There is a reason Monday is called Monday. That's a stupid sentence and the reason they call it Monday really has nothing to do with how awful the day can be. But still, there's a friggin' reason folks.
A while back, shortly after Tristan was born if I can remember at all (perhaps while I was still preggers), it dawned on me that some days were days that I was able to get stuff done. I could clean the house, do the laundry, bake the bread, and so on. I could be SuperMom.
And then there were the other days.
Those days were just "Survival Days." (And, for the record, I am not a fan of the tv show Survivor, never have been, never will be) If you're a stay at home mom, and especially if you're a homeschooler, you know what I'm talking about. Some days are just "Survival Days" and, during bad times, they can turn into "Survival Weeks" (awful vacations with relatives?), and so on.
Today has started off as a "Survival Day" so join with me as I count the ways:
Survival of the Homesteader & Homeschooler: This one gets lumped into two categories. Our hatching eggs did not hatch. Today ought to have been the magic day. We had pretty much given up hope since the gals had seemed to decide surrogacy wasn't for them.
We had gone the route of getting some eggs to hatch because if Mother Nature told the gals to go broody and sit on eggs we felt they deserved a chance to see that through. It also was a good homeschooling lesson about the cycle of life, animal behavior, and so on. Instead we watched as, one by one, 4 of the eggs were broken. Today I took the remaining two out of the nest box. The lesson we must learn from this is that while a hen may go broody that doesn't mean she wants to be a mama and that's ok too.
Survival of the Kitchen: This one comes in two parts. Right now one of those parts is a fart because Jomo the Wonder Gas Dog is laying near by blowing noxious fumes my way. Ironically, their awful stench takes away the next part.
~The Eggs~ The eggs I took out of the nest box I decided I would just cook up for the dogs for breakfast, knowing they were likely too old for us. I cracked them open into my cast-iron skillet and watched as broken yolk blended with the white and turned almost brown poured out. Then the smell began to hit. Not as bad as the usual "rotten egg" smell, but I do believe this was perhaps the TRUE rotten egg smell, not one I've been trained to know via faux scented chemicals. -- Lesson learned, don't do that again. Wash the skillet and get the shells to the compost NOW!
~The Bread~ Ok, this one happened last Wednesday but it was total Murphy's Law and I'm currently baking my first loaf of bread since then, so I thought I would share.
THE APPRAISER (doesn't he deserve all caps?) came out last Wednesday morning. 10am. I was so nervous I actually woke up and took a valium. I also decided, since we needed bread anyway, that I would bake a loaf of bread so that the aroma would entice him to appraise our house at 1 million dollars. ... Ok, maybe just at more than it appraised for when we bought it. My timing was perfect, the bread would come out of the oven while he was here.
He's climbing up into the attic when I hear a rustling in the kitchen. I turn around to see it filled with smoke, Justin holding the 1/2 burnt, 1/2 raw loaf of bread and exclaiming "who turned the oven up to 500 degrees?!?" ............ ok ...........
The chickens got the bread, the appraiser got a laugh (said it smelled like his wife's cooking), and I learned a lesson - THAT is why people use those fake scented Glade candles.
(For the record, I DID have a pot of vanilla, cinnamon, and cloves simmering on the stove top .. I just think the burnt bread aroma overwhelmed it)
Survival of lettuce: We broke down and picked up a few plants at Lowe's this weekend. Two Romaine lettuce plants, one 6-pack of Red Leaf lettuce, and two leek plants. Naturally, the temperatures have dropped from low 70's to upper 30's-mid 40's and rainy. The Romaine & the leeks seem to be doing fine. The Red Leaf isn't happy. Picky damn Red Leaf lettuce.
Survival of my ankle: I can't remember if I told you, but a little over a week ago I went to bed fine and woke up with a badly bruised ankle. I have no clue how it happened. No injury from earlier that came out as I slept. I was 100% sober when I went to bed. Just a mystery.
Anyway, the way to heal an injured ankle is, apparently, NOT climbing up on ladders, crouching in catcher position, and doing all the things I did while we tried to finish fixing up the house some. Ankle is still bothering me over a week later. Yesterday we went and picked up some Arnica pills and some more Arnica gel. I am contemplating a splint. Fun stuff.
Survival of the humans: Ok, maybe not the human race, but at least the humans who live in this house.
I wake up this morning to yelling. The boys have already lost the privilege of going to play with our other homeschooling friends this afternoon. -- Seriously, that is what I WOKE UP TO.
The boys were apparently up very early this morning and have been fighting non-stop. Justin gets up earlier than I do since he has to go to work. When I asked him what was going on he informed me how early they had gotten up and also how many times he had already gone in their room because they were fighting. He then kissed me goodbye and left for work.
I threw my head back onto the pillow, groaned, then rolled on out of bed (literally) and announced to no-one that this would be a long day.
Since the time breakfast was over and now the boys have already managed to get sent to their room for fighting -earning them the time-out and their first 'X' of the day. Three 'X's and they go to bed a 1/2 hour early.
And now you know why today is a "Survival Day." For the record, we also have the guy coming out to fix the washing machine. The maker of the machine is paying for the part, we're paying for the service, and the company fixing it is paying for the parts that the guy broke when he was here to examine it.
We're also signing our very last document before closing today. Numbers changed and so we had to resign the form, or sign the new form, whatever. We're not closing today, that day is scheduled for April 5th but there is a chance we might be able to close before then.
I've talked to the contractor and he's planning on coming back out possibly tomorrow evening. A friend (Hi Carole!!) gave us some tile and we're now looking at possibly putting tile in the tiny 1/2 bath off of our bedroom. We also need to discuss all the fun details: when can he start, how long will it take, how much money down as a deposit, and so on.
Now I'm going to drink my warm tea, keep an eye on the oven since the bread is in it, and get back to my chores. The boys are playing on our insanely out of tune piano, banging out their rendition of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' .. which vaguely resembles banging the keys from one end of the piano to the other and back again.
In the time of trying to type that Shannon has been sent to his room yet again. And Tristan is now in here asking for lunch .. as they have both been doing since 9am.
Yup ... it's a "Survival Day."
*** FOLLOW-UP NOTE: 1) It took me three tries to type the word 'note' correctly just now. 2) Apparently I am on a Bad-Bread-Bender. Loaf last week ruined because the oven mysteriously got cranked up to 500 degrees. Loaf today ruined because I forgot to add yeast. .... hope the chickens are hungry ...
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