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“Where’s my wrestling stuff?”
“I don’t know, Warrick! I wasn’t the last one to wear it.”
“Mom, she’s looking at me!”
“Where are my shoes? Mom, I still can’t find my wrestling gear and we have to leave in five minutes!”
“What’s for dinner? I’m hungry now, can I have a snack?”
“She’s breathing on me!”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Mom, I need to go NOW!”
“Eeww, we’re having casserole tonight? I hate that stuff.”
“Be still and know I am God.” Yeah right! Five kids, three cats, extra-curricular activities, self-employed from home, and I’m meant to find time to be still before Him! All these thoughts rush through my mind as I chivvy five kids to the van, to get the oldest to his wrestling practice.
“One, two, three, four, fi… Wait, where’s Warrick?”
“There he is. Hey slow poke, hurry up!”
Warrick darts from the house, trailing his wrestling gear behind him; shoots into the van and slams the door.
Later on, I get all five home again. Terry, who generally works from home, is back after spending a rare day off-site. The hated casserole is in the oven, filling the house with the rich aroma of beef.
“Mom, she kicked me.”
“Did not! I pushed you.”
“Oh, Mom by the way, I have this science project to do, and it’s due tomorrow!”
Why do they wait for last possible second? Now we have to pull a miracle out of our hats with nothing more than detergent, rubber bands and paper clips!
Dinnertime goes off with the usual spills. The boys make disgusting underarm noises, which cause them to dissolve into tears of laughter, and their sisters to wrinkle their noses in mock disgust. Terry eggs the boys on, and later performs his “One Man Daddy Act” to the delight of the family. The phone rings but goes unanswered. This is our time — no one intrudes upon this.
Baths and the sweet savour of splashing Mom, and the cat brave enough, or stupid enough to venture into “child land” follow homework.
Finally, Terry and I pray with our five rambunctious angels, and put them to bed with warnings of dire warnings of tar and feathering if they stray from the mattress.
Thank God, that before the tumult of the day began; I sat down with my Bible and my notebook, and listened to the sweet whisper of my Father, as He ministered to me in the quietness of my living room, that is the hub of our home.
Last thing at night, just as I drift off to sleep, Terry leans over me, kisses me gently on the cheek and whispers, “Good night honey. Sleep well, so we can be ready to do it all again tomorrow!”
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