Yesterday was a long day. Not a bad day. In fact, it went as smoothly as a rainy summer day with four kids can go. But still. Long.
The coach didn't show up for our first day of t-ball -- but a wonderful dad stepped in and hit balls to the kids instead.
We managed to sign up for our local YMCA -- which opens a new, huge, gorgeous pool this weekend -- without a single child freaking out and throwing a fit. ("Your children are so well behaved," cooed the staff. Yes, they are. At the moment.)
Because I stashed a DVD in the car, the kids were content to sit and cheer on "Diego" while I nursed Kieran in the front seat -- and tried to avoid the curious looks of all the construction types scurrying around us.
Since yesterday was our 14th day of rain since June began (note: yesterday was June 15; do the math), I quelled my nausea and took the kids to McDonald's playland for lunch. We survived. And we managed to hit up our neighborhood library for a fresh stack of books before Kieran woke up again. We even dodged a momentary but torrential downpour while we were looking at books inside.
Of course, Teyla didn't nap. At all. And Kieran was cranky, which led to a 100% babywearing day. I had to turn the AC on, even though it was only 70 degrees, because the humidity made babywearing miserable. Corey called at 6:00 and asked if it would be all right if he kept working for another 30 minutes. Kieran was crying at that moment, Teyla was throwing a fit in the other room and the other two kids were cranky with hunger. But I took a deep breath and said, "Sure." He didn't get home until 7:15. We ate dinner at 8:00.
So. The day was long. Partly fun with scattered cranky.
But I felt profoundly grateful last night. Which is how I was able to bang out this little essay for 5 Minutes for Parenting. It's about the gift of the quiet at the end of a long day.
Now, if I could just get the gift of a masseuse. Because sometimes, a long day plus a full heart equals a sore back.