When I was a child - an only child, it was my greatest dream to live in a large family. Every year I would carefully ask Santa for siblings, I would make friends with girls who did have large families and beg for sleepovers and I wondered at how the largest family on our street (14) managed in the smallest house.
When I went to camp and was surrounded by hundreds of girls for a month - it was wonderful to pretend that this was one huge family sitting down together in the dining hall. Alas - by the time my father remarried and I got a stepsister and stepbrother - it was too late - I was in my early 20's and away from home.
When I grew old enough to contemplate having a family of my own - I pictured a busy home, several children with loads of friends in and out, neighbours who dropped over regularly and the happiness of large gatherings around a long long table laden with good food and drink. That is why I gleefully include family and dear friends for family occasions and extend my table into the living room with desks and folding tables and wooden boards every Thanksgiving and Christmas.
So if truth be told I was kind of excited and actually looking forward to having a large family for a few days. But what is a novelty for me is not for the children. They all have siblings, whether it is just one or three. Any way you slice it - for them the fantasy family must be the autonomy of the only child. Ah yes the grass is always greener and all that. Which is why at the first opportunity presented, each one of the older four found a way to flee the house for an overnight somewhere else.
Nichelle and Maryanne each have as best friends a pair of sisters with the same age gap. Their mother was good friends with my sister-in-law and the two families often swap girls and pick up or drop off duties between their daughter's various activities and interests. My sister-in-law had told me that her friend was offering help and I gladly pounced upon it.
Lets face it - My house isn't completely girl zone. Arthur commands the computer and Wii - dictating often the choices and those choices often include blowing up something - loudly, violently. He's 12. Hardly appropriate for six year old girls who love Tinkerbell. Miriam has long acclimatized to her brother's tastes and often happily joins in building forts and digging virtual tunnels on MineCraft or watching endless YouTube videos on how to adapt your Bionacle to become a bigger badder version of itself. So other than the Duplo Lego, some crayons and craft supplies and a few Barbies that Miriam can't bring herself to part with - there is a limited amount of entertainment value at my house for four girls.
Monday evening after dinner - Nichelle and Maryanne packed up their sleeping bags and a few clothes in anticipation of a sleepover with their best friends. Uncle Robin had arrived again to help with the twins and the twins had decided they were helping their older sisters pack. So I sent him in to supervise, thinking he as an adult would restrain three year olds from leaping from Miriam's elevated bed, over the bookcase and on to the airmattress upon which Nichelle was struggling to stuff her sleeping bag into it's case. "YAHOO" echoed down the hallway and I went to investigate. Apparently I was mistaken - as Audrey flew through the air narrowly missing the corner jutting out from under Miriam's mattress and landing face first on the now soggy airmattress. Thankfully her older sister's weight had pushed enough air to the end she landed on and the child merely bounced and rolled off. I removed her for a brief time out and scowled at her uncle. I'm thinking perhaps I should have given him the timeout instead.
Then their hostess arrives to pick them up. While she and I chat in the front hall - Nichelle is sent back to collect toothbrushes - and then socks and then her DS until everything is collected. Meanwhile Maryanne is introducing her best friend ,who had come along on the pick-up, to all the animals - and it takes a few more minutes to gather up those two girls. The mother is in no rush to leave and stands happily chatting and holding my ginger cat and looks like she'd stay forever but I can see the first of my writing group friends pulling up outside and so I reluctantly kind of push my nieces out the door for their sleepover playdate. They'll be back tomorrow at dinner time. maybe. maybe later, maybe not. They're fine.
Arthur had spent the day at his friends house and that set of parents upon learning about Camp Aunt offered to take him for a sleep over as well. I agreed however Arthur decides he's coming home. And Miriam had fled quickly in the afternoon to her friend next door. But she returned at dinner time too. So this evening after the twins are put to bed - Uncle Robin is getting better at this and avoids being sucked into their evil lair and departs, it's just my two and my weekly writing group of four. Two of them are mothers so my brief interruptions to tell three year olds to stop jumping and go to bed, to stop singing and go to sleep, and finally JUST GO TO SLEEP - are not too disruptive and eventually they too depart. It's now practically 11pm so I let Miriam finish the tv show she's glued to - some silly thing called Splatalot where kids are running a obstacle course designed to make them fall into soap suds and goo and padded large objects. The latest craze in reality tv. And then it's bed. I fall into it and 7am comes way too soon.
Day Four: I have ambitions today. My head has finally stopped and the cough/cold is down to a dull roar. I don't have to take my Mother anywhere. The twins ask for a simple breakfast and my two are so slow to rise that I leave them to fend for themselves. I think I'll get some housework done - perhaps the bathrooms and some vacumning and then when the teenager is here I might escape and do a little shopping. Then the evening I can put away more of the piles of paper. Sounds terrific to me. But before breakfast is finished, I have discovered that Arthur was unable to resist the computer the day before when he was babysitting ( Miriam snitched) and I have to address this. " No computer today until after dinner. " He is devastated. ( He's often devasted so I take this in stride.) Half an hour of tears and self pity and I'm fed up. We'll do some homework review. Arthur has several issues he is learning to cope with - a learning disability concerning how he inputs information and then regurgitates it and his high functioning autism and ADHD. So studying is still something of a new idea for him and we are learning the best ways to do it. Basically if he reads something and I leave him alone for day and then come back to it to review - he has it down pat. But if I try pushing a new idea through - especially one that requires manipulating a concept through several stages until you see the conclusion it is extremely hard on him. The frustration builds up a block and the block leads to more frustration and we end up in a vicious Catch-22. This morning is a review opportunity and he sails through the first seven questions giving me straightforward if still brief answers. It's the next question where things break down again. We are back to the tears in a few minutes. I cut him some slack and suggest he call a friend. By now the twins have gotten bored with the Barbies and little ponies they brought, and they don't want Duplo today and they've wandered into our study session demanding snacks and attention. This is the final straw for Arthur and he decides that only escape will do. So instead of getting any house cleaning done I'm now helping him with packing - he's heading out as soon as the teenager gets here and I can drop him off.
Miriam is not going to be left behind with the three year olds. I can't blame her - They are now playing with a Barbie that sings " Two voices, one song " and they join in every time. Lucky for her her school friend calls and offers to take her swimming. "Can I?" - of course. I even give her some money to treat her friend. The time had fled by - it's now almost noon , lunch time and the teenager is here and I haven't done anything more than the dishes and make my bed. Argh - oh well - I'll do a little shopping when I drop off Arthur and then sneak back in the house and at least get a start on that paperwork.
For one whole week my mother had no phone. Now it's finally working and she can find me. Oh joy, oh bliss. It takes several calls with her to convince her that her precious Globe and mail was delivered and that someone has misplaced it and she should ask one of the staff at the home for help locating it. Call three is to tell me she's found it. Yahoo. Then I too run into a friend - and with no real pressing business, I enjoy the chat. Then I realize I haven't eaten lunch - I treat myself to a guilty Big Mac and eventually I have the shopping I wanted, and I head home - but the time again has slipped by too quickly and the teenager's mother arrives too soon to collect her. There's a phone message from Miriam - Can she stay at her friend's over night? I pack her stuff happy that she is having a sleepover like the other three big kids.
The house is surprisingly quiet. It's just me and the twins left and they have an appetite like a small bird. So much for this lovely big family time. To hell with the diet - Pop-tarts for dinner!
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