You may assume that life with 7-year-old quadruplets, a 17-year-old senior in high school, a husband and a career is overwhelming at times. It can be. For me however, it just seems normal. My life is not much different from other working moms who struggle with balancing home and career.
Here's a typical day in my house:
Photo by Rhett Butler/Her magazine |
Madison, Mackenzie, Laura Lee, Nicholas and
David in their Winterville home.
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5:45 a.m.: I am eased into wakefulness by some sappy country song playing on the radio. The song is so pleasant I don't even bother to hit the snooze button. It isn't long though before the easy-listening tones of Tim McGraw are rudely interrupted by what sounds like a small herd of elephants above my head in the upstairs bedrooms. And the day in the Potter home begins ...
There are certain things as a parent that I have done that I praise myself for. At the top of the list is the fact that, when the quads were 3 or 4 years old and in preschool, I put an alarm clock in each of their rooms and started getting them used to waking up with an alarm. I did not start Josh, our 17-year-old son, on an alarm clock at an early age and, to this day I believe the world could crumble around him and he would sleep soundly through it.
6 a.m.: Madison, Mackenzie, Nicholas and David all jump out of their beds and head directly for the day's outfits laid out neatly in the hallway outside their bedrooms. I hear some fussing that, once again, I mistakenly put Madison's shirt in Mackenzie's pile. And Nicholas is upset because I forgot that today he has music class at school and he prefers to wear his shirt with the guitar on it. I think he believes wearing the shirt will get him extra points on his grade, because it seems crucial that he wears this shirt today. I tell him it's fine for him to change his shirt, while in the back of my mind I hope it's clean.
While the little ones continue getting ready upstairs, I get myself ready for a busy day at the office. I am especially happy this morning because I found something in the closet that doesn't need to be ironed. It's looking like a good day so far.
6:30 a.m.: I make my morning entrance into the kitchen. I am met first with hugs and kisses from everyone. Then the customary tattle session begins. This morning it seems Madison jumped in front of David to use the toaster. I calmly explain that the toaster is a four-slot — exactly the number of slots we need so everyone may cook their toaster struedel at the same time. "Yes, but ... I want to eat two toaster struedels," David explains. Like clockwork, Nicholas, who seizes every opportunity to save the day, gives up his toaster slot so David can have the two slots he needs. Mackenzie has chosen to stay out of the fuss this morning by sticking with a bowl of cereal.
As I look over at the table, I see that the children have fixed breakfast for me and my husband, John. I can hardly wait to enjoy the feast they have prepared this morning. I start with the bowl of Frosted Flakes, extra soggy but delicious, and end this delightful meal with the Little Debbie Zebra Cake and glass of Diet Mountain Dew. Truthfully, I do appreciate the meal; otherwise, I wouldn't have time to grab anything. The children watch our every bite to make sure we eat every bite — and we do not disappoint.
6:45 a.m.: Nicholas reads out the school menu of the day and barely makes it past "Fish with cheese on a bun with tartar sauce" when all together they shout, "Eeeww! I am taking my lunch!"
I remind them to hurry, and off they go, gathering lunch boxes, juice boxes, Lunchables (they are the greatest things) and an assortment of snacks.
As expected, Madison and Mackenzie prefer peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so they go to work glopping the PB&J on the bread, then carefully cutting off the edges. They slice the sandwiches in half and tell me they have two triangles. I am impressed by their early-morning geometry knowledge.
7 a.m.: My daily chaos sets in ... Has everyone brushed their teeth? Two of the four run off to the bathroom to brush.
Has everyone taken their vitamins? Oh boy, what was I thinking buying Flintstones vitamins instead of some non-character shaped ones? Why can't all the vitamins in the bottle be the same color? Who can really tell Fred from Wilma?
Where's the hairbrush? Madison wants a big ponytail. Mackenzie wants a little pony tail. David just wants his hair to stop sticking up and Nicholas wants to know what exactly IS a cowlick?
Has Josh been called to wake up?
Are the trash cans out at the end of the driveway? It is Tuesday isn't it? Trash man comes today.
Oh dear, it is Tuesday, which means "Library Day" at school. Where are the four library books? Everyone runs around the house looking in the usual places for the library books but only come back with three. Then David remembers his is in his backpack. Yay!
I call Josh again. He promises he is awake. We make him walk out of his room and let us see his smiling face as proof. Okay, we are satisfied that he is awake after he makes his appearance and reminds us to leave him lunch money. I am thinking he doesn't know that the menu is "fish with cheese on a bun with tartar sauce."
Now the biggest challenge of the morning ... COATS! Today, WITN meteorologist Jim Howard says that it's heavy coat weather. So heavy coats it is, much to the dismay of the children, who tell me there are kids wearing shorts to school. I tell them that I feel sorry for that kid, because he sure is going to be cold while they are going to be toasty warm. After a couple of meltdowns about the coat issue, we load up the Suburban.
7:15 a.m.: Before I put the car in reverse to back out of the garage, I shout out, "Do I have four buckled up?" Four voices in unison answer back, "Yes, ma'am" — and we are off ... right on time.
