Homeschooling- For Trill

It is 3:00am. Esther has decided that sleep is for the weak-minded. I try to explain to her that I would like to fall into that category for just today. She cares not. She starts singing the theme song to Star Wars (as far as we know) at the top of her lungs. I fear that the young padawans still in their beds will hear her and decide that they, too, despise sleep. I bring the Queen of the House downstairs and place her in her throne. As I stumble around the kitchen, looking for something that resembles a coffee maker, a thought occurs to me: ...

Nope. Nevermind. No thought. I need brain cells to have a thought. I just stand there, in front of the sink, blinking.

 

Ok. On with my day. The children descend upon our living quarters sometime after 5:00am, but definitely before 6:00am...because I told them that they had to remain in their beds until 7:00a, that's why!

I decide that fighting with them about staying in their beds for one more hour is really not worth it, since I have been awake with the Hot Mess for about 3 hours now and I am ready for lunch.

I make a mental note to be more firm about them staying in their beds until 7a, starting tomorrow.

 

After their usual breakfast of everythingbutthekitchensink, I have the children do something that I like to call "get ready for the day". I start with a gentle reminder.

 "Ok friends! It's time to get ready for the day!"

The four oldest feign understanding and run up the stairs. Esther, needing to be different, starts crying for more food. It has been precisely four minutes since our last feeding.

 

I take a swig of the coffee I made at 3a with Queenie and realize that coffee should be reheated probably one time less than has occured with this particular mug of mine. I wish I could remember how many times that was this morning. I lost count at four.

I have given the children a considerable amount of time to wash their faces and hands, brush their teeth and get dressed. I am ready to go upstairs and assess the troops. On the top step, in the upstairs hallway, I step on a toothbrush. WHAT THE?

"Whose toothbrush is in the hallway?" I yell, to (apparantly) no one in particular.

The upstairs is a Ghost Town, bathroom water running and toothpaste cookies on the sink. I hear faint giggling coming from the gentlemen's bedroom. I open the door and a pair of Batman underwear hit me between the eyes. Giggling. Nay, guffawing! My offspring are laughing at me! 2 out of the 3 boys are naked. The third is still in pjs...but they are wet...from the bath he tried to take in the sink while he was supposed to be brushing. The next ten minutes are chaos as I try to tackle and stuff the boys into any type of cloth covering I can find. I have to change Nathan again because I put him into another pair of pajamas the first time around. (Be kind. Let's not forget my waking time, k?)

I send the boys downstairs.

 

I am disheveled and exhausted and I start to softly cry as I walk into Sarah's room. The sun is streaming in through the window and reflecting off her golden hair as she, completely dressed in appropriate clothing, is teaching her dolly to pray the Morning Offering.

*Sigh*

I take two steps into her room, in a trance, and trip over the fire hazard on the floor. I remind her that I would really like her to clean up her room sometime today.

She reminds me that I remind her EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I send Sarah downstairs.

 

Nurse Esther again because...why not?

 

Tom and Nate disappear into the playroom as I gather the older children's books at the dining room table. Joseph starts the school day by stabbing his hand with a pencil.

 "It wasn't this sharp yesterday!" he cries, on his way to the bathroom.

Sarah does her independent work first. Handwriting, reading, phonics...it is practically everything.

I nurse Esther.

 

Joseph comes back to the table with a clean bandage and resolves not to play with the sharp pencils anymore. He begins his math, the only subject he likes. He tells me he will only do math today.

One hour later, I tell Joseph to leave the table and take a break. He cries. He wants to do more math. His book is not finished yet, he says.

I nurse Esther.

 

Sarah asks if we can have lunch. It is not yet 8am.

I make snacks.

I read Catechism to the four children as they "quietly" eat their second breakfast.

It is a beautiful moment.

I nurse Esther.

 

The two littles go play again.

Sarah and Joseph do school until lunch.

I nurse Esther.

 

After lunch, we pray our rosary. This should be an Olympic event.

Seriously.

 

After rosary, we school a little bit more and I wait for the sign from Sarah that the school day is over.

Sarah starts crying for no reason.

Done!

I excuse them to go join their friends in the playroom downstairs.

I nurse Esther.
I will do better tomorrow.
After I have had more sleep.