This is what happens when your people won’t let you eat kill any more chickens.
You are forced to look wistfully at them, longing for better days.
Notice how I used the word, “more.” Mmmm-hmmm.
The school year is winding down and everyone is ready to be done. The kids are in this weird transition of wanting to be outside and do summer-ish things, and yet, we are still going to school every day. I wanted to give you a little glimpse into a typical “school night” for my house these days.
With longer days, David works longer hours and he is not home to enjoy “school nights.” Pity.
First of all, you need to know that Abbie, our new chicken-eating dog, has only been with us for about 2 weeks. You also should know that she has taken a fancy to pooping on the carpet. Because, of course!
Secondly, you should be aware that the boys have invested in ducklings.
Oh, they are delighted with themselves! They are sure these ducklings will make them RICH! They shall sell duck eggs and incubate duck eggs and sell ducklings . . . . they are quite proud. The ducks are currently living in a box under a heat lamp in my dining room. Be jealous.
Anyways. School nights.
We arrive home around 5:30pm. We walk in and are immediately hit with the disgusting smell of duckling poop in old straw that has been sitting under a heat lamp all day. Not pleasant. Everyone is hungry and cranky. After opening windows and lighting candles (because tulip scented duckling poop is better than regular duckling poop)I, start dinner and get everyone started on chores. The boys’ chores involve changing out the duckling straw and feeding pigs.
I must also inform you all that this day is unseasonably hot. So, in addition to the usual after school chaos, all the kids are changing into tank tops and shorts. The girls are bringing out lawn chairs and spraying on sunscreen. Because they fancy doing homework in the sun.
The boys put their ducklings in a tub of water outside.
The ducklings enjoy a pool party in the hot sun while the boys clean up their poo.
Lucky ducks. (See what I did there?)
Me: Boys! Where are you?
The boys emerge from the hay barn. The hay barn is in the opposite direction of the pig pens. They should be in the vicinity of the pigs, as they should be feeding pigs.
Boys: Mom! Can we throw all these eggs into the woods! The hen isn’t laying on them. She left them here for weeks!
Yes. Our chickens have figured out how to get out of their protective coop area. Everyone is too tired to care and/or fix it. So I guess we now have free range chickens.
Me: Fine. THEN FEED THE PIGS!
The rest of the evening turned to chaos. I felt like I was running around like a crazy person trying to get everyone through chores, dinner, lunch packing, and homework.
Feed the pigs!
Where are the ducklings?
Where is Abbie?
Girls, put away all beach blankets! It is a Thursday night at 7pm!
Why are you building a fire?! It is 80 degrees! FEED THE PIGS.
Where are the ducklings? You better make sure Abbie isn’t eating them!
GET THE DUCKLINGS BACK INSIDE!
After we *finally* get through all the outside chorin’, I move the children on to packing lunches and finishing up homework.
Daisy Mae needs help in math. I am a teacher. Seems reasonable that I should be able to help her, does it not?
“Mom, I need to find the lateral area of a cylinder.”
Friends. I tried to teach 1st graders how to add and subtract ten from a number today. I know not the mysterious ways of a cylinder, nor its lateral area. And judging by my students’ work today, it would appear that I also know not how to teach adding and subtracting tens.
Little Dude is never quite sure where his homework passport is, nor does he care. I usually must request for him to bring me his homework about 3 times an evening.
Handsome Dude, on the other hand, is extremely ANNOYING about getting his homework completed. He goes into a panic every evening and worries that I won’t sign his passport (I have never not signed it). He shoves his passport under the bathroom door to me when I am trying to use the facilities.
As I am signing his homework, I notice that I am supposed to send in his wax museum costume the next day.
We actually haven’t really gotten the costume figured out yet. I thought I had another week.
Me: Great! How can we make you look like President Andrew Jackson?
I look at the boy. He is wearing basketball shorts, has mud smeared on his glasses, and smells like a potpourri of animal poo.
Me: Go to your room and bring me any pants that aren’t jeans.
HD: I don’t know what “not jeans” are!
Me: Dark blue, khaki, or black pants.
HD: I don’t understand!
Me (showing him denim): Any pants that don’t look like this. And find a white button down shirt.
He brings up jeans and a gray short sleeve button down shirt. And I was too tired to care and that is what I sent him to school with.
Teacher/Parent for the win!
Stand down, readers. The wax museum truly isn’t for awhile. I am headed to the Goodwills this very day to try to find something a bit more Andrew Jackson-ish.
Little Dude is incubating chickens eggs on the counter. I need him to turn them in the incubator, but that would mean I have to find him first.
And do I ever know where Little Dude is? No. No, I do not.
No one wants to pack their lunch because all of our food is disgusting.
No one knows how to do the Pre-Algebra homework.
No one wants to listen to the ducklings “peep” anymore.
No one wants to pack their bags.
No one wants to clean up beach towels, sun screen, and lawn chairs.
No one wants to feed the pigs.
No one wants to gather the eggs. (The eggs for eating. Not the eggs for incubating. Keep up, people!)
No one wants to brush their teeth.
No one wants to go to bed.
School nights. We are over them.
Are you describing your home or mine?! Oh my! And I now teach 3rd grade but sitting down with my 4th grader to help him make up 4 missing math assignments just about killed both of us. He is extremely irresponsible and I teach in the school he attends and what people most think of that teacher’s kid. He doesn’t even start sentences with capitals and end with periods. I know he was taught to do this as I was his 2nd grade teacher but his great act of rebellion is to refuse to do it. Sigh. I just uncovered his research report folder and see that a rough draft is due tomorrow. So I sit him down to do it and ask him where he put his note cards. He says they are in his desk at school. Sigh. And the dog had diarrhea out both sides of her kennel 2 nights ago and 12 year old had a flip out over her Friday presentation that I have only just recovered from….and I sit here distracting myself with your tales while admist a pile of correcting and teacher manuals for planning. I FEEL you, sister!
When does school end? You need that date to get here in the worst way! I hope it’s sooner rather than later. Your tolerance for animal life is superior to mine : ) Hang in there!
It is so comforting to hear others share about these nights , we are in the same boat here! Hang in there, I am told , we will miss it one day!
Aaaaahhh, the joys of lengthening daylight hours!! I’ve never encountered the animal problems you have, but I remember trying to figure out my 5th grader’s “LEAF” problem in math. Yes, it was another way to do math, thought up by some suicidal person who just couldn’t imagine we parents had anything better to do. When I finally talked to the teacher, she said it didn’t really have to be done, it was just to show the children another way to do math. [scream of frustration]
Such fun! And I thought it was bad here with only one kid to look after. Oh, and since I last posted on here; probably over a year ago, I have added my mother to our mix. She is well advanced into dementia.
Just in January my daughter, age 10, was diagnosed with type one diabetes.
Oh, yes. Things are a bit strange.
Oh, and the dog just had 3 puppies this morning.
OK, I’ll try not to be jealous. 😉
Oh, I wish I knew how your summer was going, “Teller”, I miss your blogposts. BUT!! I am ALL for you doing stuff with your family and ignoring this blog!! Just wanted you to know I remember this blog address.