I shouldn’t be here.
I really, really shouldn’t.
I just came in for a moment, to fix everyone lunch. And fill and refill the big jug o’ juice for all my thirsty kiddos. And then, so they forget all the whip-crackin’ I’ve been doing all morning, place a popsicle in every expectant, and oh-so-dirty, little hand.
And for me to sit here, typing in the beautiful stillness of this empty house while everyone is outside, raking leaves and hauling branches, well that would just be wrong on so many levels.
Especially considering my husband is the hardest worker of all. And I’ve left him to fend for himself.
On our anniversary.
At least tonight holds a lot of promise. A date. Just him and me in my new shoes. And Outback Ste@khouse.
Oh, our poor, new, unsuspecting baby sitter. She sounds extremely well qualified. And doesn’t seem frightened by the prospect of caring for so many children. By herself.
But only time will tell.
My plan is to keep the kids outside all day, bring them in, bathe and feed them, hoping they’ll melt into little, well-behaved puddles on the couch by the time she arrives at 6:30.
Better get back to my rake.