A long time ago I read a few books by the “Sidetracked Home Executives.” One of their suggestions, in making a weekly routine for homemaking, was to designate an Errand Day.

That never worked for me when any of the kids were small (which means, continuously for the past 15 years). The kids couldn’t handle spending that much time doing all the weekly errands at once. But now that everyone’s in school, I thought that today would be a good time to try this concept. My rationale was that I didn’t want to be anywhere near a supermarket or post office any later in the week, so I should get everything done today.

I left the house at 8:40 AM and went straight to the Catholic Grade School where I volunteered in the library for 2 hours. Then, the store to pick up a few things for the kindergarten Thanksgiving party. Then, daily Mass. Then I took a break and used a coupon for a free sandwich at Chick-Fil-A so I wouldn’t be grocery shopping on an empty stomach. And then, on to the grocery store.

I’m not sure what circle of Hell I descended when I went into the store, after circling the lot to find a parking space and a fruitless search for a dry cart. It was like Amateur Night in there. All the people who don’t know where anything is in the grocery store were in there, all at once, leaving carts scattered all over and driving up the back of my heels as I rushed from aisle to aisle. Thankfully, I had my list organized according to the store layout (a survival skill I developed when Middle Sister was little) and I didn’t need any of the traditional Turkey Day Essentials.

After the supermarket, I went home to put away the frozen and refrigerated stuff and to find the papers authorizing Middle Sister to play CYO basketball on Sundays for the next few months. I had to have them notarized and handed in, with a $75 check, last week. (oops!) Then it was off to the municipal building to show off my horrible driver’s license photo and prove that since I can spell my last name, I must be me. I stopped at the post office to mail a package and buy Christmas stamps (Madonna and Child stamps are lovely this year, as usual!) and then it was off to Target to get birthday gifts for my niece and nephew and snow pants for my younger two kids, for the one or two times a year it snows when you live this close to the equator. The birthday kids got books, since I am leery of buying toys right now, and both kids got black boys’ snow pants for ease of hand-me-downs.

And then I came home, and did some laundry, changed my shoes, and put on some (decaffeinated) coffee.

I like errands, but not all at once. I really like spending a bigger hunk of the day at home, and having one or two errands to do on any given day. Sorry, Sidetracked Home Executives. Errand Day is not for me.

If I had a dollar for everyone who asked me what I’d be doing all day long while all of the children are in school full-day, I’d be well on the way to covering next year’s new school uniforms (or at least Big Brother’s required-by-school pricey shoes).

While it is acceptable, around here, to stay home with my children as long as they are at home, I seem to have crossed the line now that Little Brother’s in kindergarten and there are 8 hours without children in this house.

Do you know how many bonbon jokes I’ve heard in the past few weeks? Or suggestions that I can get all caught up on the soaps (which I have never watched in my life)?

I truly can’t count the number of people who assume that now that Little Brother is off to kindergarten, I’ll be off to work. My job is done, you see. I’ve gotten them all off to school.

We tried that once before, when Middle Sister started school, and I had a 4-hour-a-day teaching job. Then Big Brother came down with mono, 2 weeks into the school year, and TheDad and I had to figure out whose work schedule would be inconvenienced to take care of a sick child. We quickly came to the conclusion that this wasn’t worth it. Not having any immediate family members closer than 65 miles away means that we don’t have a lot of backup. Our family is on our own for a lot of things that my parents, when we were kids, and now my brother, sister, and TheDad’s brother can take for granted because there are grandparents in the area and they can help out.

And we believe that the kids need me just as much as ever–just in a different way. They need me to be there when they climb down off that school bus in the afternoon, rumpled and tired and excited about their day. They need to be able to come in and find that I have gotten my errands and “daytime” chores done during their school time, so that after school I am not so consumed with laundry and cleaning and such that I can’t listen to them talk about their day, inspect artwork and classwork, share a snack, and read all those notices that come home from the PTA. They need me to pick up Middle Sister and Little Brother after school on Tuesday this week so we can hurry over to a local high school and watch Big Brother’s cross-country meet. They need me to find a way to volunteer some time in each of their schools. They even need me to strive to attend daily Mass while they’re off at school. And if someone is sick, they need me to be there.

They may be in school, but my job is not done. And that’s good, because I love my job.

That’s the word for the inside of my refrigerator today.

I finally traced the disgusting smell to the bag of fresh (well, not anymore) green beans. Guess there were some bad ones in there.

In the interest of making the whole thing smell a LOT better than it did, I emptied everything out. I got rid of a few things I could no longer identify. I wiped all the shelves and the yick off the bottom. Yick? It’s an industry term. 409 was my best friend today, that’s for sure.

Feeling ruthless, I pitched about 4 half-containers of icing, all sorts of outdated stuff that got shoved to the back and forgotten, and the contents of 5 containers. Then I rushed the trash bag past the horrified children who were holding their noses, and out the back door. It’s trash day tomorrow (how smart of me to clean the fridge today!)

Boy, there’s a lot of room in there now. And it’s organized! All the salad dressing is together in a basket; my 3 “frequent flier ingredients” are right on the top shelf of the door (bread machine yeast, big jar of garlic, and lemon juice); all the jelly is together and the ice-cream toppings are gathered in one spot, too.

I freely admit to dreading this chore, but it really only took me less than an hour to do, and it’s one of those jobs where you can really admire the results.

I wonder how long it will take to get it to its former rummaged, messy state? With 5 eaters in the house, I give it a week.

