Funny Friday

I post this for my funny Friday not because it is hilarious, but because I hope to laugh at it someday. Okay, perhaps I should laugh at it now, but for me five days ago, this was NOT funny. I've been encouraged to write it down, to record of the events this Mother's Day mayhem. I hope it also serves purpose to the reader. Maybe you will commiserate. Maybe you will laugh. And, just maybe, you will do both. Whatever this conjures, I hope it brightens your day.

Todd is in Berlin. He left Saturday, which left me alone with my crew for Mother's Day. Prior to his leaving, I had a slight meltdown. I have been feeling overwhelmed with life, motherhood and about a million other responsibilities. Each day, it felt is as if I had Gumby limbs, each being stretched in a different direction, each required to accomplish a different task. You know that rope people talk about being at the end of? Well, let's just say the thread that I had been clinging to broke a long time ago. I was screaming for reinforcements, for a weekend recharge. I found myself complaining to my other half who gets to come home from work every day blissfully happy to see the five angels who are just as ecstatic to see him. Never mind the unkempt, sleep-deprived, grumpy pile of goo in the corner. Warning: Keep your distance from it--she just might bite!

Mother's Day started out just dandy. Though I was up making homemade berry bread for my mom until midnight the night before, and aside from the fact that I didn't sleep more than two hours that night, I really was delighted to see the efforts my children made to bring me breakfast in bed at 7 a.m. all on their own. They even came in singing "Happy Mother's Day to you". Their cards and homemade gifts definitely brought a smile to my face and it warmed my heart to feel the love they have for me. I don't know how it is in your house, but in mine the feel-good moments like this don't seem to last for very long. Shortly after this joyful scene, we all started to go, nay fall, downhill very fast.

After eating my breakfast, I started putting together the lasagna that I was supposed to make for my family's Mother's Day dinner after church. We were also going to celebrate all the May birthdays (there are 4) while we were there, so I was trying to work on wrapping/finishing gifts. We were going to have to leave immediately after church to get there on time, so I knew everything needed to be ready to go.

I normally have an extra pair of hands, but knowing I was on my own this Sunday morning, I started earlier than usual to get kids bathed and prettied for church. I should also mention that I have a primary class to teach, so between baths I was reading up on the lesson and making handouts. After the kids were all ready, I took a glance at the clock and realized I had about 45 minutes to have myself ready. I left the kitchen in the eruption of pots, pans and flour that it was and retreated to my room. As I was getting ready, Todd called and wanted to talk to everyone. As I wedged the phone between my ear and my shoulder, my hands were busy finishing my hair and makeup. Towards the end of our conversation, I notice Andrew and Colby running into my room with caked-on soap all over their hands. Then they proceed to rub the soap, making a swirly, sticky, messy design all over my sink.

Ten minutes until church. I get off the phone, yell at the boys to get their shoes on and stop making a mess, resign myself to the fact that my hair will only be half-done and start to gather everything for church. Diaper bag, toys, snacks, blanket, burp cloth, diaper, wipes, sippy cup, lesson manual, scriptures--you know the garb.

I head toward the door, arms full of baby and gear until I stopped short as I happened to glance at the hallway bathroom doorknob. It, too, was covered in the familiar caked-on soap that made its debut in my bathroom minutes earlier. Arg! I had to drop everything (placed Baby Ty gently) on the ground, grab a washcloth and once again clean up the soapy mess, all the time spitting phrases like "Are you serious, boys?! What are you thinking?! What is all of this mess?! Who did this?! Get your shoes on NOW!" I get the bathroom doorknob clean and open it.

Mess No. 3 stared at me. Toothpaste had been squeezed all over the bathroom counter. The same words (see above) came spewing out of my mouth, only this time at a higher decibel level. I grab some tissue and start cleaning up. The boys decided at this point that self-preservation was pretty darn important and were safely hiding away someplace. Kendra and Alli quietly observed the entire situation from a safe distance, fearing for their brothers' lives and Ty was hanging onto my leg, begging me to pick him back up.

"Mom, you need to see what the boys did in their room," Kendra says.

More?

Seriously?

I open the boys door to find Mess No. 4. No question it trumped the other three. In the middle of the room was a giant bottle of lotion, the kind with a squirt top. The entire room was covered with globs of lotion. Little hands had smeared it all over their dresser and little feet had ground it into the carpet. Feet, I might add, that still did not have their church shoes on. I envisioned them pounding their fist on top of the squirty part over and over and over, watching the squirts of lotions fly every which way because, I am sure, it was oh so much fun.

(Note: I apologize to those who are reading this who may have also been the unlucky ones walking to church, just outside my house, when this occurred. May your ears recover and may you please not judge the crazy mom alone on a Sunday morning with five hooligan kids.)

Again with the decibel level. I exploded and decided I could handle no more. I locked myself in the bathroom and took a few deep breaths. I grabbed some wet washcloths, found the hiding culprits and threw the rags at them, ordering them to clean it up!

As I pushed the stroller to church, I continued to scold the boys for their choices, jabbing them with a dose of guilt that only a mother can, telling them that they made these bad choices on MY DAY! Mother's Day! I usually like to enter church with a smile of contentment on my face, our family a picture of perfection. Uh-uh. Not happening today.

Church had started, but we still made it for the opening song, though we had to sit in the overflow section. I looked forward to taking the sacrament and feel the peace of the Atonement. Wasn't going to happen. I put Ty down to crawl just as we concluded the sacrament hymn, only to notice poop seeping through his pants. I quickly rush him to the bathroom, remove his entire outfit and realize that I need to go back home for a clean change of clothes. Luckily Kendra, my right arm, was there to also be my legs and I sent her home for more wipes and a clean outfit.

Somehow I got through my primary class lesson and made it to the special Mother's Day edition of Relief Society, though I spent the majority of the hour in the halls with my disruptive 11-month old. I took a moment, mustered some energy and made a commitment to myself to be better the rest of the day. There were some bad run-ins, but no way was I going to let it ruin my Mother's Day. After church, I gathered my kids and stepped outside to head home. It was pouring rain. Of course it was. I don't recommend running through the rain in heels with five kids in tow. I'm sure we were a sight to all those smart ones who had brought cars to church.

It is days like this that I look heavenward and say, "Really?" It is then that I swear in response I hear a faint chuckle and I'm reminded once again how trivial these moments are. I'm also reminded that Mother's Day isn't about mothers at all. It is about children, for it is they who made me a mother.

So for now I'm grateful to have the poopy bums, incessant messes and yes, even the ground-in lotion, because it means I have five gifts from God who challenge and train me every single day, provided I don't kill them before they reach puberty. If I will allow them, they will train me to be Godlike. Oh, how far I have to go! One day I will not have these little ones near. I better take what "training" they have to offer now because I am running out of time. . . .

Just give me strength throughout this blissful process.