There was an old women who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
scolded them soundly and sent them to bed.
Noah and I just read this nursery rhyme this evening as she was getting ready for bed. Why did it resonate in my head as if I was reading my own biography?
Let's just analyze this a bit...
Do I live in a shoe? No, but I do live in an area of the country that oftentimes seems far removed from modern culture, otherwise known as the Midwest. Thanks to the wonders of technology (cable television, cell phones, and high speed internet), I like to think that I am somewhat "tuned in." But that's just my view from the shoe. The reality is I spend my entire day in my shoe, and my conversations involve babies, toddlers, preschoolers. (There are the moments I like to "talk back" to conservative talk radio. But since Rush and Glen can't return my oh-so intelligent and thoughtful comments, I guess we can't really call that a conversation.)
Do I have so many children that I don't know what to do? Nah - I know just what to do. When things heat up and more than three of them are crying, I reach for the chocolate. I stand at the freezer for 30 seconds of pure chocolate bliss, and then face the challenge with renewed vigor.
I have only two children that are my own - I provide care for an additional five. Sound crazy? It is.
And while giving them broth without any bread is an intriguing idea, it certainly doesn't bode well for the future of my childcare business.
Today, for example, I just had four kids, including my own. Should have been an easy day, right? Wrong. The three year old spent the morning in tears because I was out of breakfast sausage links, I turned off the TV, and he missed his mommy. My toddler spent the middle of the day in tears because I asked her to pick up her play-doh, go get her own kleenex, and stop walking in the middle of the street. (Ahh...yes...we were outside today. There was sunshine. Alleluia!) And the minute we got in the door from our walk, both babies started crying and biting at my ankles.
I scolded them soundly I made them each a bottle and sent them to bed.
I made myself a strong glass of tea, caught up on my blog reading, and watched Paula Deen make a yummy banana dessert. And before I knew it, the afternoon was over, and Daddy was home. He entertained the kids, bathed them, and even did the dishes. Somedays, I am so glad I married this guy!
I nearly forgot, no pun intended, to pose the "old" question. Do I look like an old woman? While I am not yet thirty, and while I may seem like a spring chicken to many of my friends, I know I am not the same girl in that wedding picture on my wall. Having two children has most definitely aged my body. I now look at my two younger sisters with a twinge of jealousy - their soft, glowing complexion and noticeable waist lines sends me right back to the freezer for another handful of chocolate.
Someone please remind me to remove this nursery rhyme from the pages of the book! I can't afford to spend another evening wallowing in my stinky shoe of self pity.
And don't even get me started on Peter the Pumpkin Eater...