Anne's Day in the Life: 17, 16, 12, 10, 9, 8, 8, 7, 5, & 5

This is my crew last summer--the day we said goodbye to Pixie as she headed off to college.

I actually have all 12 of my children home right now.

Rose Red is nearly 20, graduated from our homeschool a year and a half ago, lives at home, and is working as a server at Applebee's as she tries to understand what it means to be an adult.

Pixie is newly 18, graduated from our homeschool almost a year ago, is a dance major at BYUI, and is spending her off-track semester working full-time in the 1-year-old room at a daycare.

These two still are part of our family days, and their schedules directly impact the rest of us, but I am no longer responsible for their day-to-day educational needs.

The remaining 10 are still under my educational supervision.  Among these 10 children we are schooling while we cope with anxiety, depression, FASD, ADHD, DMDD, ODD, ASD, PTSD, and Intellectual Disability.

Here is a February Wednesday in our lives.

5:04 am:  Sir Walter Scott's alarm clock goes off.  Deeply affected by my anti-depressant medication, I am no longer out of bed before his alarm goes off.  Instead I burrow deeper into the covers for a few more minutes with my eyes closed before I force myself up and into the day.

5:46 am:  I wake with a jolt and fly out of bed to see if the teens got off to seminary.  But I forgot; today is late start, and they don't need to leave until 6:30 am.  I grab socks and a hoodie and head to the kitchen for a bowl of cold cereal to eat while I have my personal devotional time.

6:10 am:  Sir Walter Scott kisses me goodbye for the day as he heads downstairs to wake Pixie to take him to work (so she can use his car to go to her own job).  I'm still reading.

6:30 am:  Belle comes to the kitchen to grab cell phones for herself and Super Star and to get Super Star's morning med before they leave for seminary.  I've finished with my devotional and am scrolling through Facebook for posts about FASD.  It really helps me to count my blessings to read what other families are dealing with; I also offer sympathy and encouragement where I can.

6:38 am:  Pixie returns from dropping her dad off at work, and pokes around the kitchen for some breakfast.  I move laundry and unload the dishwasher while we chat about the day ahead.

7:06 am:  Oops!  I lost track of time, and I run to turn on bedroom lights, turn off white noise fans, and undo bedroom alarms.  I take Ladybug her clothes, but she's unresponsive under her covers, so I pull her door shut and turn her alarm back on, knowing that she'll wake and dress and wait until I come back to let her out of her room.

The next hour is a flurry of med adminstration, personal hygiene, chores, breakfast preparation, and pulling a prepped meal out of the freezer to go in the crock pot.

It is clear that Brother is anxious today and that he will have a hard time staying focused and keeping his temper.

8:15 am:  Everyone 12 and under gathers with me at the breakfast table.  We start our Morning Meeting (Prayer, scriptures, songs, memory verses, gratitude, and announcements).  The seminary students come home at 8:30 am to join in the discussion.

8:50 am:  Breakfast and Morning Meeting are over.  Teens and Tweens are dismissed to Individual Studies; kids ages 7-9 grab school books and study carrels and settle at the dining room table for their Individual Studies; the 5 year-olds go play in the living room.

For the next hour, I dole out Skittles for trying hard, for asking questions politely, for working quietly, and for moving from one subject to another.  I answer questions;  I have a reading lesson with Beowulf; I shoo the 5 year-olds back to the living room; and I send Brother to his room to calm down because he has a massive tantrum when I point out that his "5" is illegible and to please rewrite it.

He is not sent to his room until more than 10 minutes of trying to encourage him and direct any calming strategies completely fails.

I'm still in a state of constant gratitude that sending him to his room for some alone time works.  Two months ago, he'd have trashed his room and run away from home if I let him out of my line of sight.  He works very, very hard at employing the anger management and calming techniques he's been taught in therapy, and I'm grateful for a psychiatrist who recognizes that sometimes meds themselves are the culprits.  We're in a season of peace, and I'm grateful!

During this time my tweens have each had a turn on the computer to work on Duolingo.

9:30 am:  Our church grandma arrives.  She comes over on Wednesday mornings to read and listen and generally share her sweet spirit with our family.  Beowulf falls out of his chair trying to finish his last reading page so he can go see her.

This morning she has brought craft supplies, and she patiently oversees the kids' efforts to create.

9:50 am:  The teens come back to the table for Symposium.  We're reading The Odyssey.  I remind them that their compare/contrast essays on hospitality are due next Tuesday before settling down to read aloud while they sketch.  Ladybug and Mister Man are still at the table finishing their work, and Brother comes back, calm and thoughtful, to complete his math page. 

11:20 am:  I dismiss the teens to their Individual Studies.  As I grab lunch supplies, Rose Red catches me, needing badly to discuss her romantic relationship because it is coming to an end.  I listen and offer extremely limited advice, mostly in the form of, "It sounds like you already know the answer."

We thank and hug our church grandma good-bye when her husband comes to pick her up.

I prep a dozen sandwiches, slice up 8 or 9 pears, and thank Nature Angel for setting the table and distributing food to plates.

The young ones struggle to clean up because our church grandma changed the dynamic of the household, and returning to "normal" is hard on them.

