Day of Rest

Christopher starts bawling at 5:48 this morning. Paige thinks she can give him a bottle to make him go back to sleep; that works for a few minutes, but then he starts sounding borderline hysterical. So at 6:18, I get on my clothes, slip into my slippers, and rescue the baby from his crib.
I love the little guy dearly, but he’s at a very awkward age (17 months). He’s very mobile and strong, but he gets frustrated because he only knows about eight words and can’t tell us what he wants. Also, he doesn’t watch television, and that’s not helpful. For all you Catholic super-parents out there who turn up your nose at the very thought of “using TV as a babysitter,” even for a few minutes a day, that’s great — now back in your hole.
Sorry, that sounded a little grumpy. Christopher’s older siblings can play by themselves or watch TV while I make breakfast. They are happy, I get to make the food in peace. Everybody wins. But the little guy can’t entertain himself at all. He plays with a toy for a few minutes, and then staggers over to me and starts pulling on my shorts, begging to be picked up. We have done this for many mornings, ever since he started waking up before 6 a.m.

This morning, everyone else gets up around 7:30. Since Christopher is up so early, he will need a morning nap, so we can’t go to church as a family. Paige is the cantor at the 1 p.m. Mass, so I volunteer to take the kids to the 10 a.m. Before we leave, I have time to apply putty to the toy shelves I built for the kids. Finishing touches can be the sweetest parts of a project.
At St. Mary’s, we sit in the balcony, and they only fidget during Father Poumade’s homily. (Don’t worry, Father — it was a good one, but until you begin pitching your texts to the 5-and-under set, Charlie and Anna will not pay attention.) Overall, they were good; an older gentlemen even complimented them on how well-behaved they are.
As a reward, I take them to Krispy Kreme. Yes, I know, they should be good for goodness’ sake, and we’re working on that. For now, the prospect of a custard-filled doughnut is good enough. We pick up a dozen — enough for today and tomorrow — and head home.
Paige has already made lunch, which the kids wolf down so they can get at their doughnuts. She leaves all three kids in my hands for the next three hours. We decide to go to the park near the Potomac.
On the way, we stop by another park to see ducks. There are surprisingly few cars in the parking lot — usually, it’s full on the weekends. Must be the heat, or after the 4th of July, everyone has had their fill of picnics for several weeks. We see ducks, we throw rocks in the water (away from the ducks!), we hop in the car again and go.
I unload the kids’ bikes and put Christopher in the stroller. They ride and I walk through an old train tunnel next to the playground. After swinging, see-sawing, sliding, and sand-playing, we put our gear in the Odyssey and return home.
Through some miracle, I manage to get them all to nap at the same time. Waiting for them to fall asleep, I grab a book and start reading on the couch. Everything is quiet…the living room is so cool, compared to the steamy sunshine outside…I start to drift off…
Clump, clump, clump. Charlie never went to sleep, and I can see it’s hopeless to make him try again. I send him outside. Anna comes out of her room, too. Guess it’s no nap for any of us, except the baby, who is the most important napper.
I start sanding down the shelves, preparing for the paint, while C&A play in the backyard. Paige comes home, and I change clothes to go running. My back is still sunburned from the pool and working outside yesterday, so I wear a full t-shirt and shorts.
When I get water from the rest area, I pause my stopwatch and forget to restart it. A while later, I notice this, and try to estimate how long it’s been so I know when to turn around. My estimate is off, and I end up running for probably 7.5 miles instead of the five I intended. Despite the sunburn, I take the shirt off for the last mile and a half, after wringing it out four times.
By the time I get home, I’m pretty sure I’m dehydrated, so I start guzzling water. Dinner is in an hour, so I start the grill and continue working on the shelves. I push C&A on the swings as Paige makes the rest of the meal, and when the fire is ready, I throw on the meat.
After dinner, it’s time to destroy the rotting planter around the 50-foot tree in our front yard. This should take about 15 minutes. It takes considerably longer because I must kill the 294,091 insects that have taken up residence within and under the planter. Many of them take their revenge by crawling up my leg and biting me, so for a while, I literally have ants in my pants.
Next, I drag the trash and the recycling to the curb. I forgot (?) the diaper pail, so I take that outside, too — it’s a hazmat violation to take out its bag indoors. I clean up all of the carpintery- and kid-related debris from the front of the house. I have to do all of these things quickly because the sky is threatening rain. I haven’t had time to vacuum the Odyssey, which has so much kid debris in it, I would rather not talk about it, so please don’t ask.
When I get inside, I watch Christopher so Paige can finish bathing the other two. Then I help C&A get dressed for bed, brush their teeth, and we pray while Christopher is coaxed into the crib.
My part of the bedtime ritual is done, so I take a quick shower. When I get out, I can hear Christopher frantically crying. By the time I can get myself dressed and pick him up, he’s practically hyperventilating. His sobs subside on my shoulder, and I lay him into bed.
If you’ve read this far, and you’re looking for a point, I’ll try to come up with one. Oh, yes — it’s that I always look forward to summertime during the winter, but by the end of the summer, I don’t mind when it turns cold and I can’t do much outside anymore.