It's amazing how you can do something once and then it becomes a necessary part of the routine. We have several rituals that must take place from home to school every morning and, if just one of those things is forgotten, the day never really seems the same. It begins with the "Do I have four buckled up?" and is followed by my pathetic impersonation of an airline pilot doing the preflight weather and flight plan before we leave the driveway. As I do every morning, I begin, "I would like to welcome all returning passengers to Potter Airlines. Our flight this morning should be a pleasant one, filled with sunny skies and a smooth ride. We thank you for flying Potter Airlines and wish you a Happy Day!"
They all say "WHEEE" as I accelerate down the driveway and off to school.
As we make our way toward Ayden, four little heads bob back and forth as they sing along with Alvin and The Chipmunks blaring from the radio. They hate it when I start singing. I try to explain to them that I really liked Alvin and The Chipmunks when I was a little girl. This just confuses them. I don't even try to explain.
7:24 a.m.: In the same spot at the same time in our journey (in front of Bum's BBQ) every day, I look in the rear view mirror at my children and shout, "Who loves Mommy?" and, in the most beautiful harmony, hear "MEEEEEE" in return. "Who does Mommy love?" "MEEEEEE," they all reply. My morning is complete.
No matter how difficult the morning routine goes, we never leave out the "Who loves mommy?" step. On those rough mornings, it serves to clear the air and make things OK again and on the smooth mornings, it is just that much better.
7:25 a.m.: We roll up to Ayden Elementary, everyone with backpack in hand. I try to get there promptly at 7:25 so I won't hold up traffic too badly while all of my little ones file out of the car. As they get out one by one, I give each one a kiss on the hand so they may place it in their pocket. If during the day, they start missing me, they reach into their pocket and retrieve the kiss that I placed there that morning. Mackenzie reminds me to wave at her before I drive off — and I do.
7:26 a.m.: I breathe a sigh of relief that this was a smooth morning, flip the radio from Hannah Montana to something more, well, age appropriate, and make my way to work.
7:45 a.m.: I arrive at my office. (My husband, John, owns Potter Construction and builds houses and I head The Potter Agency real estate office). It is tough to find quality time together at home, so we really appreciate our time together at the office. I have heard some couples can't work together but, in our case, it isn't hard. John is my best friend in the world.
Today, I'm helping a family from Pennsylvania find their dream home in Pitt County. They appreciate my knowledge of the area's real estate but almost seem more impressed by my ability to handle five children and a full-time job. It is tricky to balance motherhood and a career but, for my self-confidence and sanity, I need both.
Also, my career is necessary because the cost of raising five children is not cheap. We make sacrifices, but not ones that I think will make my children any less successful in life.
For example, we don't enroll our children in classes or activities unless they express an interest or aptitude in something. Nicholas has shown a natural talent for the guitar, so he's taking lessons from big brother, Josh. David will start piano lessons soon and the girls are involved in Girl Scouting.
Sometimes I feel slightly guilty that we don't spend our free time at Little League games or dance recitals, but I cherish the quiet time at home playing with my children and holding them in my lap while they are still small enough to let me.
3:30 p.m.: The day has gone by quickly. My cell phone rings. It is Josh letting me know that he is home and is waiting at the end of the driveway for the bus to drop off Madison, Mackenzie, Nicholas and David.
Josh is an unbelievable kid. At 17, he is the best baby-sitter in the world. I depend on him a great deal and dread next year when he will be off to college and won't be here to help. His afternoon baby-sitting job is a paid position and one he is very good at. He has learned patience since the birth of his brothers and sisters, when he was 10 years old. He has always taken an active role in their care and they respect his authority just as they do mine or John's.
While I am still at work, now picking out cabinets that will go in one of the houses John is building, Josh begins his afternoon routine with the kids.
3:35 p.m.: The bus arrives at home.
3:40 p.m.: Snack time.
4 p.m.: Homework begins. This is probably the most challenging job of the day. However, on this day, it is 70 degrees outside and Josh tells them that once they finish their homework they can go outside and play for a while — instead of the normal routine of homework then baths. They zip through homework today.
5 p.m.: Homework is complete and the kids go out to play. Josh neatly lines up the backpacks by the back door for the next day.
John and I try to work it out so one of us is home by 5:30 p.m. to relieve Josh. I am running a little late today, as I am making one of my two or three trips to the grocery store for the week. I have a crazy week, so the menu is Hamburger Helper, Manwich and hotdogs. I save the fancy cooking for the weekends. I have learned, though, that the children eat the quick meals better than those I spend hours in the kitchen working on.
6 p.m.: After the grocery store, I head home. I can't help but smile as I turn into the driveway and am greeted by my children waving in excitement to see me. I can hardly open the car door as they crowd around, waiting for me to get out to get my hugs and kisses. They all start telling me about their day and I try very hard to comprehend it all: something about a play, something about a boy hugging Madison and she didn't like it, something about somebody getting in trouble on the bus. I am glad to be home.
I tell the kids that I need everyone's help getting the groceries out of the car. They use all their strength to haul the bags into the house while I load the first of the night's four loads of laundry into the washing machine. While I start folding clothes that are in the dryer from the night before, John and the kids put the groceries away. I pretty much let them put the groceries where they see fit. I figure I will find it when I need it. I am thankful for all the help I get.
