- Walked 2 miles,
- Hosted and Conducted Presidency Meeting,
- Rehearsed Cotton Eyed Joe,
- Taught Medevil Europe and corresponding folk dances,
- Rehearsed Bridging Ceremony for tomorrow's graduation ceremony,
- Signed shirts for a mob of 1-3rd graders who mistook me for a rock star,
- listened intently and individually to over 25 older students as they described their Imaginary Island in painstaking details, down to forms of government and languages,
- Grocery Shopped,
- Bandaged several wounds
- Cooked Dinner,
- Proof read a child's report,
- Made a birthday gift for a teacher,
- Watched Hula Hoop tricks,
- Made garlic and jalapeno burgers and corn on the cob,
- Laundered 2 Batches clothing ,
- Made 2 loaves Rosemary Artisan Bread, 1 Batch Pretzel Turtles, 1 batch Marshmallow Fudge with Pecans and 1 without, and 24 Cinnamon Rolls...
My nose is starting to run, my eyes are heavy and drippy. Some children are feeling the antsy entitlement from the end of the year. They are fussing, slow and pokey, and yelling and rude. The sweet husband glared and banged through the house and dinner. And though he said he's not mad at me, I know there is a bit of him that blames the bucket of screws dumped out on the lawn just before he mows on a lack of mother care. He left... early tonight... 6:00. Finally Ladybug said she's sick to death of the way I talk to her. It's too nice and makes her feel like a child and she's a young woman. Ever obliging, my voice raised, then hers matched. Mine upped, hers matched. She earned some quiet think time. I trudged downstairs to rub lotion on her body and watch her wash her face and tidy her bathroom. I heard giggles as I started up the stairs. A tired chide started to form on my lips but I was too late. My two youngest grabbed each of my hands and sat me down in a seat with 5 pillows puffed for comfort. Placing one of my feet on each pillow, Little Mother began slipping and sliding her hands over my dirty feet and legs. With un-age appropriate strength, Sunshine began to knead my shoulders and neck, rubbing my double layers into my skin till the irritation resembled a serious sunburn. "You've had a tough day and have done it all for us." They announced. "You need some relaxation." They argued over who had the funner job then switched so the other could watch Mom's funny faces, chirps, and jumps. After a half hour of my spa treatment, they decided I needed a child to squish and hold while the other rubbed knots out of my neck. When I heard my blonde bespeckled baby start to snore in my arms I insisted for the 4th time that all my pampering had to come to an end.
All are tucked in bed. The nauseating and allergic smell of cotton blossoms hangs about me. But it's been a good smell. Briz will come home sometime in the early hours of the morning. He may wonder about the greasy stains in the carpet and on the designer pillows where my slippery feet sat, absorbing at least 1 cup of lotion drawings, including a love note in lotion. I may get another glare, but I chose the stains, the stink and the raw and sore neck I now possess. They made me happy.