Saturday, February 26, 2011

Saturday night.

Mmm-hmmmm.  Nearly moaned with the eye-rollin' goodness of Oprah eating fried chicken.  We are nothin' but action around here.  Nuthin' but action packed minute-to-minute goodness.

Our busy day of controlled chaos spiraled into a complete goat roap tonight.  

We had visitors this morning.  Two extra kiddos in the house . . . really good kiddos that showed up early with blankies to snuggle.  They plopped down in front of the TV with Moose & waited for my kids to amble out of the sack.  We made cinnamon rolls.  And drank cafe mocha.  And piddled the morning away.  Everyone woke in shifts.  It's a rare weekend when I have nuthin' on the calendar.  MOTH wasn't on call and had nuthin' on his calendar.  So we two responsible adults took six kids to the movie.  We schlepped our four young ones plus the middle and little J's to see Gnomeo & Juliet.  Fabulous movie.  Really fabulous.  Laugh out loud funny and peppered with adult humor that has me chuckling at recall, even now, nearly 12 hours later.  We consumed our body weight in popcorn, as I believe you should if you are spending $16.25 for a barrel of popped buttery goodness and two drinks.  All of us made it through the movie with no potty break.  That, I believe is truly the sign of a maturing family.  And, as an added bonus, no child got snapped in half by the cranky movie theatre chair. I'm still damaged from when that happened to Little . . . I could just hear a muffled "maaaa-maaaa" and see his flashing shoes sticking up from the jaws of theatre seating. 

We came home, all eight of us.  And the kids played a few dozen rounds of mancala for four.  Little tore into building a lego ship.  MOTH played babies with Mimi for a while.  Middle baked her first layer cake  . . and did a great job.  She's flying solo in the kitchen most the time.  Today, with the exception of some egg white drool and a small puddle of canola oil, she even cleaned up.  Darn fine cake, too.   I scanned a bunch of stuff, did some paperwork, packaged a garhugic order for delivery.   The J's left and my nuclear family gawked at each other for a while.  I decided on a flow yoga class.  I smuggled Big in with instructions on how to pass for a 13 year old.  She was a rock star through her first 'real' yoga class.  She didn't even bust a gut and laugh out load when the lady in front of her blew ass.    After yoga, we made the delivery and picked up dinner.  My kind of cooking.  Tough on the checkbook but yummy in the tummy.

This evening we spiraled completely out of control.  While putting some laundry away, I walked into a sibling wrestling match that rivaled the WWF.  Middle was videotaping it and making voice clips on her iPod to use as ring tones.  Big and Little were going at it full force and Mimi was cheerleading.  I gave the standard maternal warning, "don't come crying to me when you get hurt," and carried on.  Not long later, I heard a tiny voice singing "WHAM!" tunes, followed by some INXS and a little bit of showtunes from Dora's last digital CD.  Yep, this is my family.    Sometimes, I walk through my house and wonder what the hell happened.  The kids made a Barbie bungee out of rubber bands today.  They shot a Barbie up and over the rail so many times that now she's an amputee.   She's been repaired with hot pink duct tape so she can try to bungee off the trampoline and across the yard tomorrow.  Really?  Yes, really.  There are games out, puzzles half done, babies strung from hell to breakfast, stacks of books, shoes everywhere and at least one audiobook and one iPod playing most of the time. 

They are off to bed and I'm waiting for MOTH.  Mimi likes him better right now and he's reading and snuggling.  When this happened with Big, I felt a little jilted and hurt.  Now, I'm celebrating at the keyboard.  We're settling in for DVR'd TV tonight . . . . and that's a day in the life . . .

No comments: