Bruce suggested that I map out an average 24 hours of my life, so the world could see what a person with eight kids does all day long. Apparently some of the people he talks to about me are amazed that I can even get out of bed with eight kids. Sometimes this amazes me, too. So I thought I'd take him up on that challenge.
But first I'm going to gripe about my laundry again. You know, I made up a list of the clothes we would use in a week—if we were nice people who changed our clothes every day, instead of sleeping in them and wearing them the next day: 7 shirts each (70 shirts), 2-3 pairs of pants each (50 pants), 7 pairs of socks (140 socks), 7 pairs of underwear (70 underwear), 2 towels each (14 towels). I didn't include Sunday dresses, or dish-towels and rags, or floor-mats that the dog threw up on. Then I figured out how much stuff could go into one load of laundry, and came up with 16 loads of laundry a week. From sorting, to washing, to folding, that translates into 32 hours of laundry a week! A part-time job. No wonder I'm always drowning in dirty laundry!
Anyway . . . ahem! A day in my life:
2:30 a.m. I get up to use the bathroom. This has got to be leftover from all those pregnancies. I don't even really have to go that badly.
5:20 a.m. Do I really have to go to the bathroom again? Probably not. I think I'm just aware that my boys have to get up for early-morning Seminary now. They get themselves up, but I wake up anyway.
5:56 a.m. I'm awake again—or did I ever really go back to sleep? Bruce has to get up soon.
6:00 a.m. Now the alarm is going off for Bruce to get up. Can I sleep for another hour?
7:00 a.m. No, there really is no rest for the weary. Time to get the kids up for school. I go to their rooms and flip the lights on. "Time to get ready for school!" I sweetly croon. (Really! I usually do say this very nicely; it's just with the light-switch that my cruel nature shows through.) I also turn on all the lights in the house so that my carpool boy knows we're awake and doesn't go back home.
7:08 a.m. Tucker's barking; Benjamin must be here. I let him in and check to see if all the kids are out of bed.
7:12 a.m. I go get dressed for the day.
7:20 a.m. Brandon, Ryan and Lindsey are dressed and in the kitchen. I send Lindsey to hurry her sisters along—it doesn't usually work.
7:25 a.m. "Everyone grab your scriptures and get into the living room; it's time to read!" I go down to see how the girls are doing. Kaylie is dressed and getting her shoes on. Rachel is sitting on her bed with her shirt on, but no pants; she's reading a book or coloring. Jessica is still in bed. When I ask why they're not ready they say they can't find their clothes. Wonder why? So I find shirts and/or pants for them and tell them to hurry and come read with us. By the time I'm back upstairs Michael and Jason are home from Seminary.
7:40 a.m. We are finally sitting down to read scriptures. As we're reading the little girls mosey on up and put their shoes on. I brush their hair while I try to listen to the scripture-reading and assign the next kid some verses to read.
7:55 a.m. Wow! We're making good time today! We have a family prayer and I send the kids out to the van, except for Jessica who can't find her socks. I rush around to find any socks that might fit her—clean or dirty—and tell her to put them on in the van.
8:02 a.m. And now we're off to pick up Paul's kids.
8:07 a.m. I'm waiting for Paul's kids to get in the van. By the time I have all the kids with me I've loaded my 12-passenger van with 13 people. Will we make it to school before 8:20 so my little ones can get breakfast?
8:16 a.m. We made it. The kids all say their goodbyes to me and head into the school. Benjamin informs me that now it's time for the most boring part of his day: his four-minute ride to school alone with me. Poor guy!
8:22 a.m. Benjamin's at school and I can go home. :-)
8:30 a.m. A leisurely breakfast while I read my emails. Aaaahhh. I just wish the kitchen wasn't such a mess.
8:50 a.m. Time to check my bank accounts, budget sheets, and menus and then make a grocery list. I look at my email first. Oh, crap! I didn't see the homework notice Rachel's teacher sent me last night. Oh well.
9:45 a.m. I want to bake bread today. Should I start it before or after I go to the store? Today I think I'll start it before I go. Oh. But the kitchen is dirty. Why don't the kids rinse out the sink and wipe down the counters and table when they clean up the evening dishes? >:-( I guess I'd better start on the kitchen. And put in a load of laundry, too.
