Tonight

Tonight.

I get a call from my husband, "I'm coming home!"

5 minutes later, another call. "Two trauma's just rolled in."  He won't be home before bed.

As I'm walking from room to room, I am overcome.  Messes everywhere.  I pick up cars under the piano.  Go to the kitchen to tackle some dishes.  Then, I turn the corner, and there's my three-year-old.  With cars.  Scattered under the piano.

Questions are weighing on my mind.

Then, "Have you done your homework?"

"No."

"What have you been doing for the last half-hour?"

"Do kid's in first grade really have to do homework?"

"Yes.  If you don't do your homework, they will make you repeat that grade.  Do you really want to be in first grade again next year?"

"No," he mutters.

"So, go do your homework."

Time passes.  I cut the boys' hair.  They hate it.  And by it, I mean me.  Now hair is everywhere. But at least they don't look scraggly anymore.  The baby is crawling around in the just-cut hair.

Tub time. Jammies on. Put the baby to bed. Tackle the hair mess. And hit the boys room to bag up clothes that are too small.

Now, "I'm bored."

"Did you do your homework?"

"No."

"Eliza, did you do your homework."

"No."

"You two go do your homework!!!" It's already 8:30.  Bedtime.

I am going to scream.  But by some miracle I decide to go to my room.  I utter a little prayer, "Heavenly Father, please help me not to yell at my kids."  I stand up and make a concious decision to calm down and take a big breath.

I help Roger brush his teeth.  I gently tug the kids down the stairs.  We say prayers.  I tuck the kids in.  . . . Then, "Roger, did you use the potty yet?"

"No."

I help him out of bed, pull up his pants and tuck him in again.  I kiss the kids, pull out Eliza's laundry bin to start a load, then Roger asks for a drink.  And by ask I really mean he whines, "Mom, I need a drink!"  I go upstairs to retrieve the small paper cups I bought to remain in bathroom for such drink requests.  I fill his cup.  Give him the cup.

Then, "I hate this cup!  Too small.  I want a a big cup!"

Then, I loose it, "NO ROGER! You will use this cup or else I am walking out of the house and not coming back,"

Davis howls, "No, mom!"

I close the door and take another deep breath.  I come back in and take away the small cup.  I put it in the bathroom.  I turn off Eliza's lights.  Now Roger says, "I want that small cup!"  I take in the small cup and he takes a gulp.  Then he spills on himself.  "AHHHHH!  I'm wet!"  I turn on the light and change his shirt.  Inside I am cursing. A lot. I feel like slamming the door, but I don't.

I turn off the light and sit on the stairs in the hallway outside the kids' rooms.  I sternly lecture them about how I do everything in the house for them and all they do is just order me to do more.  I say it just like that.  Then, I'm quiet.

I feel bad.  They're just kids, for goodness sake.  I sing a primary song.  Then two.  Then a third and fourth.  I feel better.  I think they feel better.  I apologize and wish them goodnight. As I'm shutting the door, Davis says, "Mom, thank you for everything you do for us.  I love you."  Roger copies him.  Then Eliza pipes in with similar sentiments.

What a night.  Can I go to bed now?

No.  I still haven't finished the dishes.