Busy morning
I've been sick for two weeks now. Stuffy nose mostly. I had a headache and sinus pains in the beginning, but most of that is gone now. Then this morning I woke up without a voice. It hurts to talk, even to whisper. Despite that, I was feeling better than I had been, and I decided to mow the lawn. Dean mowed when we moved in, but a week and a half later it needed it, and there were some parts on the side of the house that he hadn't done at all which had grass growing about two feet tall. I went out to mow, giving the children strict instructions to clean up after themselves when they ate breakfast, keep the gate shut which we put up to keep the dog out of the kids' bedrooms, and watch Owen like a hawk, or else keep him in the backyard.
Two hours later, exhausted, sunburned, covered in grass, blisters on my hands, and only the front and side yards done, I decided to call it quits and finish tomorrow. I came in eager to rest, drink some water, and maybe spend some time with my kids. To my dismay, the first thing I see when I come in through the back gate, is Owen, chewing on Andrew's underwear! The backdoor to the house was standing wide open. I go in the house to find the boys playing a ton of toys all over the kitchen floor. Because Owen doesn't seem to be able to differentiate between his toys and the kids' toys, they are supposed to keep their toys either in their bedrooms or in the basement.
Beyond the toys on the floor I notice little bits of styrofoam dotting the room like snow. There had been a large sheet of styrofoam with which the table had been packed, sitting in the garage waiting to be disposed of. Isaac apparently had decided to bring it in and shred it.
Our brand new large dining room table was strewn with bowls, more bowls than I have children, some half filled with cheerios. More cheerios were spilled out across the table sitting in large puddles of milk. The jug of milk was sitting out getting warm, the lid nowhere to be found. Trash, and checkers pieces were intermingled on the other end of the table along with chunks of apple that had been inexpertly cut up by young hands.
The gate supposedly guarding Owen's access to the children's bedrooms stood wide open. Upon further inspection I found several socks that had been chewed so thoroughly that I they seemed to be more hole than sock. One of Deano's stuffed animals had also been chewed, although not as badly. I guess I should be grateful that he didn't do any more damage.
Wishing to simply sit down and rest, instead I shut the gate, swept the floor, and cleaned up the table. Now I'm off to do the dishes.
How do I teach my children to clean up after themselves, and to be aware of this dog that is now in our lives? How do I teach them that socks don't grow in trees, and they need to keep them away from Owen? How do I get anything done when I constantly have to be watching the dog, and the children. Deano and Andrew at eight and nine years old should be able to manage things with me just outside if needed. Why do things degenerate so badly when I step outside? Why are children so messy? Why are dogs so destructive? Why do I have a dog?
Obviously I should have supervised everyone better. I should have mowed in short increments checking on my children periodically and giving them more specific instructions. Maybe I should have had Deano and even Andrew do some of the mowing. Maybe I should have put the dog on his leash and tied him up outside where I could keep an eye on him. I helped Ezri before I went out, but I probably should have helped Isaac with his breakfast instead of letting him do it on his own. I should have gotten rid of that stytofoam as soon as the table was unpacked.
On the bright side, it's a lot easier to keep my temper when I have no voice to yell. : /
Two hours later, exhausted, sunburned, covered in grass, blisters on my hands, and only the front and side yards done, I decided to call it quits and finish tomorrow. I came in eager to rest, drink some water, and maybe spend some time with my kids. To my dismay, the first thing I see when I come in through the back gate, is Owen, chewing on Andrew's underwear! The backdoor to the house was standing wide open. I go in the house to find the boys playing a ton of toys all over the kitchen floor. Because Owen doesn't seem to be able to differentiate between his toys and the kids' toys, they are supposed to keep their toys either in their bedrooms or in the basement.
Beyond the toys on the floor I notice little bits of styrofoam dotting the room like snow. There had been a large sheet of styrofoam with which the table had been packed, sitting in the garage waiting to be disposed of. Isaac apparently had decided to bring it in and shred it.
Our brand new large dining room table was strewn with bowls, more bowls than I have children, some half filled with cheerios. More cheerios were spilled out across the table sitting in large puddles of milk. The jug of milk was sitting out getting warm, the lid nowhere to be found. Trash, and checkers pieces were intermingled on the other end of the table along with chunks of apple that had been inexpertly cut up by young hands.
The gate supposedly guarding Owen's access to the children's bedrooms stood wide open. Upon further inspection I found several socks that had been chewed so thoroughly that I they seemed to be more hole than sock. One of Deano's stuffed animals had also been chewed, although not as badly. I guess I should be grateful that he didn't do any more damage.
Wishing to simply sit down and rest, instead I shut the gate, swept the floor, and cleaned up the table. Now I'm off to do the dishes.
How do I teach my children to clean up after themselves, and to be aware of this dog that is now in our lives? How do I teach them that socks don't grow in trees, and they need to keep them away from Owen? How do I get anything done when I constantly have to be watching the dog, and the children. Deano and Andrew at eight and nine years old should be able to manage things with me just outside if needed. Why do things degenerate so badly when I step outside? Why are children so messy? Why are dogs so destructive? Why do I have a dog?
Obviously I should have supervised everyone better. I should have mowed in short increments checking on my children periodically and giving them more specific instructions. Maybe I should have had Deano and even Andrew do some of the mowing. Maybe I should have put the dog on his leash and tied him up outside where I could keep an eye on him. I helped Ezri before I went out, but I probably should have helped Isaac with his breakfast instead of letting him do it on his own. I should have gotten rid of that stytofoam as soon as the table was unpacked.
On the bright side, it's a lot easier to keep my temper when I have no voice to yell. : /
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