of my spouse.

As we arrived home, I sent all three kids outside to do chores. At our house, this consists of feeding the rabbits, dog, and chickens, and collecting the eggs, of course. This gave me an opportunity to finish supper before the circus started. I had cooked and deboned a chicken prior to swim practice. And just like clock work, I had chicken noodle soup ready just as three little people reemerged. Maybe I was hiding a superhero cape after all.

With full bellies, we all began to divide and tackle. And then it began. My well thought out, organized evening started to unravel.

As I attempted to sign the kids up for a swim meet online, Griffin needed help logging in to a website. A website that he has had the login information to since the third week of school. Yet, he has waited until the night before a test to attempt to access it. At the same time Ruthie wanted help practicing her lines for the Christmas program. Yes, I said Christmas. This despite the fact that she’s yet to study for her Social Studies test. And, Owen. Well, he sat down at the bar in the middle of this circus act and began reading aloud.

Oh. My. Word.

I sent Ruthie to her room. Much to her dismay, I told her she could focus on her Christmas lines later and that she should study for her Social Studies test now. And as luck would have it, I was able to dust off my superhero cape, and log Griffin into the website he needed.

“How did you do that?”

“I am awesome.”

Because periodically you have to tell yourself this.

I plopped myself down at the bar as Owen was still reading aloud. I told him he did a beautiful job. And then it happened. I opened his folder, and discovered Flat Francis. We’ve all heard of Flat Stanley, right? This is the same concept. Only I’m supposed to take his picture with the Pope, e-mail the picture to his teacher, and return Flat Francis to school tomorrow.  My son has showered and is sitting in his underpants!

With a quick addition of some PJ’s and and one grainy photo later,

image

that portion of the homework was done.

As both Griffin and Ruthie threw review sheets at me, we stopped and prayed over our Flat Pope. And I pray he made it back into the backpack.

With a Social Studies test studied for, Ruthie was FINALLY able to practice those Christmas lines she was dying to practice. Thank goodness.

I was starting to see an end in sight. Everyone had showered. I was beginning to send kids to bed. As I tucked Owen in I discovered 4 library books that I knew nothing about. They were overdue. By a month. We are awesome. Because periodically you have to tell yourself this.

All that remained was one test to study for. I could do this. Bring on volleyball.

“Griffin, what year was volleyball invented?”

“1980”

Alright. I’ll admit, I don’t know what year volleyball was invented, but I do know it wasn’t 1980!

I’ll attempt to dust off my very tattered cape for whatever else life brings.

Only At My House,

Jana

 

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