What I do all day. . . or at least part of it

The following takes place between 4:30 p.m. and 8:02 p.m.



Let's see. . . picked up crayons all over the floor in the study. Turned attention to "Zolos" building toy all over the floor. Picked up Zolos. James empties the crayons I just picked up. Pick up crayons again. James now empties Zolos. Put crayons out of reach and pick up Zolos for a second time. Find James a few minutes later in our bathroom, where he has been playing in the toilet. Remove James from bathroom, wash his and my hands and return to mess in study.

Realize James has been awfully quiet, and rush to find him sitting on Caroline's sink, which he has filled with toys that he is now dousing with water. Get James down and proceed to clean up bathroom.

Find James a few minutes later in his room, coloring all over himself, his bed, and his chair with a burgundy marker. (Washable, thank goodness). Take marker away. Take James downstairs.

Older kids are painting suncatchers. James wants to paint too. I let him paint on paper with washable paint. He makes several nice pictures and then begins painting himself. He has been undressed down to a diaper for the painting endeavor and has now painted his entire stomach, part of his head and both his hands.

Remove James from painting area. Escort him to the tub where he can be hosed down. Will return later to scrub paint ring left in tub.

Clean up paints and begin dinner. Nothing fancy tonight--Scott is working late so Kraft Mac and Cheese is on the menu. Caroline comes into the kitchen and wants to help. She pulls a chair to the stove where water is beginning to boil. This makes me nervous but I keep a close eye on her. Colin enters the kitchen and declares how unfair it is that she always gets to help with cooking since I won't let the two of them teeter on the chair together over a pot of boiling water. James attempts to climb chair to join Caroline and access boiling water while Colin complains. Remove James from chair. While I review the finer points of kitchen safety with the older children, James dumps box of uncooked mac and cheese on floor, then begins to scream.

Older kids enlisted to pick up hundreds of uncooked macaroni noodles. James wanders off, presumably to the living room. Upon closer examination 5 minutes later I find James in our bedroom, having decorated his freshly bathed self, along with my antique embroidered dresser scarf, with my recently opened (and discontinued) favorite lipstick and an orange gel pen found on the dresser. Remove dresser scarf to a bowl of sudsy water, where marks show some promise of coming out. Lipstick is a goner. Scrub James with wet wipes, which he protests heartily.

Return to kitchen with James and water is boiling. Colin and Caroline have finished retrieving spilled noodles. Open new clean box of Kraft and dinner is on. Kids wash hands, help with making smoothies out of some fruit that needs to be used. James screams for strawberries and "o-ark" (yogurt) while we explain repeatedly that they will be used to make the smoothies and will be ready soon. Our message falls on deaf ears. Blender is on its last legs but smoothies get made and finally, everyone sits down to dinner.

Dinner ends and older kids go out to jump on the trampoline. James wants to go too. Caroline runs to the back porch to tell me something, at which point we discover non-washable suncatcher paint on her brand new bathing suit. I strip Caroline and rush the suit to the kitchen sink where fortunately, most of the paint comes off. Meanwhile, Caroline brings a live ladybug into the house where of course it escapes. It flies behind the shade on the back door. While I scrub paint off her swimsuit, she constructs a tower of two floor pillows with a chair on top in an attempt to retrieve the fugitive ladybug. Colin, with his usual disregard for his little sister, bursts in the back door to tell me something and knocks her down. I will get the ladybug, I tell them both.

Run out to retrieve James from the trampoline, where Colin has abandoned him. Take James upstairs, where he suddenly protests having his teeth brushed, his diaper changed, and virtually every part of his bedtime routine except having me read an Elmo book with a built in hand puppet. Tuck him in, return downstairs to discover Caroline has made another attempt at catching the ladybug and torn the back door blind in the process. Grit teeth, thankful that it is only a temporary blind anyway, and breath sigh of relief that good drapes and sheers are intact. Give the children permission to watch Power Rangers. Count minutes until Scott returns home.

Scott arrives; the kids zone out in soft glow of a cheesy Power Rangers plotline. Now--to find that ladybug. . .