6:30 a.m.: Husband says: "Dear, it's time for you to shower."
"No. You shower first."
"No, you need to shower first so you're ready when Babygirl wakes up."
Ack. I shower and get ready for church. I'm tired. For some reason, I was up late watching "The Planet of the Apes" last night. What's wrong with me?
9:30 a.m.: We're at church. The twins have gone to sit with friends in the second row. I'm in the second to last row with YoungestBoy and Babygirl. Babygirl wastes no time in pulling all the little cards and pencils from the backs of the pews. YoungestBoy lays on his stomach and kicks the pew.
9:45 a.m.: Church starts. Babygirl likes the music and is distracted. A friend and her 11 month old baby sits next to us. Her baby "sings" during all the music. How cute!
10:15 a.m.: Babygirl paws at my dress. I take her downstairs and find a private place to nurse her. The children are all heading to their classes, too. I find a the World's Most Uncomfortable Recliner to sit in and nurse the baby. She falls right asleep. I sit with my neck crooked forward, trying to imagine who designed this pain-in-the-neck chair. Perhaps a chiropractor?
11:00 a.m.: Church ends. I jostle Babygirl awake and she cries. Darling little tears run down her cheeks. I pick up YoungestBoy while the boys head to the game room to play pool and air hockey. YoungestBoy makes a bee-line for the birthday cake--our church is celebrating the 80th birthday of a set of twins in our church. YoungestBoy has two pieces of cake. I attempt to give Babygirl bites of finger sandwiches, but she spits it all out. I discover that she hates cream-cheese frosting.
11:30 a.m.: We leave church. My husband, of course, stays behind. I take the children through the Wendy's drive-through because Wendy's has baked potatoes and that's exactly what I want. Only I forget and just order fries for everyone.
12:30 p.m.: Husband returns home.
12:45 p.m.: After a change of clothes, he takes Babygirl for a walk. The sun is shining though the air is a little chilly. It's a lovely day. When they leave, I go upstairs to change clothes. I want to get the flowerbed weeded before the rain returns. I become completely distracted by the state of my closet and begin cleaning it out.
1:45 p.m.: Husband returns with sleeping Babygirl. I put new film in the camera and take half a dozen pictures of her slumped over in her stroller, sleeping. Husband (God bless him) volunteers to sit on the porch and watch her while she sleeps so I can finish my project.
2:45 p.m.: Baby wakes. My closet is clean. Babygirl's clothes are sorted through, too, and the tiny sundresses are packed away. He brings Babygirl upstairs and she takes one look at me and bursts into angry tears. Husband leaves.
2:45 to 3:15 p.m.: Apparently, Babygirl has developed a sudden brain tumor. Or multiple personalities. Or a raging case of PMS. She screams if I hold her and struggles to get down. I place her on the floor and she stomps her feet and screams louder. Tears pour down her face. She wails as if an alien is about to burst out of her abdomen. After about fifteen minutes ("You want to go downstairs?" "You want a drink?" "You want a cracker?" "Shall we go outside?") of continuous fit-throwing, I figure out she's not ill. She's just pissed off.
I put her down and turn on a Wiggles videotape. She gets distracted for a few moments at a time and stops screaming. Eventually, the fit eases and she toddles off to find Mr. Potato-Head. Sigh.
3:15 to 5 p.m.: I play with Babygirl. The kids play with the each other. They play with Babygirl. I keep offering her food, but she doesn't want to eat. One molar has broken through, three more lurk right beneath the surface.
5 p.m.: Bathtime!
5:30 p.m.: Downstairs. The boys are going through the bath, one by one. The older boys made soup for themselves for dinner. I make YoungestBoy whole-wheat waffles with peanut-butter and syrup.
7:00 p.m.: I put new lightbulbs in two light fixtures in the yard. I love it when I actually accomplish something in a day.
7:30 p.m.: Babygirl goes to sleep!
8:00 p.m.: I clean up the kitchen. Fold laundry, move a load from washer to dryer. Put a new load in washer. Pick up living room. Husband comes home to find me on the computer. I can tell he thinks I've been doing nothing.
8:30 p.m.: Kids go to bed.
9:00 p.m.: Time to watch Alias!
Another Day of Rest completed!