I knew better, but I did it anyway. I convinced my husband, Rusty, that we could handle five grandchildren together this weekend. They  range in age as follows: Micaela, 7, Nate, 6 (almost), Gabe 4, Asher, 2 1/2, Elizabeth 15 months. They came on Saturday afternoon and spent the night.  I don't have time to tell you everything they did, but here's a little of what you would have heard at my house if you were a fly on my wall.
 
"Elizabeth, do NOT stick your hand in the potty." She looks at me like I'm a complete numbskull who doesn't understand that she is bound by some cosmic bond with the potty and MUST stick her arm in the potty...which she does, again and again. The biggest problem with this is sometimes the boys forget to flush the potty. NOTE TO SELF: Keep anti-bacterial soap around when Elizabeth is here.

"Asher, I told you not to sit on the water-spout." "But, Nana," he says, "it tickles my bottom." He proceeds to back-up to the water-spout toy we have set up in the yard to let it tickle his butt before he plops down on top of it.

"Micaela, don't be a tattle-tale," when she runs to me to tell me Asher has squashed the water-spout that she wanted to squash. Somehow, everything and anything that is not right, broken, or just plain wrong is caused by her brothers. And yet, she mothers them constantly.

"Elizabeth, get your hand out of that potty!"

"Nate, are you sure you can eat that much?" He has a huge portion of chicken, corn on the cob, a pile of potatoes, and garlic bread on his plate. I've never heard him say he didn't want dessert, but he turned down pound cake with sliced peaches. Shortly, when I saw him looking a little green around the gills, "Nate, if you're going to be sick, run to the potty!" What concerned me was he actually ambled off toward the bathroom. About thirty minutes later, he decides he does want dessert. That's my Nate.

"Gabe, please don't ride your bike that fast if you don't know how to use the brakes." I repeat this request several times, but it is ignored several times as he careens down my driveway at breakneck speed (well, it seems like breakneck speed to me) until he goes out of control and crashes. Repeatedly. Scuffed knees with sniffles each time. He gets up and does it over and over again.

"Elizabeth, get your hand out of that potty!"

Rusty arranged for the four older ones to 'camp out' in the 5th wheel in our driveway. Somehow, I get Elizabeth to sleep in her port-a-crib. He took the boys for a 'hike' down our road and they pilfered blackberries growing on a lot nearby. Micaela and I sat outside and watched a lavender tinted sunset and listened to the cricket chorus. Fate smiled at me because at 10:30pm, Rusty has the boys and Micaela in the camper and I am alone in my bed....aaaahhhhh, yes! See, I told you we could handle it,

Sunday  morning after I prepared a gazillion waffles, they all had baths, we dressed them for church and their dad picked them up! We did it!! We were only fifteen minutes late for church!! We rock!