tick, tick, tick

So I am sitting here at 10:08 pm precisely and trying to figure out what I should write about. It has been a busy day followed by a busy month. And I really don't know why. What exactly has made our late August into September so ridiculously busy? And don't try to tell me it's the whole having eight kids thing. We've had eight kids for over a year now and I don't remember being this busy.

I think, just maybe, our slow-down button is broken. I'm sure it can happen. Just today, the brand new metronome I ordered off Amazon (to replace the original metronome I ordered off Amazon which arrived broken) was broken by Shelby. It wasn't the slow-down button, rather it was the button that decides to turn off the insanely regular tick-tick-tick-tick. Now, we are turning off our brand new, used for the first time today metronome using a toothpick. I think that perhaps we can squeak about two weeks of this method before a toothpick tip will be jammed into the opening, leaving the metronome in the on position permanently. And I say the on position because we would not be the family where it gets stuck in the off position. That wouldn't be nearly unique enough.

But maybe, having this insanely regular ticking would be a good thing. We could use it as a contest to see who can pick up ALL the Legos using the fewest ticks. And while we are discussing Legos, I am already regretting buying the large, Rubbermaid tubs which made it easier for the boys to access their "little Legos." Those things have been everywhere today. (We have several sizes of Legos. Little are the traditional size that everyone pictures when they think of a Lego. Then we have the Duplos, which are great Legos since a baby can't die on them. We are big fans around here of non-death toys. So we go one step further and have some monster-sized Legos that can actually build walls. And there are even the baby Legos, which have nice, rounded edges so that toothless gums can have a field day. Who knew those Swedes were so brilliant in the Lego department?)

Or the ticks could be incentive to complete each math problem within certain parameters. Five ticks for a basic addition problem. Twenty for an algebraic equation.  Then you could slow the goals down for handwriting - the more ticks you use, the better, since you are supposed to be writing slowly and carefully, concentrating on your letter formation. And thinking about letter formation makes me wonder why two of my children, who have been taking penmanship lessons since they could gasp a crayon, have writing a chicken would disown. How is that possible?

I could use the ticks as my audible "time is passing" notice on those days when I wake up so tired I'm convinced that time is standing still to mock my weariness. A reminder I can hear might help my sanity on those days. Of course, so would a warm bath and a nice, long nap but I don't exactly see that happening any time soon.

OR - I could just take out the battery. But then that creates the whole conundrum of "Mom -  I can't find the battery! I know I put it back into the basket with the metronome, but it's not here!" Why is it that every single child of mine insists that they know something, even when the evidence of their lack-of-knowledge may be staring them in the face? Case-in-point: the other day Shelby came to me panicked that her camera may be broken because she had changed the batteries and yet the camera still wouldn't turn on. I opened the battery door, reinstalled the batteries the correct way, and the camera turned on. Shelby's answer: "I know I put the batteries in the right way." Sure you did. I just magically switched the positive and negatives before opening the camera door because my secret goal in life is to prove you wrong. OR - you made a very simple mistake that dozens of people make daily. Which is more likely? "Mom, I know I put the batteries in right!"

Of course, I could accept defeat and simply order a third metronome from Amazon. The good parent thing would be to order a new metronome and if this third one is broken, then the offending child must pay for the replacement. I must confess I'm not always willing to be a good parent. Sometimes I just want to say, "No worries, accidents happen" and buy another metronome indefinitely. Now is this because grace and mercy would say "No worries" or because secretly I really, really want the kids to like me, and taking their money for a musical tool is not exactly endearing?

Oh, forget it. I can't figure out what to write about. I'm going to bed.