The first night went well. I guess the excitement and new rooms helped. I spaced out bedtimes for the twins and Maryanne at half hour intervals. My own Miriam wanted desperately to stay up with the twelve year olds so I agreed. and the four of us snuggled into the huge sofa to watch tv. I was the first alseep. One minute we're watching Project Runway and the next I know some millionaire is giving money to a kitchen. It didn't take too long to persuade them into their beds. The last ones I turned the lights out on were the kittens and I locked them up in the spare room to save everyone from midnight pounces. Then I swallowed a last desperate two pain killers and fell into bed praying sleep would come quickly and the migraine would leave.
Day 2 - Not only am I awake early to give Arthur his ADHD meds, but so's the migraine. I swallow 2 more Advils. They're the only ones making any 'headway' on this pain. Great now I'm wide awake, and it was also Spring ahead last night so my body thinks it's 6am but the clocks all say 7. Either way it's too early!
Normally I would have made a cuppa tea and settled down to some Facebook time. But I gave up FB for Lent. It made sense - after all I couldn't give up anything food wise - we are planning a trip to Europe just before Easter and I'm sure as heck not missing out on any culinary opportunity so I needed to choose something significant and not impinge upon my european pleasures. Facebook it was. Besides - I could use that time for planning, packing, maybe even a little writing. I like writing. I even belong to a writing group. Not that I actually wrote a book - but I keep slogging away on a draft I did during a NaNoWriMo. The draft took 30 days, the edit is on year two now. Oh well.
So I sat with my cuppa and pondered how if I hadn't given up FB I'd probably be on it telling my friends all about the spaghetti dinner fiasco and how I was looking after 6 children on my own and it struck me that it might make for a blog. So I started this one. I've never blogged before - felt I didn't have a hook - but what the heck. even if the only people who ever read it are my closest friends and family - I can at least accomplish a couple of things - I can getting a little writing in and still share with friends the craziness at my house this week. I'll just need to send out one massive email and let people know what I'm up to.
Sometime around 9am there were stirrings and a couple of the girls emerged. Soon everyone but Miriam was awake and downstairs happily watching tv. Miriam loves to sleep in. She's made a nest out of her bed and her favorite thing is to curl up in her fuzzy blanket and turn around a few times and go back to sleep. We call her a dragon and her bed a lair. It certainly looks like one. I finished the first post, checked it twice and then published. Then I noticed several typos and grammatical mistakes - oh too bad. I'm hungry and so are the kids.
Most weekends my husband makes a fabulous breakfast of sausages, potatoes and eggs. My head is still pounding and the nausea from the pain means the idea of scrambling anything is right out. And I'm still not sure how much these kids eat. I know my own children's appetites, but the girls are a different set of likes and dislikes. i pullout the cereal, toast and fruit. That way they can choose. I burn the first batch of toast because I'm pulled away to change a wet bum and forgot to ask a twelve year old to take over. Not that that would actually mean they'd have saved the toast. They both have a tendency to be a little oblivious. It's the nature of their autism. So I madly scraped the worst off and and buttered them well. First meltdown occurs now. The very youngest - Shirley doesn't want to leave the toys and come back up for breakfast. Arthur tries talking, then promises to play with her afterwards, then calls for reinforcements. Nichelle is more practical. She picks her little sister up but the child wiggles and threatens to bite her so Nichelle lets her go again. Now it's my turn.
I get her to the table, and I put some toast with cheese whiz on her plate.
" You have to eat some." I told her " Then you can go back and play." Her scowl was classic. In the end I won, she ate two pieces of toast and drank her juice and Arthur happily went downstairs with her to build with Lego duplo. ( I kept all of it even when he outgrew it - it's a life saver.)
So breakfast is over and other than Audrey who changes her clothes four or five times a day if she can - everyone else is content to stay in jammies. I declare it pajama day and head for the dishes. Oh well - two bowls of barely eaten Captain Crunch are swimming in milk. I eat them. I love Captain Crunch and I can't bear to see it wasted. However I have no problems letting the remainder of the Koala Krispies go. And I made too much toast. I have 5 slices left over. It looks like I'm doing grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.
