Diary of a Wimpy Mom

6 am... I am stealthy and quiet. No one knows I am awake. I use the bathroom and consider the cost of the flush. Will it wake them? I take the risk, a little nervously. Coffee is done brewing. The cupboard is booby-trapped again; a saucer perched precariously on top of a bowl on top of another glass, in front of the cup I need. Kids have put dishes away again. Or maybe the husband. I don't have time to decide. With the hands of a surgeon, (a shaky, coffee-withdrawn surgeon), I carefully extract my mug.

7 am... A whole hour of quiet. My coffee and I have read a little, prayed a little, written a little, stared into space a lot. The sum of it is, I am on top of my day. For this one hour; 60 brief minutes, I have done whatever I wanted to, completely in my time frame, and without interruption. I feel like a grown up, and I feel free. I am confident and full of faith that God, my coffee and I can handle anything that comes our way today. I stare into space some more.

8 am... Good morning to my sweet little angels! I greet their cherubim faces with smiles and hugs and tell them how beautiful they look this morning. And the boy is handsome and strong, of course. And hungry. He pulls me away from my morning reverie with a demanding, "Breakfast!" Dutifully, I make it.

9 am... Time for school. This is the portion of my day when I recognize that I am clearly not in control of these people. One student loves to correct me, "Is that really how you spell that?" Another complains about every assignment, "It's too haa-aard!". One girl throws a huge fit, "I'm not going to do it!" Another disappears randomly for what seems like hours, "I was in the bathroom". One preschooler colors on every single piece of paper in the room while the other throws toys all over. I consider it a successful day if I am at least in control of myself. I imagine putting up an industrial sign that says, "_____ days without a Mommy blowup"...but I won't. Why not? "BECAUSE I SAID SO!" That's why.

3 pm... The day is a blur, but I vaguely recall lessons in history, anger management, science, home-economics, grammar, conflict resolution, spelling, puppy training, math, hygiene, reading, putting shoes away, handwriting, shutting doors when not in use (if it's the fridge), or when in use (if it's the bathroom). Recess! More coffee, more staring into space.

6 pm... Thank goodness for Daddy. The fact that he comes home. And helps. And stuff.

8 pm...Clearly no longer eloquent (assuming I ever was), the mission now is clear. Get these children to bed. I have spent it all today and am running on empty. We read and pray together and tuck our sweet ones in. Hopeful and dubious, we tiptoe to our designated meeting place and ready ourselves to field the last attempts at stalling, avoiding, and manipulating bedtimes. This is not a drill.

10 pm... A jubilant second wind sweeps through our living room. It is done...another day of parenting. Now I can again do whatever I want, completely in my time frame, without interruption. I want to go to bed.