10:25 a.m. I get a call from the school; Lindsey forgot her book for English class. She needs it after lunch; I can take it when I go shopping.
11:00 a.m. The kitchen is clean, I have my list, and I have Lindsey's book. I'd better get going, since the day is flying by and I prefer to have all my running around done before lunch. I wish I'd had time to get the bathroom and living room clean this morning, too. I'll tell the kids to do it when they get home.
11:15 a.m. I'm at the store: 7 gallons of milk—I'll have to come back in a few days and get more; three packages of cereal; four pounds of cheese; a few canned goods (maybe 20 cans); some chicken, beef, hamburger; 30 pounds of fresh veggies; about 15 pounds of fresh fruit; odds and ends. And, oh yeah! I'm out of flour. (How did I let that happen?)
12:15 p.m. I'm in the check-out lane. And I'm starving for lunch!
12:45 p.m. Home again, home again. Can I wait to bring in the groceries until after lunch? It's 40 degrees outside—it'll probably be OK. I go into the kitchen only to realize that there's no bread and I forgot to buy any. Oh, man! Now what'll I have for lunch?
1:10 p.m. I found some good leftovers—I'd rather have that than a sandwich any time. And with lunch inside of me and the kitchen straightened up again I can get back to the groceries. I start hauling them into the house, tripping over Tucker every time I go in or out the door, or up or down the stairs. Dumb dog.
1:20-1:30-ish. I start putting the groceries on the shelves and in the fridge. Shoot! I forgot about the frozen veggies; well, they're probably OK. And, dang. I've got to clean the fridge—the shelves are looking pretty grimy. Another day.
2:15-ish. The groceries are all put away. Now . . . do I start mixing the bread dough or just forget it? A little clock math: If I start mixing it now it'll be ready to start raising around 2:40. Raise for an hour . . . that means I'd have to shape it by 3:40. I won't be back from picking up the kids until 4:00, but that's OK. But then I'll have to start making dinner. What's for dinner? Oven-fried chicken. I guess I won't be baking bread this afternoon.
2:30 p.m. Since I'm not baking I can take a little break—reading, blogging, or maybe re-balancing my accounts since I went shopping this morning. But when I sit down I realize that I'm about to pee my pants. Wow. Have I even been in the bathroom since first thing this morning? Well I've really got to go to the bathroom now. No wonder I wake up thirty times a night—I'm making up for what I miss during the day.
3:00 p.m. Time to go get the kids. I get to the school by . . .
3:10 p.m. Right on time! And I wait. And wait.
3:25 p.m. Everybody in? All seven of my kids? The DeArmann's? Good. Let's go. We drive off and take Jacob and Alyssa home. Then we turn around and go get Benjamin from his school. He's in the van by 3:50.
4:00 p.m. We're home! Time to start issuing orders: "Change out of your school clothes . . . and put them away! Meet me back in the kitchen so I can boss you around. Find your library books—tonight's library night. Clean the living room. Your bedroom is a wreck—clean it!"
4:20 p.m. Now I can get started on dinner. What to have with fried chicken? We'll go the KFC way and have mashed potatoes and a salad. Maybe a hot veggie. As I work on dinner, kids periodically come up to talk to me about school, about scouts, or ask where to put the paper they found in the living room. They throw field-trip notes at me to be signed, or important school notes that I'm supposed to read. They still haven't gotten the message that I really can't read or sign papers when my hands are covered with flour and chicken-goo.
5:00 p.m. I wonder when Bruce will get home. I wonder, why does it take so dang long to make dinner every night? Hmmmm. Two whole chickens to be breaded and baked, a big salad, a 2-quart pot full of mashed potatoes . . . and do I really want a cooked veggie that badly? Why does it take so long?
6:00 p.m. At last! The kids have cleared and set the table, dinner's ready . . . where's Bruce? I save him a plate, we have a prayer, and dig in. When I sit down I realize that I'm totally exhausted.
6:10 p.m. The kids have just about finished eating. Why does it take two hours to cook dinner and ten minutes to eat it? And now Bruce is coming in. I sit with him and finish my dinner while he eats his.
6:30 p.m. I call the assigned children to clear the table and wash the dishes tonight. "And please wipe the table and counters when you're through. And don't forget to wash the pans." I also send the rest of the kids to finish gathering the library books.
