Love in the time of motherhood

The following is based merely on hearsay.  Any resemblance to actual people or events real or imagined is strictly hypothetical.  I present three sets of:

Seven Quick Takes 

A.  Setting the Mood

1.  Wake up and grunt a goodbye to your husband, who's leaving for work.
2.  Rub eyes repeatedly.  

3.  Make food, feed kids food, have food, clean up after food.  Repeat three times.

4.  Run errands, make phone calls, answer emails, sweep floors, throw out trash, start to organize a closet then forget you were doing that because you went to use the bathroom facilities and found a popsicle left melting on the toilet and loudly summoned the possible offenders none of whom remember anything about the incident.
5.  Spout off nonsensical tirade in which you insist the popsicle has only one stick, is not ambulatory, and is incapable of hopping.  Settle for supervising a whine-laden session of floor scrubbing by the potential miscreants, at least one of whom is guilty.

6.  Grandly supervise while finishing third cup of coffee, go to kitchen to look at clock and gasp in dismay. Husband is in the driveway and there is a box of popsicles oozing sticky brightly-colored fluids on the floor in front of the wide-open freezer.  Realize toddler sitting in middle of mess is at least partly at fault.
7.  As you apply copious amounts of Bounty and organic cleaning spray, you realize there are male eyes watching you.  And you have no sons. 

B.  Determining the time

1.  With all kids dabbling halfheartedly at puddles of goo on kitchen floor, rummage in drawer and pull out a well-worn chart full of red and green baby stickers.

2.  8C?  Any K?  No K?  Consider other methods you've used to find out "where you are."  Did I take my temperature this morning?  Did I write it down?  Did I put it on the wrong day?  Did I use pen? Nope, that's sharpie... 

3.  Feel tired.  Look at letters and numbers and stickers.  Reflect on just reasons, generosity, selfishness, sanity, temporal society, eternal good, college tuitions, Humanae Vitae, Gaudium et Spes.
4.  Realize you have been humming, "Que sera, sera..." the entire time.
5.  End exquisite family planning exercise by stuffing chart back in drawer and stride into the kitchen to inspect the cleaning.  Shoes stick to floor.  

6. Initiate bedtime routine, warp speed.  Find favorite nightgown of preschooler.  Realize it is full of popsicle juice.  Handle tantrum of preschooler as you insist on a cleaner nightgown.  And a bath.  And brushing teeth.  No you can't eat the toothpaste.  No you can't have another snack.  Yes you need to go to bed.  Now.

7.  Realize, out of force of habit, you have donned an old t-shirt and stretchy pants.  Reflect on choice for half a second, shrug, think of mantra "what happens, happens" and continue uniting children with beds.

C.  The stars align

1.  Collapse onto couch, all quiet aside from the jazzy tunes of the weather channel.
2.  Swipe through I-phone.  Realize hubby is looking at you.

3.  Check just one Groupon deal real quick and then wander to bed

4.  Momentarily regret choice of wardrobe.  Realize you have some nicer things somewhere.  Realize this ultimately does not matter too much.

5.  Hear thud.  Hear preschooler wail.  Sigh, grab robe, help her back into bed, rub her back for a few moments till the sniffling quiets and return.

6.  Hear footsteps thudding down the stairs.  Hiss at older daughter through the door that you will be up to kill the tiny bug in just a few minutes really for goodness sake are you kidding me?!? 

7.  Forget about bug.  Fall asleep.  Awake to discover a popsicle was left in the bedside table drawer.

Because they walk by themselves, didn't you know?

"Count it all joy..." James 1:2

Linked to www.conversiondiary.com