An Hour In A Day

5:30pm: I drive up to my house, weaving through excitedly bouncing kids, and a trotting dog, who is barking her welcome at me as I arrive home from a long day at work.

5:35pm: Kiss my kids, the hubs and the pups, kick off my shoes, and rush up the stairs to prepare dinner for four.

5:40pm: Kids come running into the kitchen, finished with their outdoor play. 4 year old is frantically chatting while setting up her stool so she can observe my dinner-making process.

5:45pm: Two year old is running circles around my body as I shift and sway from countertop to stove, to fridge to cupboard, and back to the countertop once more. He stops running and wraps his arms and legs around my calf. I now have a permanent 30lb weight on one leg.

6:00pm: "Dinner's almost ready! Can you please get the drinks ready and set the table?" I call out to my husband as I tuck my hands into a pair of ragged oven mitts. The children rush to the dinner table and sit with hands folded.

6:10pm: I call to my hubby again, "DINNER is ready, can you PLEASE get the drinks!?" I shake the oven mitts off my hands and rush to the porch, to find the hubs chatting with a neighbour on the front lawn. I shake my head and prepare the drinks and set the table. The kids are now chanting for drinks, their voices getting louder and louder with each repetition. "milk! Milk! MILK!"

6:15pm: I plate the dinner and place each meal in the appropriate spot at the table. As my husband's plate hits his spot, he swirls into his seat, ready to demolish the food in front of him. I begin the tedious task of encouraging my kids to eat their food. "Take 3 bites before you have a sip of your drink please."

6:20pm: The hubs has gobbled down his entire plate of food, I have eaten 1/4 of my meal, and my kids have managed to eat 1-2 bites each. "Take 3 bites, and not another word until you do please." I mutter to my chatty 4 year old, who is altering from singing a song in a high-pitched squeeky voice, to giving an intimate play-by-play of a story to which I cannot follow.

6:25pm: My two year old has taken his third bite of his dinner and spit it onto the floor where my dog eagerly scurries to goggle up the waste. "Time out." I say in a firm voice, and shuffle him to his time out spot.

6:30pm: I've finished my dinner, and am clearing my dishes while hubby supervises the children, who have almost finished half of their meals. I drag my feet to the washroom and begin to run the bath. As I squeeze bubbles into the warm water, I hear a scream from the other room, "NO BATH TIME. NOO!!"

Only an hour until the youngest is off to bed, and still so much to do...

My little dinner helper, all suited up in her chef hat

Linking up with the super-fabulous listmaster for Monday Listicles
And also joining Mothering Moments for her clever little meme An Hour In A Day

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