7:15 p.m. The table and counters haven't been washed, but if we don't go to the library now we won't be back by bed time. At least the dishwasher is running. We pile into the van and head off to the library.
7:50 p.m. I've finally rounded up all the kids from the far corners of the library and they're all assaulting me for their library cards (which are always in my wallet for safe-keeping). While I'm trying to check out my books, they come up one by one and hand me their cards. Do I have all of them? And all the kids too?
8:00 p.m. We're in the van and headed back home.
8:10 p.m. "Go get ready for bed!" Bruce and I put on our jammies and collapse on the couch to start a movie. Mistake. We'll never get the kids to bed on time.
8:50 p.m. Well, family prayer is only 20 minutes late tonight. Hugs, good-nights, and send the kids to bed. Start the movie again.
9:00 p.m. Half of the kids are out of bed watching our movie with us. Do we fight it or ignore it? We make a half-hearted attempt to send them back to bed.
9:25 p.m. I've fallen asleep in front of the movie.
9:45 p.m. Bruce turns off the movie and we all go to bed. Why is it that taking out my contacts and brushing my teeth wake me right up? And now I'm thinking over the day. My room is a mess; I washed that laundry but never even dried it; I didn't work on that sewing project.
Did I get anything done today?
10:00 p.m. I say my prayers and lie down. Oh, it feels good to be in my bed; it's almost worth being really tired just for this. I start reading my book.
10:09 p.m. I'm asleep with my book on my face. Maybe getting ready for bed doesn't wake me up so much after all.
10:12 p.m. Put away my book; turn off my lamp; kiss Bruce good night. Is this the first kiss we've had all day? Still . . . just a kiss tonight, please.
10:15 p.m. Sleep, sweet sleep.
11:50 p.m. Got to go to the bathroom. My bladder must be the size of a grain of salt!
2:30 a.m. Bathroom . . . again?!
OK. I don't do exactly this every single day. On the days that I don't have a major shopping trip I might do this instead: Run to the store for the two things I forgot the day before; actually bake the bread; do some sewing that I'd promised to do for a friend. Some days I teach piano lessons; go to Relief Society meetings; drive kids to various activities. Sometimes I squeeze in time to run errands for other family members. Sometimes I can blog too. :-)
Twenty-four hours in the life of Loralee North.
But first I'm going to gripe about my laundry again. You know, I made up a list of the clothes we would use in a week—if we were nice people who changed our clothes every day, instead of sleeping in them and wearing them the next day: 7 shirts each (70 shirts), 2-3 pairs of pants each (50 pants), 7 pairs of socks (140 socks), 7 pairs of underwear (70 underwear), 2 towels each (14 towels). I didn't include Sunday dresses, or dish-towels and rags, or floor-mats that the dog threw up on. Then I figured out how much stuff could go into one load of laundry, and came up with 16 loads of laundry a week. From sorting, to washing, to folding, that translates into 32 hours of laundry a week! A part-time job. No wonder I'm always drowning in dirty laundry!
Anyway . . . ahem! A day in my life:
2:30 a.m. I get up to use the bathroom. This has got to be leftover from all those pregnancies. I don't even really have to go that badly.
5:20 a.m. Do I really have to go to the bathroom again? Probably not. I think I'm just aware that my boys have to get up for early-morning Seminary now. They get themselves up, but I wake up anyway.
5:56 a.m. I'm awake again—or did I ever really go back to sleep? Bruce has to get up soon.
6:00 a.m. Now the alarm is going off for Bruce to get up. Can I sleep for another hour?
7:00 a.m. No, there really is no rest for the weary. Time to get the kids up for school. I go to their rooms and flip the lights on. "Time to get ready for school!" I sweetly croon. (Really! I usually do say this very nicely; it's just with the light-switch that my cruel nature shows through.) I also turn on all the lights in the house so that my carpool boy knows we're awake and doesn't go back home.
7:08 a.m. Tucker's barking; Benjamin must be here. I let him in and check to see if all the kids are out of bed.
7:12 a.m. I go get dressed for the day.
7:20 a.m. Brandon, Ryan and Lindsey are dressed and in the kitchen. I send Lindsey to hurry her sisters along—it doesn't usually work.
