The Dutch Rush

They're Dutch and Life's a Rush

People often ask me “so, what have you been up to?” and while I know it’s just a basic awkward conversation starter, it does get me thinking:

“Good grief, what HAVE I been up to?”

My answer: “Well, that’s a little difficult to explain.” or “Oh, nothing, what about you?”

I mean, you don’t want to freak people out or anything. 

Some days just start out a certain way, and a few hours in, you realize that this is one of those days.

Yeah, well basically, I’ve been having quite a few of those days lately.

You know those days? Things seem to be going along just fine, you wander into the bathroom, and next thing you know, you’re in the shower and remember that you somehow didn’t plan things out very well and you forgot to bring any clean underwear to the bathroom. No problem, you think to yourself, I’ll just turn my old ones inside out and backwards, and that will be so uncomfortable, that I will go straight to my room to put on clean ones. Surely that will remind me to take care of things right away.

Well, unfortunately, on the way out of the bathroom, you find a child who “just coughed”, and ended up puking an alarming amount of…something onto the floor because of their terrible gag reflex. You find many children hovering over the puking child, yelling for mom (seriously? Do they ALL need to yell for mom? Couldn’t there just be a designated yeller?)…a few other children begin to dry heave because they also suffer from gag reflex issues. Naturally, you drop your dirty clothes and towel on the floor to deal with the more pressing issue, yelling the whole time at the dry heavers to leave the scene so as to hopefully avoid more gagging/puking.

As you’re cleaning the floor, you hear another child running through the house yelling something about “have to leave for work soon” and “no clean work clothes” (As a side note, why does “work” only issue a maximum of TWO work shirts? Why.) and so you rush off to help that child find a possibly dampish work shirt to wear…

You turn around to find another child begging you to tell them how to spell “rake”, and then you get into a very confusing conversation about needing a silent “e” to make the vowel say it’s name. Child wonders why the “a” can’t say it’s own name by itself, you explain to them that you have no idea why, but if you ever find the person responsible for creating the spelling of the English language…no wait, they must be dead by now. Never mind.

Of course, this conversation will remind another child that somebody moved the rake, now they can’t find it, etc, and a whole other thing will develop over why the rake was moved, who moved it, and why people under the age of 6 should not play with rakes.

Now it is time to feed people again, and something does feel vaguely unusual in the underwear region, but you really don’t have time to figure out why, because, snack time.

After various rounds of school work with each child, several loads of laundry, the dreaded lunch, and shutting down about 63 arguments over lego heads, you realize it is time to start dinner. But first you run to the bathroom for a quick second, and you realize what happened this morning when you got out of the shower. And you think “Oh yes………. that is why I’ve felt uncomfortable all day.”

It begins to dawn on you that reading Auntie Leila’s helpful post on “what to do when you’re having a bad day” is in order, because, it’s one of THOSE days, except, the day is winding down, must be almost time to put the kids to bed. You look at the clock, and it says 3:38 pm.

OKAY. WHAT is happening.

You think some things to yourself that shouldn’t be said, and you know that it’s time to gear up, you’ve literally got HOURS of chaos and insanity left. Time to reheat that cup of coffee you left in the microwave this morning, and hit it hard for the rest of the day.

So yeah. That’s about what’s been happening around here.

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