As the kids head back outside for a little more play time before it gets dark, John and I team up to knock out dinner.
6:30 p.m.: Time for our meal of hotdogs, Manwich, macaroni and cheese, green beans and yogurt. Luckily I picked up extra Trix yogurt at the store, because it is not a pretty sight when all four children want the same thing and I have fewer than four available. Usually, though, I can count on Nicholas to be my "Super Sharer" and save the day.
7 p.m.: I clean up the kitchen, throw the load of wet clothes in the dryer, start another load and get started on baths. John usually takes the boys and I take the girls, and we head to separate bathrooms. To get the job done quickly, we turn it into a race — boys versus girls — to see who can get finished first. We girls always lose. It's the long hair.
Everyone gathers their dirty laundry, drags it to the laundry room and adds it to the piles that are waiting there for my attention.
8 p.m.: I stop everything long enough to give everyone a little lap time. I use this time to trim everyone's fingernails and toenails. I laugh at the thought of having to trim 80 nails. That is just funny to me.
During this "lap time," I try to tune out everyone but the child who is in my lap. What he or she has to say is the most important thing in my life at that moment. I am amazed at the things 7-year-olds want to talk about. Sometimes they want to talk about serious things, like how they were born early and spent a lot of time in the hospital. Sometimes the conversation centers on the latest, greatest toy they saw on TV that they just have to have. Sometimes the conversation is as deep as what makes God happy and sad, and sometimes it is as childlike as the kid who got the whole class laughing when he burped out loud. In any case, it is all priceless to me. I miss the days when Josh used to sit on my lap and talk about the same things.
8:30 p.m.: I announce it is time for bed, and David asks, "Will you tuck me in first?" I tell him yes, and then I hear the normal fuss that I always tuck David in first. I try to explain that it doesn't matter who I tuck in first, that I will tuck all of them in.
We all head upstairs and they brush their teeth while I lay out their clothes for the next day in piles in the hallway. I stop to make sure that Wednesday is not a special day of any kind so I won't make the same fashion mistakes I made this morning.
I tuck David in first. As I tightly tuck the covers under his little body, I kiss him on the forehead and say, "Snug as a bug in a rug." He smiles and says, "I love you, Mommy" with such sincerity that my heart skips a beat.
Next I tuck Nicholas in. As I tightly tuck the covers under his little body, I kiss him on the forehead and say, "Snug as a bug in a rug." He smiles and says, "I love you, Mommy." My heart skips another beat.
I check their alarm clock to make sure it is set, dim the lights and head into the girl's room.
I confiscate two Barbies and a Nintendo DS out of their beds and proceed to tuck them in. I say, "Snug as a bug in a rug" two more times. Two more times I get hugs and kisses and two more I love yous. I check their alarm clock and dim the lights. I tell them I'll see them in the morning.
Mackenzie asks me if I can make it lighter in their room, so I turn the lights up a little bit. These girls, they think I don't know their game. They will be pulling Barbies out from underneath their pillows and playing as soon as they hear me go down the stairs. They are sneaky little ones.
I head to my bathroom to get ready for bed. As I am washing my face and trying to accept the reality that my 40th birthday is coming soon, I see two little girls peeping around the bathroom door. Giggling, they ease their way in and ask, "What are you doing Mommy?" I tell them that Mommy is getting old and wrinkly. Without delay, Madison hugs me tight and says, "Oh Mommy, you are prettier than Barbie to me." I swallow tears. I know it's not true, but Madison believes it. I thank her and tell her that she made Mommy feel much better, kiss them both and send them back up to bed.
9 p.m.: I spend the next hour in the laundry room. This is my space, complete with a television. I flip through the channels for a while. I try to watch "Jon and Kate Plus 8" on TLC, about a family with eight children, but I just can't. I live that story everyday. I flip to "American Idol" and fold clothes.
After crying when one of the contestants sings John Lennon's "Imagine," I decide I'm at a good stopping point in the loads of laundry to call it a night.
10 p.m.: I tiptoe upstairs to check on everyone one more time. Some say children are the sweetest when they are sleeping. This might be true. I can't resist touching them as they all lie there. I try to imagine what their little minds are dreaming of, and I can only hope it is pleasant things. David is probably dreaming of an animal of some kind, Nicholas of an adventure in a book that he has read, Madison and Mackenzie of the day their Daddy escorts them down the aisle to their princes. Whatever the dreams, I know they are happy ones.
10:30 p.m.: John, Josh and I are finally able to catch up with each other's days. I find myself thinking of Josh as an adult these days. He has grown into such a fine young man. The three of us talk openly about everything and I just hope that when Madison, Mackenzie, Nicholas and David reach 17, they feel the same openness with us that Josh feels.
11 p.m.: I am in the bed thinking ahead to the next day. I thank God for the good day he gave me and I pray for the patience that I will need tomorrow. He never fails.
Laura Lee Potter lives in Winterville with her 7-year-old quadruplets, 17-year-old son and husband, John. She works with John at Potter Construction and The Potter Agency.
