A Day

A few months ago, I got a great email from my sister-in-law about her day. She was writing it all down so that in 20 years when her kids were out of the house and she looked back and wondered why she didn’t write in her journal, scrapbook every milestone, or have a blog of her very own, she would know why. It was one of the best emails I had read in a LONG time, and I think about it often as I run through my day without taking the time to record what I’m doing.

But then I get to the end of my year and want, no, NEED to look back on my year so I can try to learn from the stupid stuff (there’s plenty of that) and be reminded of the GREAT stuff (because there’s plenty of that stuff too).

It is with a smile and a sigh that I sit down to write this short bit of my day so I can look back and really understand why I am sometimes unable to do all the things I really do have a desire to get done. This post is specifically for me, and me alone. Skim if you’d like, read if you dare. But just know that this is a little reminder to Future Sarah that sometimes, things just don’t go as planned.

Sarah, Wednesday, January 16th 2013 went a little like this:

You woke up with Baby Mett  for the fourth time at 5 am. You had also been up with Ollibueno (3) once because you had locked the bathroom door to keep the dog out of there at night while you slept, and he needed to go to the bathroom. You have 5 chicks in the bathtub in a box and a heat lamp to keep them alive during this freak cold snap we’ve been having this past week. It was 12 degrees last night. TWELVE. Like, not even a teenager yet twelve. It’s freaky to go outside and break ice on the water every morning for all the animals.

Anyway, up with Baby Mett who was stinky and needed to be changed before he was fed, and by the time he was back in bed it was 5:40. Since Gila Man was going to be up in five minutes anyway, I figured I might as well make breakfast for him, plus he was jealous of the fresh orange juice I was going to make for the boys, so I made him a glass of pineapple/orange juice. I must say, it was yummy. After making ham and egg mcmuffins, we sat down for a minute to talk. Like literally a minute. It was nice. Then he had to go to work and you started to clean up the kitchen and make yourself something to eat.

You tried to read your scriptures and get ready for the day, and ended up in the spare room trying to organize it and loosing track of time. The boys woke up and Ollibueno went back into your bathroom to make a mess use the restroom, it’s cute the way he tries to clean up after himself, but it’s still another mess to clean up before Baby Mett crawls in to make it worse.

Ollibueno goes out back in the fa-REEZING weather to see the ice on the water, Mr. B (8) follows him, and together they break every bit of ice they can, laughing with glee and steamy breath as they do it.

Baby Mett is crying to be fed, and I can hear the goats crying next to the house for unfrozen water.

I feed and change the baby and come back out to the living room to find that Mia, the German Shepherd dog that my husband we rescued has chewed through Fritz’s dog bed and has spread the little foam pieces throughout the living room.

You lock Mia out so you can clean up.

The boys are hungry and one of them turns on the juicer and starts putting whole, unpeeled oranges in it. You stop cleaning up the foam to help with the juicer. Mia is constantly jumping up on the back door with a small bark, a whine and a scratching sound on the frame.

The chicks in the bathroom are peeping to be fed.

You start a batch of cinnamon toast from the loaf of bread you made, then hear a piercing squawk from the back yard, and look out to see one of your chickens in Mia’s mouth. Mr. B jumped through the doggy door and grabbed her, but then didn’t know what to do. You unlocked the sliding glass door and yelled at Mia to drop it, but she wouldn’t let go, so you had to pry her off the chicken and lock her in the house. You bring the chicken (who by some miracle seems to be ok) back to the coop, and decide to grab all the waterers to break the ice and refill them with fresh water.

Inside, Baby Mett has crawled through the foam pieces and spread them out even further, while Mia rolls around in them and walks into the kitchen to shake them off. You kick Mia out again. Bark. Whine. Scratch.

As the waterers thaw, you peel the oranges, put butter on the toast, peel the mango and slice the pineapple.

Peep peep peep. The chicks want their corn.

Put the food on the table, juice the fruit. Hold the baby.

Bark. Whine. Scratch.

Finish the juice, put it on the table.

Thaw the ice, fill the waterers.

Put the baby down and bring them outside to the chickens/chicks/quail.

Go get the goat water bucket and are unable to break the ice.

Bring it inside to thaw and add fresh water.

Feed goats hay and put the Momma goat up to feed her grain. Walk down and finish feeding and watering chickens, walk back up to let Momma back in the pan.

Go inside to find Baby Mett with a piece of foam in his mouth and actually, all over him.

Bark. Whine. Scratch.

Peep peep peep.

Take the dog bed out front to see if you can sew it back together, come inside to take a phone call. It’s the hospital saying that your Emergency Room visit right before Christmas claim is being denied and that we owe $9,886.25. Would you like to set up a payment plan?

 

And, Sarah, it’s not. even. ten. o’clock.

So, as you look around your disaster area living room and kitchen, with my happy, well-fed kids, and critters galore, knowing that all your well-laid plans for the day have just been tossed out the doggy door, you kinda laugh and you come in the spare room and sit at the computer and write this post.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not mad or upset or even having a bad day. It could be worse. LOTS worse. But I really need to remember all these little things when I look back and say “what the heck did I do all day?”. Because lets face it, these things can be forgotten so, so easily!

But now you have to go, because Ollibueno is having some plumbing issues of the stinky kind. TMI? Oh, no. This is how we really roll!!

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