How a “nothing happened” week can look

Wednesday:  By now, mother needs mocha or she will high-center on fabled mid-week hump and will never make it over.  En route to purchasing her “therapy in a cup,” she drops three sons off at three different schools.  Third grader gets dibs on front seat, much to brothers’ chagrin.  The second his jeans leave the van, the 14-year-old slithers his into the still-warm spot for the 12-yard drive to the middle school.  Oldest son scoffs at mother’s defense of brother and her explanation that “this way, all three bottoms are happy.”  Upon arrival at the middle school, 18-year-old darts from back, charges for the passenger’s seat where brother is saying goodbye to mother, and proceeds to “help” him out.  The “helpee” throws himself in dramatic fashion across front seat, clutching and screaming in mock terror as “helper” pulls on his bottom half.  (To the person who was dropping a kiddo off behind us – it only looked like a carjacking.)  Mother makes note to self to purchase plastic glasses with fake nose and mustache in case she ever has to go to middle school again.  Nearing Panther Drive, she slows to 35, forcing reluctant senior to jump before gunning it towards the coffee shop.  Later, they meet the Schrocks at a Goshen restaurant to see a brother in from Georgia.  Service so slow that sister-in-law has another birthday and is now 41.  Will 10 restless grandchildren stage a coup, start a food fight?  Adults worry.  Thursday:  Weekly 6:30 breakfast with oldest son.  Conversation ranges from relationships to work to pros and cons of having a credit card at 18.  Later, mother has mini meltdown, looks to resign over some issues with kids that suddenly rear up.  Tells father to put her down like a horse with a broken leg.  Father refuses; encourages instead.  Lucky her.  Lucky him.  Lucky boys!  Friday:  Weekly flight to (where else?) coffee shop to write column.  Father set to leave for office with baby when baby waters his good shirt, requiring fresh clothes for both.  Mother exhausted after typing 225 reports for the week, issues SOS.  Father saves the day, comes home with pizza.  Funny how tired you can be after a week full of so much “nothing.”  And I haven’t even mentioned the cooking, cleaning, laundry, straightening, counseling, instructing, training, reminding, encouraging, and general directing it takes to keep all this “nothing” on track.  Good thing it’s so boring around here.  I don’t think I could handle much more excitement.  Though the ages of the parties involved have changed, not much else has.  There’s still the odd struggle in the van, the occasional maternal meltdown, and the intermittent calls for pizza.  In other words, a whole lot of “nothing.”