Busy Days Make Bleary Nights

While I can’t say this day started out strong, I can say it ended well. It began with the kids rising half an hour too early, their morning riding lesson being switched to 4pm due the instructor’s migraine, and this mama making her kids pick up all the shreds of yesterday’s water balloon fight before she’d make them breakfast. For this, I was accused of not taking good care of my children… by my children.

It progressed to fast moving thunderstorms outside, me finding a random chicken egg freshly lain on the ground in the chicken run, and my big mouth fussing at the flock, calling them the only bird insult I could think of. “You all are acting like a bunch of QUAIL!”



I will never have quail again. They stink worse than pigs, drop their eggs wherever they are standing, and have Skittles for brains. Never again. 


So, I called the love of my life to check in with him, and out of this moment. Also because our longest and least interrupted conversations seem to be over the phone.  He was sitting on 495 outside DC, heading to Fairfax, so I knew I had a captive audience. However, after 1/2 a mug of coffee, nature called on the other line and I had to take that one.

The bathroom door was closed and there was only silence. I knock, and Girlchild informed me as to the reason for the delay- she had dressed as a cowgirl for her riding lesson this morning, and has not yet mastered her belt buckle all that well. Bathroom breaks now take double the amount of time for her little fingers. I help secure the pink sparkly belt,slide past her, and sit down. Not half a second later Manchild barrels into the room declaring he has his own personal emergency  and it’s either get up or clean up. I prefer the former.  Manchild plops down, life trots on a bit, then I get him re-snapped and back out the door.

By this time Girlchild has left the building, and wandered around from the backyard to the front of the house. As I relax again in the bathroom I hear a knock at the front door. Darn it! I wait, and hear several more knocks in various patterns. The kids think they are clever. Manchild and Girlchild both begin calling to me. With no answer the knocking increases, along with yelling for me to come open the door. I yell back as to my exact location, and wonder what the neighbors think.

After 5 minutes of knocking, yelling, and begging to be let in the front door while the back door is wide open and ripe for the picking, Girlchild takes her life in her hands and strolls into the bathroom (privacy is rarer than diamonds ’round this joint). “Hey Mom, who was at the front door?” She asks smugly.

Heaven help her, she is not too big to fit in a basket and set on the front steps of the nearest church! The one with the little playground I never let her play at.

We opt to go on a surprise adventure to keep us all in public and on our best behavior ( witnesses, lots of witnesses) so I take them pottery painting. Each child selects a ceramic shape (horse for my cowgirl, convertible for mini-man), and cover it in color and enthusiasm. Then we find the puffy paints. Repeat.



   He likes green.

After we get home we check on yesterdays massive surprise. WE HAVE BABY BUNNIES!!!! Yes, the 2 parents I swore couldn’t procreate actually did and I’m just really bad at animal husbandry! Oh well, so what. There are 4 of them, and they are darling. According to my favorite teacher the Internet, I have 1 buck and 3 tiny does. Their ears are the size of lima beans! Two gray like daddy, 2 black and white like momma. I am SO excited. Girlchild was excited for an hour. Then went back to being Girlchild. She’s a tough crowd.

Fast forward to the actual riding lesson, and I could not have been any prouder of Girlchild on that horse. Both kids are doing a great job learning horsemanship. But watching my equine crazed daughter stand up in the stirrups, arms out, as her instructor lunges the horse in circles was great. I had been wanting her to learn more balance, and she was knocking these exercises out of the park. It was fantastic to see my 6y old become so strong.

Now it’s an hour after the kids bedtime, Captain Schenanigans is a worship rehearsal at church (yes, I’m with the drummer) and I’m up to my eyeballs in allergy medicine and Korma scented dishes. Time to bust out my latest fiction novel Charlie St. Cloud, and call it a night. Don’t judge me, I know my limits, and this time alone is an investment in domestic harmony for all who live here. Good night my faithful readers, sleep tight. And just remember, never own quail!


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