Super Star drives Belle to the urban farm at which she volunteers for 3 hours each week.

photo credit

12:15 pm:  Rose Red comes to the kitchen in tears because she's just ended the very damaging relationship she had invested in for 8 months.  I hold her as she cries.

But she pulls herself together quickly saying, "I feel so broken, but I also feel free and light.  This is a good thing!"

I smile and say, "Yes."

12:30 pm:  We finally gather for lunch.  For Academy, I pull up several bird calls for birds native to our area, and as I play them the kids call out the songs they recognize.

We howl with laughter when Beowulf enthusiastically identifies a Song Sparrow as "Singing Pharaoh!"

Then I read aloud from The Song of the Cardinal by Gene Stratton-Porter.  We finish the book, and the kids moan because it has been a fabulous read aloud for us.  We talk about our favorite parts of the book and the scenes we will remember best.

1:15 pm:  It's quiet time for the youngest 6, and I settle into Colloquium with my tweens; we're almost finished with our Greek Mythology study.

2:00 pm:  I call the littlest ones off quiet time early for Jr. Kindergarten.  They happily do their recitation and settle into counting and alphabet worksheets.  When they're done, we read Charlie Needs a Cloak, and then it's time to get everyone off quiet time.

2:30 pm:  I pop a couple batches of popcorn and pass out a serving to every kid who goes potty, washes hands, and puts on shoes and a coat or jacket to play outside.

Nature Angel and Little Princess work on math, and when Little Princess finishes, I help her order pictures for scrapbooking.  She's smart; she's put all of the pictures she wants (93!) in a single file, so uploading is easy.

Super Star picks Belle up from the farm.

3:15 pm:  I join the young ones outside.  They're finishing their popcorn, shooting hoops, playing with the wagon, and riding scooters.  I find a can of primer and get to work painting the pallet that Nature Angel and I are converting into a rustic planter for our deck this spring.

3:30 pm:  The kids notice what I'm doing and ask to get their tool boxes out.  I give permission, and soon the garage is ringing with the sounds of half a dozen hammers on nails and half a dozen kids conferring about how to build this, that, and the other.  Nature Angel comes out and takes over priming the pallet.

4:00 pm:  So far 2 kids have bashed their thumbs with hammers, and the 5 year olds are inside playing under Little Princess's supervision as she reads Princess of the Midnight Ball.

 I've helped Nature Angel clean the paint brush and put away the can of primer, and she's building something interesting.  I ask if she's okay supervising the kids while I go inside to do chores, make dinner, and be chief of ice.

2 more smashed thumbs follow in short order.

Good thing I'm chief of ice!

I move laundry, do dishes, scrub toilets, scrub the kitchen sink, and clean out the silverware drawer.

5:05 pm:  Super Star yells, "Bye, Mom!" as she heads out the door for her IOP session.  I call to her to report on what schoolwork she's gotten done, but the answer isn't satisfactory.  We're going to have to have an accountability meeting this weekend.

I also treat 2 more smashed thumbs, debone the chicken for our African Chicken Stew, and start the rice cooking.

5:33 pm:  I call the kids to clean up for dinner.

They ignore me.

I supervise.

They throw some tantrums.

But they also clean up.

6:05 pm:  We settle at the table for dinner.

All except Brother who is in his bedroom calming down again.  He's been having little muscle twitches in his eye, and they have bothered him all day, so he is simply out of energy to stay calm under any but ideal circumstances.

6:30 pm:  We have family prayer--Brother has successfully rejoined us--and bigger kids start their after dinner chores while I try to get the 5-year-olds to eat enough bites of dinner so that they can sleep comfortably all night.

Baymax throws up.

Oops.

6:55 pm:  I start passing out bedtime meds.  Ladybug is aching for a confrontation.  We get through her shower, but she falls apart when I insist on lotion for her dry skin.   I try to back down and be easy-going through the rest of her bedtime routine, but she's having none of it, and she yells, flops around, tries to start arguments, jumps on her bed, throws blankets, and screams until I am successful at choosing a consequence that convinces her cooperation is her best choice.

7:20 pm:  Belle has successfully gotten the rest of the kids ready for bed, and after I finish with bedtime meds, I'm about to pick up with chapter 6 of Great Illustrated Classics: The Adventures of Robin Hood when Belle shows up with an Usborne illustrated abridgement of A Midsummer Night's Dream that she's promised to read to the kids.

I bow out of the way and enjoy an unusual moment of quiet time for extra personal hygiene (i.e. I brushed and flossed my teeth more carefully than usual).

7:40 pm:  It's time for lots of prayers and songs and tucking in and setting of door alarms.

I check with Belle, "Have you finished an Algebra lesson today?  No?  Then you need to have one completed before you go to bed tonight."

She complies.

7:55 pm:   I return to the living room to read aloud from Carry On, Mr. Bowditch with the medium-sized kids.

8:30 pm:  More songs, prayers, and tucking in.

Sir Walter Scott and Pixie will be home in half an hour or so, but I'm too tired to wait up.  Super Star should have been home from her IOP, but she's texted me to let me know she's staying late.  I fall into bed (with clean teeth!), and even though Rose Red checks in to say she's going into work, I'm still asleep before my husband and older daughters get home.

The good thing is I can trust Sir Walter Scott to check that the teens have docked their phones in the kitchen before he goes to bed.

After a couple years' absence, I'm linking here.