Spring time in this family makes for busy weekends. Sports and the end of the school year closing in, means that all of our time is spent on the go. So imagine my surprise when I wake to torrential rain on a Saturday morning. A day that is supposed to be spent on the soccer and baseball fields is now a free day. At first I was over joyed. What in the heck was I thinking?
What was once a relaxing day at home, is now a day cooped up with a bunch of incredibly bored children. I mean sure, it started out okay. Then sometime around breakfast the wheels started coming off. As soon as I announced that today would be family lazy day, cheers could be heard from all over the house.
You see, they know what family lazy day means. You don’t even have to get dressed if you don’t want, pajamas are perfectly acceptable on lazy day. Beds don’t even get made on lazy day. I know what you are thinking, I ALWAYS make the beds. But on these rare days when I decide not to make them, I try to think of it as cheap therapy. I like to test my will. I walk into each room, one by one, and stare the beds down, then turn and walk out. I like to tell myself that my ability to walk out with the beds still unmade proves that I am not actually as uptight as everyone believes. But I guess just the fact that I have to go acknowledge each unmade bed proves instead, that I am in fact unbalanced.
SO after I fought the good fight with the beds, it was time to relax. You see, in order to get to relax in a sea of four kids, you actually have to announce “I AM GOING TO RELAX NOW, OKAY???” It is like you are warning everyone, including yourself what is about to go down.
Instead of throwing in a load of laundry or doing anything productive, I grabbed the TV remote and plopped down in the recliner. Woo hoo! Lazy day! It was still pouring rain outside, this was going to be perfect. I searched through my often times neglected DVR and made my selection. I had my hot cup of coffee, my Santa Claus blanket and my iPad, No one was going to pry me out of this chair for hours.
Since breakfast wrapped up, my kids were actually able to entertain themselves…….for all of about 20 minutes. The first to wander in was the baby. Aww look at that sweet face. He just wants to sit with his mama. Okay little man, come get under my warm blanket. Let’s watch some TV.
This is not my first rodeo. I have been a mother long enough to know that before long, the other three will catch wind that the baby is missing. Then they will begin to wonder just what special treat or privilege he is getting, and they will come to find out for themselves. With kids there is a constant competition of I want that because he had one and why do you love her more than me. Sure enough in walks kid number two.
He too wants to sit in the recliner. I can’t say no, that just wouldn’t be fair. So now I have one in my lap and one on the arm of the chair. This is still pretty manageable. I can still kind of hear the television. That is until kid two puts his foot on kid one. Kid one throws his foot off. Kid two puts it back on kid one, this time proving it was no accident. Kid one whines that his brother won’t leave him alone. I tell kid two that he is about to be ejected from the chair of serenity if he is not careful. Unable to control his impulse to harass his brother, he once again puts his foot on his leg. Kid one decides he has to defend himself by any means necessary. Now I have two kids, wrapped around my head, engaged in a wrestling match.
Both children are ejected from the chair. Both kids plead for one more chance. I am easy, and I just want the talking to stop, so I give in to their lies. I am hoping for five quiet minutes of relaxing, mindless television. Four minutes later, in walks kid three.
Kid three cries that there is no where for him to sit. I tell all three that they should just go sit on the couch. All three give me those puppy dog eyes that always work on me. Now I have three kids in my chair, one in my lap and two on the chair arms. How much can one family ask of a recliner?
By now I am squished, hot and one arm is numb. I am so torn because I know that one day soon enough, no one will want to sit in my lap. One day they will all be too big. I realize that these precious moments are more important than some silly television show. I will just sit here and try to appreciate this special time. In walks child number four.
Child four is the oldest, the biggest and the roughest. She does not ask to sit with us. She does not need permission. She is the first-born after all. By the time I look into her eyes and see what she is thinking, it is too late. She takes a flying leap right on top of us all. The split second before she lands, I m trying to figure out whose nose is about to be busted. Surely not mine, I am buried under all these kids.
She hits with such force, that the chair actually tilts backwards. Luckily the amount of weight in the chair keeps it from actually flipping over. This is where all of the melee begins. (Do you know the definition of melee? Melee: a confused hand to hand fight or struggle involving several people. I am pretty sure my kids’ picture is in the dictionary next to the word.)
There are kids screaming and kids crying. People are injured and demanding that she be removed from not only the chair, but the family as well. I am pretty sure I have a collapsed lung. Or maybe it is just bruised. I am no doctor. I decided that I am done.
I am injured, defeated and I don’t have a clue what was happening on my show. They can have the chair. They can have the TV. They can have the whole room. I am going somewhere that I can be alone. Somewhere they will never find me. A place so secret that I am pretty sure they don’t even know of its existence.
I am going to the laundry room to do some laundry. Now THAT is relaxing.
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