Onward and Upward

We're back into swimming lessons for the next couple of weeks so life is a whirlwind once Captain Kindergarten comes in the door from school. 

"Read!  Write!  How Was Your Day?"  I cry.  "Stop.  Go!  Shoes in Your Room!  Sidekick Sis!  Little Linebacker!  Be kind!  Be kind!  Clean Up Those Toys.  No Don't Take Those Out."  And then I circle around again.  "Go!  Stop!  Eat.  Quick!  Swimming Suits!  No You Can Not Watch A Show.  I Told You Swimming Suits!  Get Your Shoes Back On.  WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!!"  Always I'm saying we're going to be late...like it's their fault...like they understand time...like they've never asked me if it's fourteen thirty yet.  "Wait.  Stop.  I've Got to Feed the Baby.  OK.  Go, Go, Go!  WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"  Let me tell you what, I've never been my own child before, but I just know its gotta be loads of fun.

When we get out the door, the house we leave behind looks like heavy winds have had their way, like our hero here The Incredible Hulk himself has battled the Abomination and forgotten to tidy up afterward; like Ariel, Snow White, Cinderella and Mulan had a tea party with twelve of their closest friends and left all their dishes in the sink for the help to busy themselves with; like a frazzled, disorganized Mom has been left alone with the sacred trust of four small children for a small portion of the timeline of her life and forgotten where the broom is.

So now I sit here to type and I can see on the floor around me backpacks, books, reversible super-hero capes, my primary pictures I got out two days ago to get ready for Sunday, hats, baby feeding paraphernalia, and a wire whisk on the lazy boy.  The wire whisk was perched atop Sidekick Sister's head earlier today.  She was a robot and a unicorn and a princess (of course).  I still feel a little woozy thinking about the wobbliness of my brain as it sailed with her shiftings.  And the kicker, there is laundry to be folded on my bed.

Messes like this kind of make me crazy.  But did you know I only get eighteen years with these kids?  Eighteen a pop.  That's it.  Then they take their messes elsewhere.  So maybe this mess feels cozy.  Maybe it feels busy and full.  Maybe it's brimming with good memories made today.  Maybe its poking me in the arm and whispering what I should do with my kids tomorrow - like read Little Linebacker the books I didn't know he had gotten out. 

Onward and upward folks.  Onward and upward.