I have never in my life been so consistently overwhelmed. All my kids all the time with so very few experiences that could be categorized as "breaks." Let's just say that at this moment 4 kids feels like a larger amount than it sounds like. I need 3 of me even more than usual. I could keep one of me more than busy just keeping tabs on the kids. Another one could clean and clean and clean, (because kids are gross) and maybe cook, and the third one can think more than 10 minutes ahead and plan and record and think clearly and be gracious and funny and get enough sleep.
But despite the bulldozer aspect of the majority of my summer, there have been some shiny moments.
The boys all had a few days of heaven during our bi-annual family reunion in Hanna. (Bunny however had a cold, so neither she nor I got any sleep and the two of us were grumpy the whole time).
I'm pretty sure I've aged 2 or 3 years this summer from sheer sleep deprivation. My kids appear to be on a rotating schedule for illness and night terrors and bed-wetting. It is always somebody's turn. Last night the Captain came knocking at my door at 1 am, complaining that he was tired. I do not joke, my sleep losses are not funny to me at this point.
Bunny has nearly exploded with teeth in the past few weeks. She has also become fully mobile. She's a cute, slobbery, wiggly mess and nothing is safe with her around. Everybody who sees me in action says my hands are full, and it seems to become more true every passing day.
Somehow though, in the midst of sheer exhaustion, I can see how I would miss all this craziness some day. There is a lot of vibrance in the mess. There is always something to do. There is something endearing about all this neediness from all these oblivious short people. They are physically exhausting but they are also transparent. The stakes are still low. The drama is still over snacks and losing a game and not wanting to wear pants. They will all still hold my hand and sit on my lap when they are pouty. They will grow up, they will need less from me for their health and well-being. The things they'll need from me will get infinitely more spindly to navigate. It will get harder to tell how I'm doing and where I'm failing. So this straightforward exhausting bit will look pretty sweet in retrospect.
Somehow I've just got to wrestle my way through the remaining two weeks of summer vacation. Sir O starts back and then (gulp) I start back a couple of weeks later. Things are destined to get more intense, and not less. But there is hope that with the older boys in school on a regular basis I will occasionally find a moment to come to the surface for air before diving back in. It's truly amazing what a difference realistic expectations make when one is attempting ambitious lunacy. I can see how wild it's going to be and how intensely tightly I'll have to budget my time. I can also see how relatively short of a time the whole endeavor will be. I suppose it's a sign of some sort of old age when I find myself saying "I can do anything for only 2 years...."
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