Ancient History

Follow Me?



Today I ran the dishwasher and completed two and a half loads of laundry. I changed a few diapers, fed six kids their breakfast, two kids their lunch, and one baby milk made by my body.

I call those milky meals Midnight Snacks 1,2, and 3, Breakfast 1, 1.5, 2, 3, 3.27, and Lunch 1, 1.1, 1.5, 1.854, and 2.

Lunch 3 will begin after fitful and pointless Newborn Nap #22 of the day.

I drove four children safely to their school with packed lunches and properly completed homework in their backpacks. They wore seasonal coats and only one boy had a hole in his pants—right knee.

I made my bed and encouraged a toddler to make hers.

A pile of papers to read, sign, and return awaits my attention. Important matter are left in my care, things like granting permission to visit a museum dedicated to choo-choo trains. I must also carefully consider a proposal to buy slices of pizza for lunch on March Fridays. I think I will do it.

Midday, I sent small children outside to harvest fresh air and sunshine. I joined them briefly, between Newborn Naps #18 and 19. It’s beautiful, near 70 degrees, with a warm wind blowing from the direction of everywhere.

The kids sat in a bed of wood chips side by side, digging the dirt underneath. They were barefoot. I asked what they were doing.

“We are going to make a castle.”

I considered their plan to make a castle out of dry dirt on a windy day, but didn’t say anything to discourage them. Instead, I left them with a very deep thought:

“That dirt seems really dirty, guys.”

They didn’t care.

They had full stomachs, slip-off shoes, and a mommy who would be inside waiting with liquid soap that smells like vanilla and a pink hand towel.

20 comments to Accounting

Leave a Reply

You can use these HTML tags

<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>