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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


A week to make me weak.

Last week was one of those weeks that happened and now I’m looking back wondering WHY? How? What THE?!!

First, I hung out the laundry, ran around town picking up kids and when I got home after dark I was too tired to get the dumb laundry off the line. In the wee hours of the morning I heard the boom of thunder. I laid in my warm dry bed saying to myself, “You are an idiot, of course it will rain if you leave the laundry out on the line. Stupid, stupid, stupid woman!” It rained all morning and those clothes hung out there through it. I guess you could say they got an extra rinse cycle.

Friday, my older kids had the day off of school. I was trying to make them clean the house. Why do moms always make the kids clean the house when they have a day off from school? It’s so mean and hateful. My mom ALWAYS made us clean on Saturdays, I hated that and now I do it to my kids. Muhahahaah, muhahahahah, MUAHAHAHAHA!

But, then they pay me back ten fold. While I was in the bathroom, um, you know, uh, doing stuff I heard some commotion. As usual I ignored it thinking my boys are rough housing or fighting over a toy or whatever. I wasn’t going to deal with it right then, because, you know, I was kinda busy going er, I mean, doing stuff.

As I exited the commode I heard the sound a mom hates to hear from her kids, the sound that makes my armpits prickle and causes wrinkles and gray hairs to spring forth from my skin like popcorn in hot oil. The sound of my kids panicking.

“What happened?!” I yelled. From upstairs Ellen tells me Seth is hurt. Naturally, I think he’s upstairs so I start to run towards the stairs, but I’m informed that he’s cut and it happened in the school room so I’m doing a little dance between the stairs and the school room trying to find him and finally I holler, “Where is HE?!”

“Mom, I’m right here.”

Seth was crouched in a heap holding his hand on the rug right behind me and I hadn’t even noticed him.

To sum it up, he was chasing his brother (instead of cleaning I might add) and his little brother slammed the glass french doors behind him right as Seth was reaching to grab him causing Seth’s hand to shatter one of the panes. An hour and four stitches later we were back home and the house was no cleaner.
My other three children’s reactions were to panic, cry and hide. Ellen can not stand to see her brother’s badly hurt she just can’t handle it. Although after I told her he was going to be fine, but we needed to go get stitches she was very sweet offering to come with him for moral support. I made her stay home with the littles who were both hiding one with his head buried in the couch and the other on his bed. The poor girl had to console the inconsolable and clean up the shattered glass. Did I mention she had a friend over too? I live in a house full of crazy.

Then there was another Standing game. But I found a way to make the time go quicker.
Volunteer. Yep, first I covered for admissions until the guy that was signed up to do it got there.
And then I spent the rest of the game in this little trailer running concessions. Oh, and at some point I had to run my two littles to a birthday party. So, it really was a painless experience but the setting up of that concession stand and cleaning up is no small task. My dad, the vending man, would be very proud of how I straightened all the chips bags and then stored the candy bars in the fridge to keep them from melting.

Here’s what I’ve learned about parents with kids in sports; If there are say 20 kids on a team, approximately 3 parents will volunteer to help do all the crap that needs to be done. So, I will always have something to do at a game and have no fear that I’ll ever need to sit in the bleachers to cheer on my stander. And to those other 17 parents I would like to say two things 1. Thank you for letting me serve you a hot dog and pretzel and 2. If you ever complain about anything I will smack you in the face with a bowl of slimy nacho cheese.

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