The remaining time until lunch went swiftly. I find the spaghetti stained clothing of Maryanne and run it through with a load of laundry. It comes out still stained. I do a second round, this time using stain fighter.
After a lunch I start working my way through the disaster in my office. Over the last year I have found myself taking on more and more responsibility concerning my parents' affairs along with an enormous influx of information concerning our son who was only just recently diagnosed, and of course the usual flood of reports, statements and bills and information that regularly comes addressed to us; until I had ended up with over 14 feet of paper. I don't mean laid out end to end - I mean a stack that stood 14 feet high. I went to Ikea and bought those magazine holders just to hold it all. It's taken me 9 months but I'm down to the last three feet. And today was the day I needed to dig out the stuff for the financial planner and the tax info for my husband. So keeping a ear open for any fights that might break out, I hid out in my office and started sorting the last stacks into smaller and more specific piles. It was a job I wouldn't see the end of until bedtime.
Some time in the mid afternoon a request came for snacks. Then before I knew it the dinner hour was sneaking up on me. Something else had snuck up too. Peace in my brain. I realized the migraine was abating. Oh thank God for that. But what for dinner. I remembered vaguely mentioning something to my husband as he'd made the shopping list the day before and in anticipation I pulled open the freezer. Brilliant man had bought two packages of fish fillets and two bags of french fries. Yes - easy dinner. Add a few peas and carrots and we are laughing. Dessert - oops. I had planned to make cookies earlier but forgot to do it in the afternoon. Since no one had come whining about being bored - and my head hadn't distracted me - I'd forgotten. And it was too late to make a pudding or jello. Hmmmmmm ah we'll make them as dessert. oatmeal were fast - that's perfect.
Oatmeal cookies are not what they wanted. It took several rounds to persuade some of the nieces to eat the fish. They're Newfies - they should love fish! Argh. The peas however everyone scarfed down. A few flew across the table, and I can't say they were pushed tidily up the back of forks but rather scooped, sucked, plucked and pierced ; but they were eaten. So when I announced we'd make cookies - there were screams of delight which turned sour when I said oatmeal.
" Mum - we have sugar cookie mix - lots of it - why can't we make sugar cookies?" Sugar cookies mean sprinkles - and rolling, and cookie cutters, and they take a lot more effort. I remember well how incredibly frustrating it was to make sugar cookies with just two kids when they'd been little - the thought of six doing it overwhelmed me. I was about to try renegotiating when there came a knock on the door. Really - a knock - it was my sister-in-law's brother. or my brother-in-law's brother-in-law. Any way you look at it - he was the only other competent adult family member not in Newfoundland for the funeral and he was here to help. Yes!
Okay - we'll make sugar cookies!
An abundance of sprinkles is important when you are three. So I have never complained when young cooks decorate a single cookie leaving no space uncovered. However when the sprinkles overflow and start to cover the cookie sheet I feel the need to surreptitiously remove a few. Otherwise the cookies were a hit. It meant that we were a tad behind getting to bed - but then their little bodies were still thinking it was a hour earlier than the clocks so I didn't mind. But the sugar content in even one cookie meant that it was a long time before eyes finally shut. At last count only my son and I were awake and it is1am. Oh well - my migraine is gone - I'll sleep well if only for a short while.
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Spaghetti Dinner
It's March Break - and for most mothers that means scurrying about to find child care options. Of course it's expected that the little darlings will return to their own homes and beds at night. But for our family it's a little different. This time around I have one dog, two cats, three classroom fish boarding with us, my four nieces and they're all my responsibility for the next five days.
This March Break started two days too soon. We had a snow day, which meant keeping the kids home from school just when I was thinking I could get a few little extra errands in and maybe sneak in a little me time before the week started for real. Oh well, my kids are older and pretty independent - so it wasn't the hardship it was when they were little and easily bored and needing supervision. So I rose slowly and re planned my day with a few less chores. perhaps I'd treat us to pizza tonight - my husband is out on Thursdays so I like to make the evening a family one for me and the kids. We could get out those scouting and guiding books and perhaps pick out a badge or two to work on next week. And I could insist on getting the fish tank ready in preparation for the visiting classroom fish that were due home tomorrow.