7:25 a.m. "Everyone grab your scriptures and get into the living room; it's time to read!" I go down to see how the girls are doing. Kaylie is dressed and getting her shoes on. Rachel is sitting on her bed with her shirt on, but no pants; she's reading a book or coloring. Jessica is still in bed. When I ask why they're not ready they say they can't find their clothes. Wonder why? So I find shirts and/or pants for them and tell them to hurry and come read with us. By the time I'm back upstairs Michael and Jason are home from Seminary.
7:40 a.m. We are finally sitting down to read scriptures. As we're reading the little girls mosey on up and put their shoes on. I brush their hair while I try to listen to the scripture-reading and assign the next kid some verses to read.
7:55 a.m. Wow! We're making good time today! We have a family prayer and I send the kids out to the van, except for Jessica who can't find her socks. I rush around to find any socks that might fit her—clean or dirty—and tell her to put them on in the van.
8:02 a.m. And now we're off to pick up Paul's kids.
8:07 a.m. I'm waiting for Paul's kids to get in the van. By the time I have all the kids with me I've loaded my 12-passenger van with 13 people. Will we make it to school before 8:20 so my little ones can get breakfast?
8:16 a.m. We made it. The kids all say their goodbyes to me and head into the school. Benjamin informs me that now it's time for the most boring part of his day: his four-minute ride to school alone with me. Poor guy!
8:22 a.m. Benjamin's at school and I can go home. :-)
8:30 a.m. A leisurely breakfast while I read my emails. Aaaahhh. I just wish the kitchen wasn't such a mess.
8:50 a.m. Time to check my bank accounts, budget sheets, and menus and then make a grocery list. I look at my email first. Oh, crap! I didn't see the homework notice Rachel's teacher sent me last night. Oh well.
9:45 a.m. I want to bake bread today. Should I start it before or after I go to the store? Today I think I'll start it before I go. Oh. But the kitchen is dirty. Why don't the kids rinse out the sink and wipe down the counters and table when they clean up the evening dishes? >:-( I guess I'd better start on the kitchen. And put in a load of laundry, too.
10:25 a.m. I get a call from the school; Lindsey forgot her book for English class. She needs it after lunch; I can take it when I go shopping.
11:00 a.m. The kitchen is clean, I have my list, and I have Lindsey's book. I'd better get going, since the day is flying by and I prefer to have all my running around done before lunch. I wish I'd had time to get the bathroom and living room clean this morning, too. I'll tell the kids to do it when they get home.
11:15 a.m. I'm at the store: 7 gallons of milk—I'll have to come back in a few days and get more; three packages of cereal; four pounds of cheese; a few canned goods (maybe 20 cans); some chicken, beef, hamburger; 30 pounds of fresh veggies; about 15 pounds of fresh fruit; odds and ends. And, oh yeah! I'm out of flour. (How did I let that happen?)
12:15 p.m. I'm in the check-out lane. And I'm starving for lunch!
12:45 p.m. Home again, home again. Can I wait to bring in the groceries until after lunch? It's 40 degrees outside—it'll probably be OK. I go into the kitchen only to realize that there's no bread and I forgot to buy any. Oh, man! Now what'll I have for lunch?
1:10 p.m. I found some good leftovers—I'd rather have that than a sandwich any time. And with lunch inside of me and the kitchen straightened up again I can get back to the groceries. I start hauling them into the house, tripping over Tucker every time I go in or out the door, or up or down the stairs. Dumb dog.
1:20-1:30-ish. I start putting the groceries on the shelves and in the fridge. Shoot! I forgot about the frozen veggies; well, they're probably OK. And, dang. I've got to clean the fridge—the shelves are looking pretty grimy. Another day.
2:15-ish. The groceries are all put away. Now . . . do I start mixing the bread dough or just forget it? A little clock math: If I start mixing it now it'll be ready to start raising around 2:40. Raise for an hour . . . that means I'd have to shape it by 3:40. I won't be back from picking up the kids until 4:00, but that's OK. But then I'll have to start making dinner. What's for dinner? Oven-fried chicken. I guess I won't be baking bread this afternoon.
2:30 p.m. Since I'm not baking I can take a little break—reading, blogging, or maybe re-balancing my accounts since I went shopping this morning. But when I sit down I realize that I'm about to pee my pants. Wow. Have I even been in the bathroom since first thing this morning? Well I've really got to go to the bathroom now. No wonder I wake up thirty times a night—I'm making up for what I miss during the day.
