The Perfect Storm

Between the hours of four and five-thirty each evening, something strange happens in our house. Yours too? It's the time when the baby suddenly gets fussy and needs to be held. She must know that a higher elevation is the safest place for her to be for what is about to unfold. At the same time I'm holding the baby in one arm (or have her strapped to my belly in a front-pack), I'm preparing dinner. I'm chopping onions with sharp knives, frying foods in hot grease and boiling pots of steaming pasta! It's dangerous work. As if this wasn't enough, my older kids seem to find it the perfect time to gang up on their mother and declare war. Last night was the perfect example. Events beyond my control all seemed to converge and descend upon us all at once. The perfect storm:

Last night we had a delicious dinner of wild rice, marinated salmon, green peas and the sauce of red delicious apples. :) I try to have dinner ready by 5:00. 5:30 at the latest, because my kids start to gnaw on the table legs and declare that they "will just have to hold their tummy" if they don't get food immediately. Last night I wasn't fast enough, and they stole a box of fruit snacks from the cupboard and ate the entire box between themselves in Yaks' room. What in the world? Have they forgotten every rule, every consequence, and taken leave of every ounce of their senses!? Does hunger do this to children, or is it simply at the between the hours of four and five-thirty?

While I'm preparing dinner, I'm also surveying the main floor of our house, while watching the clock. I'm like something straight out of an Iron Chef competition. Josh likes a clean house. It's important to him. It's important to me too, but it's difficult to do, especially when there is only one of me, and three of them. Each day I try to plan it just right so that things are at least picked up on the main floor, so that when he comes in the door it doesn't look like a bomb just went off in this place. Last night after I got the kitchen looking presentable and the table set, I went around the corner to find every jigsaw puzzle in our cupboard...dumped...mixed...on the floor...the main floor. Yaks was the culprit. I came unglued and left Boo to tend to the baby, while I barked directions and helped with the sorting because picking up all the pieces by himself made him "too tired". Tell me about it, kiddo. The baby screamed for the full 25 minutes that it took me to "help" Yaks clean up the floor. I could feel my blood pressure soaring!

Although Yaks doesn't seem to have much skill in the sorting department, he's a pro at knot-tying! I can't wait until he's in Scouts. He'll ace those knot-tying requirements for sure!

At least once a day, I get to untie one of these beauties. Usually around 5:15pm or so.

I'm not sure why the soldier had to be tied up with that branch. Perhaps he was making a grappeling hook like Bear Grylls does! One night as I was tucking Yaks into bed he said, "Look, Mom" and he showed me this zipline he had made by using his knots and the string of his blinds that were tied to the tower of his toy castle. Then he took on of his soldiers and I watched as this plastic soldier hitched a ride from the top, down to the bottom in two seconds. It was really something....to undo!

As I was madly trying to pick up the house, untie the knots, calm the baby, keep dinner from burning, and most importantly, keep my cool, I noticed this cigarette-looking object on the floor next to the contents of our kitchen first-aid kit. It was something rolled up.

I unrolled it and found this message.

So true. So true.

I'm happy to report that after Dad arrived home and dinner was eaten ("This fish is cooked perfectly!"), the dishes were done (thanks, Josh!), the kids were happily in bed, and Josh was off to a meeting, I crawled into bed with the remainder of the freezer-burned ice cream and ate every...last...bite.

Another storm weathered, and all was right with the world.