Tea in hand, I mused with myself and occasionally with my two computer addicted kids, what the week would be like. We could get in a little exercise - a preparation for our upcoming trip to Europe where we would be doing a lot of walking. Even if the weather was horrid ( and here in the southern Ontario that is a real possibility) we had the Wii. So I pictured the three of us taking turns doing our Wii fit programs and sometimes outside dragging the dog for a walk. Then there were those badges - an hour or so each day, around the kitchen table working on my 12 yr old son's scout car for the upcoming races or a paper mache mask with my 9 yr old daughter's theatre badge in guides - Perhaps a little music in the background - or some cookies in the oven. Not too strenuous a program, certainly not one which deprived them of free time - but one designed to keep the computer gaming time down. Hopefully I could keep it reigned in to a few hours each evening instead of all day sessions.
So when the phone rang I was in a pleasant state of imagined organization; a week of happy well rested diversity wherein I the perfect mother would have provided a happy holiday for my loving family.... and then I heard my sister-in-law say "Nan's dead."
The rest of that day was spent making phone calls, receiving phone calls - and realizing that my happy plans for the next 10 days had just been kicked out the window. First of all I should tell you who Nan is. She's the last living grandparent on my husband's side. A lovely lady - who had eleven children and a very hard life. My husband is the oldest child of her oldest child ( his mother) and there are aunts and uncles younger than he and I in the family. He has one brother who lives in the same town we do and I get along well with his wife and their four girls. It's been very helpful having family.
I am an only child and have no experience with siblings, so my husband's clan often intrigue me. Last year when both my parents ( who divorced 30 years earlier) were ill, I found myself travelling a lot between them to help. My father was diagnosed with cancer and opted for surgery but did not properly recover and after a month died. My mother who suffers from osteoarthritis and Alzheimer's fell, then fell again and soon was unable to do much for herself and needed care. So the year previously, I had relied heavily upon my sister-in-law to take in my children at moment's notice and to help. In the midst of that craziness, my husband's very favorite grandmother had died ( his father's mother) and because of my parents, he opted to stay home and help with my mother and our children instead of travelling home to Newfoundland for the funeral. So this time around it was clear to me - it was his turn to go home. So far this made sense.
But there was more. My sister-in-law was now facing the same situation as I had last year. Her father was battling cancer and he wasn't winning. I had been urging her to go home to see him before things progressed to death and so when her husband also decided he was flying home for the funeral she decided to go as well. Then she could see her dad and give her mum a small break. Then it became clear that with travelling time included the three other adults would be gone for five days and I would be alone with all the kids.
Here's the breakdown - Arthur my son, who is 12 years old and has autism and ADHD; Nichelle my eldest niece - also 12 years old, also has autism ( Aspberger's), Miriam , my daughter, 9 years old, Maryanne, the next niece who is 6 and very tiny, and then the twins Audrey and Shirley, my last two nieces, both three and potty training.
So by Friday evening when most families were relaxing and looking forward to a quiet night I was frantically moving through my house preparing for 4 young house guests and my husband was still at work trying to get ahead of the job he'd be missing the following week. That's when the migraine hit. A migraine that wouldn't let up. I was still harbouring a nasty cough rooted deep in my chest and between the sinuses and hacking I was ingesting cold meds every four hours so in an effort to not overdose I was sparing with the painkillers. It didn't work. The migraine took hold full bore leaving me with my head covered in writhing pain and the house still a tip.
Saturday: Day One of Camp Aunt. The other adults don't leave until later in the day - so my husband undertook the shopping - the migraine is still going full steam and I haven't yet been able to get in touch with any of the people my sister-in-law told me would help. I put in a call to a teenager I know for extra babysitting help. By four oclock we are ready. I have planned to put the twins in my son's room which meant we spent the morning clearing out all the precious intricate cars and paraphernalia and putting up a barrier to the loft. Then I moved the bed and blew up an air mattress and hoped the remaining stuff was safe from inquisitive three year olds. My daughter also tidied - she would be hosting the older girls in her room. All that was left was prepping dinner. Spaghetti seemed easy. I swallowed more meds (the migraine now seemed a permanent part of my health along with the stupid cold/cough) and started making a sauce.
Then they arrived. The bags moved in - all 15 of them - between toys and bedding and snacks and extra mittens - they overflowed my entrance spilling up the stairs towards the bedrooms. We got them sorted and then hugged the outgoing adults and waved on their way. I'm alone now with six children looking at me expectantly. Spaghetti dinner! I organized the older ones - the 12year olds on serving food and milk, the nine year old on setting forks and spoons, the 6 year old getting hands washed and everyone to the table ( she's a terrific shepherd).
"Aunt - is there any cheese? "
" Why yes" and I reached into the fridge for the fresh Parmesan. It was a tad clumped so I gave it a shake and the lid flew - Instantly I have Parmesan cheese all over me, the counter, the floor, the stove and one of the plates of spaghetti. The cats and dog move in swiftly.
" Maybe I won't have cheese after all" says the twelve year old. and she takes a fresh plate into the dining room whereupon she trips and spills the hot dinner over the head of her six year old sister. The piercing screams penetrates through my head like a hot poker.
Still covered in cheese myself, I rescue my niece, stripping her clothes and applying cold compresses to the bright red spots on her shoulder and leg where the dinner fell. She's okay, and returns to the table in her jammies to have a fresh dinner. I make some kind of joke about her and I being the dinner and she shakes her curls to show me the sauce still stuck in her hair. I'll give her a bath later.
So it's less than 20 minutes into this adventure and there's food on the floor which the animals have given up trying to eat, one child injured and filthy and I have small grains of Parmesan encrusted in my eyebrows. This bodes well......
This March Break started two days too soon. We had a snow day, which meant keeping the kids home from school just when I was thinking I could get a few little extra errands in and maybe sneak in a little me time before the week started for real. Oh well, my kids are older and pretty independent - so it wasn't the hardship it was when they were little and easily bored and needing supervision. So I rose slowly and re planned my day with a few less chores. perhaps I'd treat us to pizza tonight - my husband is out on Thursdays so I like to make the evening a family one for me and the kids. We could get out those scouting and guiding books and perhaps pick out a badge or two to work on next week. And I could insist on getting the fish tank ready in preparation for the visiting classroom fish that were due home tomorrow.
Tea in hand, I mused with myself and occasionally with my two computer addicted kids, what the week would be like. We could get in a little exercise - a preparation for our upcoming trip to Europe where we would be doing a lot of walking. Even if the weather was horrid ( and here in the southern Ontario that is a real possibility) we had the Wii. So I pictured the three of us taking turns doing our Wii fit programs and sometimes outside dragging the dog for a walk. Then there were those badges - an hour or so each day, around the kitchen table working on my 12 yr old son's scout car for the upcoming races or a paper mache mask with my 9 yr old daughter's theatre badge in guides - Perhaps a little music in the background - or some cookies in the oven. Not too strenuous a program, certainly not one which deprived them of free time - but one designed to keep the computer gaming time down. Hopefully I could keep it reigned in to a few hours each evening instead of all day sessions.
So when the phone rang I was in a pleasant state of imagined organization; a week of happy well rested diversity wherein I the perfect mother would have provided a happy holiday for my loving family.... and then I heard my sister-in-law say "Nan's dead."
The rest of that day was spent making phone calls, receiving phone calls - and realizing that my happy plans for the next 10 days had just been kicked out the window. First of all I should tell you who Nan is. She's the last living grandparent on my husband's side. A lovely lady - who had eleven children and a very hard life. My husband is the oldest child of her oldest child ( his mother) and there are aunts and uncles younger than he and I in the family. He has one brother who lives in the same town we do and I get along well with his wife and their four girls. It's been very helpful having family.
