After a busy morning of wrangling my children followed by an afternoon manning a craft table at a children’s Christmas Craft Fair, I decided to appease the requests of my younger crew members (aka sons and daughter under 12yo) who’d been begging to visit Santa at the mall.
I had a few errands to run beforehand (think clothes shopping with 4 less-than-interested companions), so I figured that the promise of a stop-over to see St. Nick would be ample incentive to keep the whining at bay. Continue reading
We were headed in opposite directions, my husband to soccer and me to fulfill our weekly adoration hour with the rest of our brood of children. It wasn’t really anything new or extraordinary, single-parenting in adoration.
Admittedly during the adjustment period three years ago when we first began adoring as a family, two pairs of arms and eyes were needed to manage our youngest ones as the clock ticked off sixty minutes, but since then we’ve all learned how to spend an hour in the chapel with (relatively) few interruptions or needs for discipline. Continue reading
The baby walked in front of our play-set swing, while it was in use by the 6 year old, causing the littlest guy to be launched into a fresh mud puddle. That incident caused their teen-aged, sibling caretaker to lash out at the swing rider eye-for-an-eye style.
I was working 3rd grade math word problems and navigating the world in an atlas with my 5th grader when the crying, muttering, muddy trio burst through the front door simultaneously bellowing their allegations against one another.
Trying to remain calm, I scooped up the dirt caked toddler while attempting to negotiate a truce between the two warring parties.
Reminding everyone about the value of self-control and sincere contrition, I made my way to the bathroom so as to hose off my toddler. Unfortunately, the only thing my youngest hates more than the bath tub is a shower that doesn’t include my full participation.