How you do it . . . x 12

This is a question I get a lot. It's a silly question, really, because it implies that I'm doing it right or well or in a way anybody else would want to emulate, when, in reality, I'm just barely scraping by. But, for the inquiring minds who want to know, so they can learn how NOT to do it, here it is, a day in the life of the amazing supermom.

(disclaimer: this is what happens on an ideal day, and does not necessarily represent my together-ness on any actual given day)

A good day begins the night before, so, before I go to bed, I have the following things in order: I have a shirt ironed for my husband to wear to work, a double padded diaper on sk11 (child number 11), 4 diapers for sk12 (3 for night-time feedings, one for next morning), clean diapers for sk 11 and 10 for morning, and the makings of a dry bottle for sk11. If I'm really good, I've got my clothes laid out as well.

Morning is the hardest part of my day. On a typical morning I choose more sleep rather than a shower, so my morning begins with one of the three babies being brought to me, but usually I have two or all three pretty quickly. This is most tricky when sk10 comes first because she wants to nurse, but the new baby gets first dibs. Fairly often, if my big kids are sleeping, I can be found nursing 2 and giving a bottle to a third. I am stretched thin but very happy at these moments (can you say psycho/octomom?).

My husband and I pray briefly before he goes to work. This is a tiny but huge moment of connection between he and I and God and has made a huge difference in our marriage. It is funny, because every day he says, "do you want to pray?" and I say, "I ALWAYS want to pray" and then we do. I think, why not ask if I am ready or just say, "Let's pray." But that's the kind of guy he is, unassuming, preferring me each day. So funny.

Then I try to pull it together enough to go down stairs. I usually delay until at least one big kid comes in (in this context, "big kid" is defined as someone old enough to carry a baby safely down stairs, at this point the line is drawn at sk6, who is almost 8 yrs old, and who, incidentally, carried newborn sk8 to the attic when he was 2.5 and she was 3 days old, 6 itty bitty lbs.) to help me get downstairs. Hopefully I brush my teeth, get fully dressed (days don't go well when I never get out of my jammies) and carry down supplies (the used up morning bottle, my phone, clothing for different babies) and a baby or two.

Breakfast at our house ranges from get your own cereal to home ground whole wheat pancakes, depending on mom's energy level, what supplies are on hand (e.g. do we have milk that is about to go bad), and if there is anywhere we have to go today. If I had a decent night's sleep and we aren't going anywhere, I make breakfast, usually 2-3 times a week. If there is a practice or doctor appointment later, or I'm tired or late coming downstairs, I ask each big kid to get their own and their buddy's breakfast. The oldest 7 can do their own cereal/instant oatmeal, and the two youngest already ate, so there are really only 3 requiring help, and their buddies are the big girls, so it works out ok. (not that the big boys can't help, it just isn't always their instinct as much as the girls)

Sk7 with help from 2 and 9 have breakfast kp (kitchen patrol) duties, getting dishes in the sink and wiping the table down. If supper didn't get cleaned up the night before (which happens) the supper kp people pitch in as well, sk 5 and 8. There are two tables to clean up, because we don't all fit at one.

When that magic is over, in my dreams I walk on the treadmill, with a kid (sk10, the one most likely to try to climb onto the treadmill while I use it) strapped on my back, but that hasn't actually happened yet, so we'll just pretend.

Then we do "family worship." Family worship includes some of the following elements, and sometimes all of them: Worship, lead by sk2 on guitar or sk4 on piano, with or without sk5 on djembe; Bible reading, either from the Bible or Egermeier's Bible Story book (and I frequently reinforce that even though they are Bible "stories", they are true because they are in the Bible); prayer time (one at a time, just me, just someone else, small groups like 'the kids on that couch', partners, buddies); listening to God time, sometimes written down, sometimes not, sometimes not shared; marching orders/pep talk for the day.

Then we have been going into 'group school'. We read our history, poetry, literature, science, from Sonlight curriculum - currently level 6, which works for a range of ages. It is not meant to work for 2nd through 9th, but I have not yet pulled off doing 2 cores without having Barney, Elmo and Martha the talking dog nanny my preschoolers. As it stands,they hang with us till they can't stand holding still and being quiet any longer, then they go play. If they play close by, it becomes a war of the decibels to see who lasts longer, their racket or my weakening vocal chords. If they go upstairs, we engage in covert ops from time to time, checking on their progress as they systematically dismantle the family closet or defile all the toothbrushes or empty previously full toilet paper rolls.