I am an only child and have no experience with siblings, so my husband's clan often intrigue me. Last year when both my parents ( who divorced 30 years earlier) were ill, I found myself travelling a lot between them to help. My father was diagnosed with cancer and opted for surgery but did not properly recover and after a month died. My mother who suffers from osteoarthritis and Alzheimer's fell, then fell again and soon was unable to do much for herself and needed care. So the year previously, I had relied heavily upon my sister-in-law to take in my children at moment's notice and to help. In the midst of that craziness, my husband's very favorite grandmother had died ( his father's mother) and because of my parents, he opted to stay home and help with my mother and our children instead of travelling home to Newfoundland for the funeral. So this time around it was clear to me - it was his turn to go home. So far this made sense.
But there was more. My sister-in-law was now facing the same situation as I had last year. Her father was battling cancer and he wasn't winning. I had been urging her to go home to see him before things progressed to death and so when her husband also decided he was flying home for the funeral she decided to go as well. Then she could see her dad and give her mum a small break. Then it became clear that with travelling time included the three other adults would be gone for five days and I would be alone with all the kids.
Here's the breakdown - Arthur my son, who is 12 years old and has autism and ADHD; Nichelle my eldest niece - also 12 years old, also has autism ( Aspberger's), Miriam , my daughter, 9 years old, Maryanne, the next niece who is 6 and very tiny, and then the twins Audrey and Shirley, my last two nieces, both three and potty training.
So by Friday evening when most families were relaxing and looking forward to a quiet night I was frantically moving through my house preparing for 4 young house guests and my husband was still at work trying to get ahead of the job he'd be missing the following week. That's when the migraine hit. A migraine that wouldn't let up. I was still harbouring a nasty cough rooted deep in my chest and between the sinuses and hacking I was ingesting cold meds every four hours so in an effort to not overdose I was sparing with the painkillers. It didn't work. The migraine took hold full bore leaving me with my head covered in writhing pain and the house still a tip.
Saturday: Day One of Camp Aunt. The other adults don't leave until later in the day - so my husband undertook the shopping - the migraine is still going full steam and I haven't yet been able to get in touch with any of the people my sister-in-law told me would help. I put in a call to a teenager I know for extra babysitting help. By four oclock we are ready. I have planned to put the twins in my son's room which meant we spent the morning clearing out all the precious intricate cars and paraphernalia and putting up a barrier to the loft. Then I moved the bed and blew up an air mattress and hoped the remaining stuff was safe from inquisitive three year olds. My daughter also tidied - she would be hosting the older girls in her room. All that was left was prepping dinner. Spaghetti seemed easy. I swallowed more meds (the migraine now seemed a permanent part of my health along with the stupid cold/cough) and started making a sauce.
Then they arrived. The bags moved in - all 15 of them - between toys and bedding and snacks and extra mittens - they overflowed my entrance spilling up the stairs towards the bedrooms. We got them sorted and then hugged the outgoing adults and waved on their way. I'm alone now with six children looking at me expectantly. Spaghetti dinner! I organized the older ones - the 12year olds on serving food and milk, the nine year old on setting forks and spoons, the 6 year old getting hands washed and everyone to the table ( she's a terrific shepherd).
"Aunt - is there any cheese? "
" Why yes" and I reached into the fridge for the fresh Parmesan. It was a tad clumped so I gave it a shake and the lid flew - Instantly I have Parmesan cheese all over me, the counter, the floor, the stove and one of the plates of spaghetti. The cats and dog move in swiftly.
" Maybe I won't have cheese after all" says the twelve year old. and she takes a fresh plate into the dining room whereupon she trips and spills the hot dinner over the head of her six year old sister. The piercing screams penetrates through my head like a hot poker.
Still covered in cheese myself, I rescue my niece, stripping her clothes and applying cold compresses to the bright red spots on her shoulder and leg where the dinner fell. She's okay, and returns to the table in her jammies to have a fresh dinner. I make some kind of joke about her and I being the dinner and she shakes her curls to show me the sauce still stuck in her hair. I'll give her a bath later.
So it's less than 20 minutes into this adventure and there's food on the floor which the animals have given up trying to eat, one child injured and filthy and I have small grains of Parmesan encrusted in my eyebrows. This bodes well......
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