The Best of Seven

The last time I took care of 7 boys for 10 days, the airline we were flying to Hawaii the next week went bankrupt. This time, my cousin's wife passed away, someone got punched in the face, a friend had surgery, and I had to speak and sing in church.

I'm not really sure how I survived this week, but I have to admit my head is still aching.

The daily schedule was a whirlwind of 9 plates of pancakes (half of which wanted peanut butter smeared atop--have you ever tried to smear peanut butter? It is like spreading tar, only worse. I could kill Michael for introducing that to his children! :)

Of course, each pancake needed to be cut with the pizza cutter because only the two oldest of the crew could actually cut their own pancake pieces, (the pizza cutter had to be washed between the peanut-butter-pancake-people and the plain-butter-pancake-people because they didn't want peanut butter on THEIR pancakes). During the pancake parade we'd have a pathetic scripture study, then pile 5 boys into the land cruiser to get to homeschool in Provo, then back to Orem for two boys to go to Scera Park, walk and feed the abandoned dog waiting at my house, back to her house to get two more boys to go back to Provo so the 1st grader could go to Edgemont and his brother could catch the car pool, which I was late for daily.

A little over an hour later, I return to homeschool Cynthia's two oldest boys. We'd recite the preamble, read American history, and Stargirl, then I'd leave them to finish their math, while I ran to pick up the preschooler and the kindergartner.

Time for lunch, so we'd make 5 sandwiches, throw a few carrots at each of them (forget the plates, we've no time for dishes), put McKay's swimming suit on in the car and run to swimming lessons (everyday for 10 minutes) and then to the dentist to reattach the braces that kept falling off Zach. Run home. Do Geography, math, prepositions, and spelling words.

Get back in the car. Pick up one from Orem school, then Provo homeschool, the Provo elementary school and back home. Get boys to basketball practice, scouts, art lessons, babysit friend's baby while she has surgery. Carry the carseat and be so happy I can't have any more babies.

Make dinner and a green smoothie. Pile 7 plates full of food. Call them back when they don't finish and don't take over their plates.

Tape 100 pieces of candy and insert 100 tattoos into the Indiana Jones and Pirates of the Carribbean Valentine cards for four of the boys. Ice McKay's head after the goose-egg forms after running into his brother. Read a few books to the kids. Say 7 prayers, one family prayer. Knock off a huge ice block threatening to destroy the sad person who gets beneath it. When the power goes out for two hours, have fun getting blinded by 7 boys with flashlights. When the power turns on again, soak in Cynthia's bathtub and watch a DVR'd version of Biggest Loser and go to bed. Get up at 5:30 to run and start it all over again. Then throw in a quick trip to Denver (16 hours in the car) for the funeral. And start over again.

I am home now. I only have 3 kids. And I've never been so grateful for infertility.