Severe Weather

There's a weather phenomenon known as the nanny tornado. It's the idea that you run around like a crazy chicken flitting from thing to thing, putting out fires as you go and making sure everything is done within a specified time period. Now, I imagine with parents this is a little different. If the dishes don't get done, or the toys don't get picked up or the clothes are lying in a pile it can wait until tomorrow. For me that's not an option. I have to get it all done before the parents get home. So like a whirlwind on steroids I get the groceries into the car, read books at the library and do the school pick up. Come home, unload the groceries, let the dog chase the turkey mercilessly and have the kids call their mom. Then, we're bundled in rain gear and getting some fresh air on the beach. Back inside making a mess in my bathroom to prep for a project.  Simultaneously chopping potatoes and testing the 7 year old on her spelling words. Yell down the stairs to ensure that the 5 year old is actually cleaning and not stalling since she's come upstairs to pee 3 times now. Line up for lessons in karate, yelling hiya's and blocking the air, sister teaching sister, nanny follows along. Unload the dishwasher of the drippy wet dishes and load up the crusted up old ones. Doing an art project and dancing to silly music. The kids are now covered like a Jackson Pollock work, head to toe splattered in paint. They paint in their undies for a reason. Hynie dances bound around the kitchen island and the water gets warmed up for a bubble bath.  Splish splash and Santa Claus beards. Running back and forth from the kitchen to prep the chicken and the bathroom to ensure a typhoon hasn't bleeped on the forecast. Completely forgot I had blasted the home made french fries and the smoke alarm starts blaring. Fries are fine. Fresh air pours in from the sliding door. Wrap the girls up like burritos and lay out fresh jammers. Dinner is warming in the oven. Plates are put out and veggies and fruit is chopped up. Dad comes in the door, girls bound up the stairs two at a time. Eat. Scoop out ice cream. Entertain girls, while Dad is busy, rounding corners quickly in a garden board-game dash. Teaching lessons in sportsmanship. Teeth sparkling clean, books picked. Goodnight kisses given. 

Breathe.

(Did I mention this was in the span of 4:30-7:00?)