Or, it just doesn’t get any better than this.

Today for our lunch I made French toast using “Texas Toast” bread. We added “special sugar” (confectioners sugar) on top for that Jersey Diner touch. Oh, it was yummy. The kids were happy, and Little Brother told me that I make “fab-lee-ous” French toast. The other kids agreed.

Just now I read an article that Julie D. highlighted in her recipe blog. The title: Is Cooking for Your Family Retrograde June Cleaver Nonsense?

Just because I wear my fab-lee-ous apron when I cook for my family doesn’t make me June Cleaver. For one thing, the pearls and heels are JUST not me. My taste runs more toward capri pants and Keds.

I cook for my family because:
I enjoy cooking.
My family enjoys eating.
It’s good for my family to eat wholesome, home-cooked food rather than nutritionally-deficient fast food.
It’s good for my family’s budget to eat at home.
Eating meals together is good for the family.

Sometimes it seems that people who don’t respect some women’s choice to nurture their families in their homes believe that the kind of work we do in order to nurture our families in our homes has no value.

I disagree. There’s no work with a higher value. And frankly, some parts of the work I do are things you could never pay me for. Good thing I have Little Brother to help me clean the toilets. Ick. This work is what we do for love, and there’s no price to be put on it.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a few things together to start our dinner for tonight.

There are some jobs that, as a homemaker, I like more than others. I’m not so big on washing windows, vacuuming or dusting. My favorite work is cooking, planning, laundry and ironing.

I don’t iron a few items a day, just what I am going to wear that day, like my mom has always done. She has that ironing board up and down all the time. I tend to take a block of time and iron a whole pile of things at once. This gets done about once a week. In the fall, I enjoy ironing while watching Notre Dame football games. The rest of the year, I watch the news, cooking shows, or home-decorating shows while I iron.

This afternoon as the thunderstorms passed overhead and I ironed and hung up a week’s worth of clothes, the kids played downstairs. It was all very calming, so much so that when I heard a loud CRASH, I looked up from pressing my Generalissimama apron and hollered down the stairs, “What are you guys breaking?”

I still don’t know what the CRASH was. I’m not sure I want to. I think I will go back and iron some more.

What you will find if you look in my planner for today’s date:
–Ascension Thursday (translation: GO TO CHURCH!)
–Middle Sister Field Day: donate 50 10-oz cups
–noon: Tutor at library (with 2 children in tow)
–house: laundry, change 2 beds, trash day
–dinner: Teriyaki Pork, rice, green beans

What you won’t find, but nevertheless has happened:
–nag Middle Sister about staying off her injured foot (the reason she is not at school on Field Day)
–instruct Little Brother and Adventure Boy on proper protocol for their Earthworm Relocation Program: “Do not dump your bucket of dirt and worms on the sidewalk! Someone will step in it and kill the worms. You can dump that into the garden, over here. Now get some shovels and clean all that up and put it in the garden.”
–take a phone call from your student’s father after your student skipped his second tutoring appointment this week. Tell said student’s father that the student only has a D in class right now, and that he has to put in some serious study time if he intends to pass his final exam and graduate high school. Reschedule for Saturday morning.
–email student’s guidance counselor to ask about proper protocol for students who repeatedly skip tutoring sessions

This is my apron. I’m a big fan of the Kitchen Madonna‘s work–I think she must be praying while she pleats.

Every time my neighbor sees me with my apron on, she asks me what I’m cooking. I’m not always cooking, but I like to wear the apron even when I’m not. The color is cheerful and makes me smile. My little neighbor Cutie Pie told me yesterday that she likes the black dots. (Me too, Cutie Pie!)

When I wear my apron I am on the job. The pretty pattern catches my eye and reminds me what I am here to do. Last year my Big Kids used to tease me when I practiced the organ, reminding me that I shouldn’t look down at my hands while I played. They’d threaten to borrow Music Teacher’s Ugly Apron. Apparently Music Teacher had an apron that she would have kids wear while they had their keyboard lessons. If they could see the apron, they were paying too much attention to their fingers; it was a reminder that they should look at the music instead.

My Pretty Apron works the same way for me. When I wear my apron I am more focused on what I’m to be doing in my home. It’s not just doing laundry or cooking a meal. It’s nourishing my family in many ways.

Lindsey observed that being home is to a great extent, a heart issue. You’ve got to really focus your heart on HOME and FAMILY to make it work and not feel frustrated. I think she’s absolutely right. I wish I had learned this when the kids were younger. I used to “create” errands so I could get out of the house every day. Now I am trying to think of ways to avoid errands so I don’t have to leave. And the more things on my plate that take me out of the house, the more ways I want to cancel them all so I can stay home.

What I really need right now is an Apron Day. A whole day with nowhere to go, and nothing to do besides be here at home and do what moms do best.

Let’s say that you have informed your child that you will be vacuuming the family room after dinner. The child has been given ample and REPEATED warning that all tiny little toys and pieces of toys should be picked up. The child has also been given plenty of time to accomplish this task, a place where the toys and pieces of toys can be placed, and a little guidance (“Check under the couch!”)

What age must your child be before you are no longer duty-bound by the Cleaning Mama Code of Guilt to eviscerate your vacuum bag because you heard multiple Rattles of Plastic Death while vacuuming said family room?

I’m just asking.

This question has nothing to do with the Lego and Playmobil bits that may or may not be currently residing within the bowels of my Oreck.