Bunny Trail: While I am not a blanket trainer (teaching small people to stay on a blanket, playing quietly, used by lots of big families, including the Duggars) I have experienced in recent years that small people can learn to be still and quiet(er) for a period of time. We started doing this when sk9 was small, well under a year, and my big kids did not enjoy the torture, as I required him to stay on my lap and still during family worship. But while we hated the process, we were all amazed when he sat still and quiet for an entire wedding. It can be done. Mrs. Duggar did it with twins and a toddler.

Usually there is just a little time between group school and lunch. All the older children (oldest 8) have varying degrees of individual work to get done throughout the day, and use their age-appropriate levels of responsibility to get it done, using the time before family worship and after group school and after lunch to make it happen. Which means, sk1 and 2 need almost no prompting, and 3 through 8 need something between little reminders to being beaten over the head with a 2 by 4 to get it done. (just kidding, no 2 by 4s were harmed in the raising of my children) This is what most of my life feels like it is about. Trying to get people to do their school and chores, to manage their time, to understand priorities and consequences, grrrr.

We have several 'helps' in place: chore charts, reward system, built in accountabilities (for example, sk3 has to help sk7 with math, neither can mark it off till it is done, so the big kid helps the little kid to be responsible, and vice versa), little privileges given to those who are done, and consequences of good things that don't happen or bad things that do for those who don't finish in time. But the battle is mine, it is agonizing, and exhausting, and I do not love it. It is, of course, penance for a lifetime of procrastination on my part. I deserve it. I will bear my cross, but between you (the world wide web) and me, I do not love it.

Sometime in the afternoon, children come to me and require me to do their spelling or phonics or whatever subject with them, so they can check it off their lists. I have tried having a more rigid schedule, but it seems to work better to have them come to me when they are ready. If two or three or four need me at the same time, I ask, 'is this all you have left?' and do the people farthest down on their list.

All of the children also have an item on their chart that says, simply, "HELP MOM." This is my catch-all. They ask, how can I help you mom, and I say go scrub the toilets with your fingernails, go wash the poopy diapers, do the dishes, hoist the mainsail, swab the deck, avast me hearties, aargh! Actually, I get to give them an age appropriate task that helps me out in a pinch and gives them the appearance of the attitude of helpfulness, or of a child who will help once only per day and that with the requirement of an imminent reward. (Mom: hand me that thing Kid: is THIS my help-mom? Mom: No, this is just part of you helping mom, you help mom all the time, this doesn't count as the only time you will be helpful today!)

Supper is the bane of my existence. (Oh, I forgot to mention lunch. Lunch is worse than breakfast - help yourself and your buddy - ramen noodles, sandwiches, leftovers, or on a rare day I make a round of bean burritos.) I know supper will happen each day, but mostly it sneaks up on me while I'm in the thick of getting the most resistant to finish school or am basking in the freedom required to do a little laundry or talk on the phone or fall asleep nursing on the couch. But inevitably breakfast, lunch and whatever snacking happens (woe to anyone who dares leave a box of cereal out, only to watch it disappear before our very eyes) wears off and people get hungry for supper, and Dad comes home from work and everyone has this expectation that there will be new food, not recycled leftovers, available for consumption by the masses.

So, ironically, after a day's penance for a life's procrastination, I again try to pull something delicious, cheap, healthy, and simple out of my butt, with sides, no less. Sometimes I pull it off. Sometimes I invent something horrible and pay for it by eating it for my lunch for a week. But we have a number of relatively simple standbys that are ready to be thrown together quickly, helped by having some precooked frozen packages of chicken, turkey, and ground beef in the freezer waiting to become part of a pot of chili, red or white, soup, or a casserole. Most people eat most of what I make, and I'm usually willing to let them make themselves a sandwich after trying what we're all having, because odds are, we don't have quite enough anyway.

After supper I am often too tired to make people clean up, and we make the nightly decision whether to sacrifice our children to the gods of electronic entertainment for the sake of world (or household anyway) peace or to actually parent them.

And then there is bed. On a good day, we read to everyone after teeth are brushed. On a really good day, we tuck them all in. And when we're feeling especially convicted, or when they are nervous because of a neighborhood fire or a movie we shouldn't have let them watch, or when we have something heavy on our hearts, or they're sick, we might actually pray with them.

Then we crash. Or do laundry. Or foolishly watch a movie. Or ignore each other while we putz on our various individual electronic devises, usually while nursing, and nodding off.

It's not that impressive, and I left a lot out. If you have questions, you can leave them in the comments, and maybe I'll answer them:) And if you are frightened or disgusted, well, there are lots of other blogs you can read. Lots.

This just in . . . I just saved my eldest daughter's life. She had a piece of popcorn husk lodged between two molars, down below the gum line, was in tears, Daddy tried to get it out with a knife to no avail, and I popped the little sucker out with a toothpick, with tears running down her cheeks. I AM the amazing supermom.