Days in plural perhaps. Our technology has failed in a series – first the iphoto, then the car needed a jump (as the seven of us were loaded, buckled, and heading out to the midwife), and the dishwasher died. Worst of all, the electric fence won’t charge mysteriously. We replaced the battery, checked for weeds and other obstructions. No luck. this is a bad thing because goats need to be outside. They will need a goatherd this week. I bet the Amish don’t have these problems. Sometimes I wish we hadn’t ever begun to rely on these “helps” because it is such a disruption when they peeter out on us.

Nevertheless we ended the week in a whirlwind of activity. I gutted the little boys room – again. Made a command decision that we are done storing multiple sizes of clothing. If you are the person who asked me how I handle stored clothes, the answer is “not very well”. I manage the possessions we use daily just swell. Those that are to be sorted and stored and rotated regularly make my head spin, particularly when children periodically feel compelled to rummage through the storage. (why oh why?) So I have bagged a good deal of it up to return it to thrift shop circulation this week.

The girls arrived in from camp around dinner time yesterday. Woo hoo! Alannah had a quick turn for her next week of travel with her Dad.

Today was rough. Between the clothes sorting and the dishwasher fiasco and getting them out the door at 5am I should have seen what was coming and just stayed home. I hate to do that though so I packed us all off to church. Got there 45min early because I hadn’t gotten the note about choir practice being cancelled. Brendan was out of sorts which didn’t bode well. The boys had class afterwards but by then I was done in and my blood sugar was bottoming out. We went home.

Brendan, despite his inexplicable behavior has a way of stopping you in your tracks. I overheard him talking to Moira about his hair. He remarked that hers was brown. That got him thinking of his apparently. He told her “I have yellow hair on my head…and it is boo-da-ful”. I had to smile. I had to slow down.

It is funny how things can turn around if you do just slow down and take a deep breath. I am reading a wonderful book I hope to quote from this week about doing just that. I reminded myself about the passages advising doing one thing at a time. I reminded myself about the articles the Gypsy Lady and I have shared this week about childcare and keeping everyone close at hand. I did both. We made dinner together. I read them read our new library books during dinner. We cleared the table and Colin took them out to play. A cool breeze swept through the kitchen and I dove in to those dishes, by hand. It was slow but it was therapeutic. The warm water, the children’s voices wafting in here and there. I felt my breath coming slower and deeper. All is well.

And now, I need to round up that ‘boo-da-ful’ little man and his compadres from the advancing darkness, wrap them in superhero jammies and tuck them in bed, smelling that yellow hair and reminding myself how really lucky I am. That is my next “one thing” tonight, one in series of many things I hope not to lose sight of in a flurry of activity and minor frustrations that life can become if we aren’t mindful.