3:00 p.m. Time to go get the kids. I get to the school by . . .
3:10 p.m. Right on time! And I wait. And wait.
3:25 p.m. Everybody in? All seven of my kids? The DeArmann's? Good. Let's go. We drive off and take Jacob and Alyssa home. Then we turn around and go get Benjamin from his school. He's in the van by 3:50.
4:00 p.m. We're home! Time to start issuing orders: "Change out of your school clothes . . . and put them away! Meet me back in the kitchen so I can boss you around. Find your library books—tonight's library night. Clean the living room. Your bedroom is a wreck—clean it!"
4:20 p.m. Now I can get started on dinner. What to have with fried chicken? We'll go the KFC way and have mashed potatoes and a salad. Maybe a hot veggie. As I work on dinner, kids periodically come up to talk to me about school, about scouts, or ask where to put the paper they found in the living room. They throw field-trip notes at me to be signed, or important school notes that I'm supposed to read. They still haven't gotten the message that I really can't read or sign papers when my hands are covered with flour and chicken-goo.
5:00 p.m. I wonder when Bruce will get home. I wonder, why does it take so dang long to make dinner every night? Hmmmm. Two whole chickens to be breaded and baked, a big salad, a 2-quart pot full of mashed potatoes . . . and do I really want a cooked veggie that badly? Why does it take so long?
6:00 p.m. At last! The kids have cleared and set the table, dinner's ready . . . where's Bruce? I save him a plate, we have a prayer, and dig in. When I sit down I realize that I'm totally exhausted.
6:10 p.m. The kids have just about finished eating. Why does it take two hours to cook dinner and ten minutes to eat it? And now Bruce is coming in. I sit with him and finish my dinner while he eats his.
6:30 p.m. I call the assigned children to clear the table and wash the dishes tonight. "And please wipe the table and counters when you're through. And don't forget to wash the pans." I also send the rest of the kids to finish gathering the library books.
7:15 p.m. The table and counters haven't been washed, but if we don't go to the library now we won't be back by bed time. At least the dishwasher is running. We pile into the van and head off to the library.
7:50 p.m. I've finally rounded up all the kids from the far corners of the library and they're all assaulting me for their library cards (which are always in my wallet for safe-keeping). While I'm trying to check out my books, they come up one by one and hand me their cards. Do I have all of them? And all the kids too?
8:00 p.m. We're in the van and headed back home.
8:10 p.m. "Go get ready for bed!" Bruce and I put on our jammies and collapse on the couch to start a movie. Mistake. We'll never get the kids to bed on time.
8:50 p.m. Well, family prayer is only 20 minutes late tonight. Hugs, good-nights, and send the kids to bed. Start the movie again.
9:00 p.m. Half of the kids are out of bed watching our movie with us. Do we fight it or ignore it? We make a half-hearted attempt to send them back to bed.
9:25 p.m. I've fallen asleep in front of the movie.
9:45 p.m. Bruce turns off the movie and we all go to bed. Why is it that taking out my contacts and brushing my teeth wake me right up? And now I'm thinking over the day. My room is a mess; I washed that laundry but never even dried it; I didn't work on that sewing project.
Did I get anything done today?
10:00 p.m. I say my prayers and lie down. Oh, it feels good to be in my bed; it's almost worth being really tired just for this. I start reading my book.
10:09 p.m. I'm asleep with my book on my face. Maybe getting ready for bed doesn't wake me up so much after all.
10:12 p.m. Put away my book; turn off my lamp; kiss Bruce good night. Is this the first kiss we've had all day? Still . . . just a kiss tonight, please.
10:15 p.m. Sleep, sweet sleep.
11:50 p.m. Got to go to the bathroom. My bladder must be the size of a grain of salt!
2:30 a.m. Bathroom . . . again?!
OK. I don't do exactly this every single day. On the days that I don't have a major shopping trip I might do this instead: Run to the store for the two things I forgot the day before; actually bake the bread; do some sewing that I'd promised to do for a friend. Some days I teach piano lessons; go to Relief Society meetings; drive kids to various activities. Sometimes I squeeze in time to run errands for other family members. Sometimes I can blog too. :-)
Twenty-four hours in the life of Loralee North.
Check this out:
