For anyone new to my blog, I homeschool my children, yes, four of the six of them. My oldest is twenty-two and own her own, so five left at home that range from thirteen descending down in age until three years-old. Yesterday, the other child that I have taken in to school was sick and couldn't come to "our school" so I decided that I would make our school day a half day, so we wouldn't get too far ahead of our missing student, the one who keeps us at a reasonable schedule most days. I quickly fell into my old routine of allowing my sweet angels to slumber in their warm beds past nine a.m., while I enjoyed my pumpkin spiced cup of Community coffee, without having to reheat it twelve times until I finally give up in disgust and dump it down the drain. I had just settled down at my laptop determined to get some real work done without the constant interruptions and questions, like the one I just stopped for from my eight-year-old son who walked up and said, "Explain percents, Mom." Now that I'm back, I was all settled and ready for work which is also known as Facebook cruising, so I could begin my day with peace of mind knowing that everyone of my eight hundred friends are off to good starts this morning. But my internet wouldn't connect, so then I was forced to go into a part of my house that is like the white elephant in the room, except this one is upstairs and wears loud clothing. It is a don't ask, don't tell situation and ignorance is bliss, kind of compromise that me and the children have fallen into in the last couple of the three years that we have moved in to our lovely new home. The condition of the upstairs playroom will give me hours of interrupted sleep, which for a woman who hasn't slept through the night in the last thirteen years, is a problem. I decided that I no longered cared and like an ostrich, I stuck my head in the sand and denied that there was a problem...up there. Well, I had to go to see what the problem was with the wireless connection located upstairs.
It was beyond bad, my worse nightmare come to life. Pigs would have moved out!
I woke my children up sweetly and informed them that they could take their spelling tests early and take a half day if they agreed to organize the playroom. There were cheers, arms raised in v's above their heads, jumping, and general praising of my name. They aced their tests and one by one they ran upstairs and began the organization with smug smiles upon their sweet little angelic faces, thinking they had gotten one over on Mom, insert sinister laugh here.
After much bumping, arguing, yelling and some lunch they finally came downstairs and informed me that I was finally allowed to see the finished work! Of course, this came with a bit of a warning. I was informed that since we have so much company and kids through our house and they know how I hate my house cluttered and messy, they also organized the ajoining attic! I was overwhelmed, and I hate to admit that a small tear of pride escaped before they noticed. I ran behind them up the stairs, like I was chasing a blue light special at KMart and was stunned by what I saw, or the absence of what I saw. It was almost bare! There were still some organized buckets of toys, the train table, the desk, bookshelf and the futon put back together, but where had all the rest of the toys gone? We had just went from twenty large tubs of toys, down to about eight. They excitedly showed me how they arranged the attic so they could put the toys in there so they wouldn't have to clean them up anymore! My first thought was to question them if they wanted to get rid of their beds so they wouldn't have to make them anymore, then I let it go...because I realized I was raising geniuses and wondered if they would help me put all the clutter of that hall closet, that I refuse to open anymore, in the attic?