A Day in the Dykstra House
Welcome to the “Day in Our House” project! We’re shadowing the regular, ordinary days of some awesome stay-at-home/work-from-home mothers. Read about the inspiration behind the project here!
Hi — I’m MaKenzie. It’s 7:30 am. Ross left the house about an hour ago to work out (overachiever) and I hear tiny feet jump out of a top bunk upstairs and begin the trek down to our bedroom. A tiny, blonde, four year old crawls up to the pillow next to mine. She promises to lay quietly and not move. Fifteen minutes, 30 coughs, 20 fake sneezes and 10 hugs later I squeeze her, kiss her cheek and reluctantly resign to getting out of bed.
Oatmeal and blueberries for breakfast. The living room furniture is still plastered against the sides of the walls and the kitchen table is shoved into our bay window. The girls got new scooters for their birthday from a favorite uncle and we cleared out the main floor of the house accordingly.
Me and the biggest get to the kitchen and I start breakfast for us. While the oatmeal is cooking I make a few phone calls on Mind Your Manners Monsters. My husband and I created an educational flash card set to help train our little women on practicing kindness and general etiquette in day-to-day life. Our website went down last night due to a system upgrade and a ready-to-purchase-customer messaged me at midnight letting me know. Yeesh.
Coffee is almost done HALLELUJAH. I swear, even the sound of coffee brewing does something magical to me on the inside. It’s like a soft reminder to my day “you can do this, I can help!”. We eat our oatmeal and blueberries and talk about when we think the others will wake up. After a bit, I walk to our front door and get on my knees. I started this tradition maybe a year ago? We studied the book of Revelation in my Bible Study Fellowship class last year and while reading in Daniel I was so enamored by the reality that Daniel’s “crime” and the cause for his sentence to the lions den was merely talking to God/praying each morning by his window. I want that to be the “crime” I’m known for too, in the sight of my children and maybe even the neighbors who catch a glimpse. So, I started kneeling in front of our front door each morning for a quick prayer — some days half naked, other days half asleep — I’m sure our neighbors driving by get a good laugh if they see me at the door (partially kidding on the naked reference).
It’s 9 am now. Two of the four are awake. I’m finishing my coffee and about to prepare for our morning preschool routine. I’m a free spirit to a terrible fault, awful at routine and scheduling — homeschooling is proving to be exactly what us gals needed in our day.
The somewhat calm ends. The baby’s awake now, screaming and bleeding (poor girl hit her chin again and opened up an old scab), one of the twins falls off a scooter, I wipe up the blood and start the baby’s dirty diaper change (aren’t morning diapers THE BEST?!). I can’t complain though, this time last year I had four in diapers at the same time and was averaging 20–25 changes day. Perspective is everything.
I got stuck on the phone again for website issues; after I whisper a dozen or so answers to impending questions from the offspring, the girls magically start “reading” to each other on the couch. This is a first, really. Two minutes in … we’re face-pinching and shouting, I put tech support on hold and intervene.
It’s 10:30 am. SCHOOL TIME. I put the baby in her crib for a bottle (and possible snooze) while me and the big girls head upstairs for preschool. Today we’re working on counting in sequence, handwriting and practicing the letters “i”, “e” and “u”. We wrap up, get a quick snack and rescue the screaming baby from her crib (she’s successfully poured out her bottle of milk across the crib and room). I serve up a second breakfast to the four year old and alternate time outs for whining and shouting between the twins. Whining continues for about 30 minutes and ends with me asking for forgiveness from the girls for shouting for “SILENCE!”. Oh, the humbling, ironies of motherhood.
I pull the trusty crockpot out to get the Thai Curry soup cooking so it’s ready for dinner. (I have the BEST recipe if you love curry and soup). The littlest one picks a great time to lose control — I’m cutting up raw chicken with vegetables and have to decide if I should finish chopping or help… I finish chopping. Scoop her up for a big hug and a paci handoff, then check the kitchen rug to see the damage done from the squirt gun and marker set that was introduced mid-raw-chicken cut up. Not too bad, I’ve seen worse.
It’s noon now. The big girls help clean up the toys strewn across the house with lots of complaining but I’m proud of them at the end, they did it. We have a firm talk about the importance of working as a team, enjoying our toys and acting like “big girls” when it comes to cleaning up after ourselves. About 20 minutes later the house is, what I like to call, “our version of clean” — a.k.a there’s still a dozen smashed blueberries on the kitchen floor, several clumps of dried playdoh and the double sink is full of dirty dishes but toys are in the playroom, markers are put away and the wood floors are semi-clear so the five of us can walk through without serious injury. Good work, girls. I sprint downstairs to start a load of laundry (one down, eight to go).
On a normal day, I pack up the ladies and we head to our local gym/rec for about two hours but given the level of whine in the house today, I can tell it’s best if we stay put. The fifth Dykstra babe (in utero) is demanding a meal. I turn on an episode of Sophia The First on to make our lunch and rest my achy back. The twins and my littlest are not big fans of TV, so I’m rushing through my tortilla-making because I know I’m on borrowed time once I hit the 5 minute mark. My four year old… I’m fairly certain she could and would watch TV for 8 hours straight if I let her.
Serve lunch, run downstairs to switch out the laundry and two of my helpers follow me. We separate the clothes and load a new round of whites into the washer. Post-lunch play time begins after another mandatory play room clean-up time (which also features lots of complaints). But, we muscle through it as a team and afterward two ride off on scooters throughout the house and me and the other two settle down to read some fairy tales together.
It’s 2 pm now. Today is one of those days where I’ve looked at the clock at least a dozen times and thought “how is it literally still ___ o’clock?”. We have a snack, I put the baby down for a snooze and remind the three big girls that this is their “quiet play time” and if any disturbances arise, it’s straight to bed… as in all of us, mom included, straight to bed (there’s always a little part of me that hopes I have to follow through with this consequence but they usually do a pretty good job). They play for a bit and then we get some screen time so mom can finish laundry.
I’m struggling picking between my PERFECTED Josh Garrels Radio and ALWAYS FAITHFUL 90’s Hip Hop Pandora stations, Josh wins for the minute. I crack open a Pepsi and start the Mt. Everest laundry pile (one of several) sitting on my dirty kitchen table.
It’s 4 pm now/ The five of us gals are polishing off a little snack when I discover a bag of sweet tarts in the top cabinet. JACKPOT. Everybody is pleased with my findings. We play and I laundry until dad gets home. I’ve been feeling pretty down and discouraged today by the large amounts of whining and all-out bickering/fighting between the gals and then… the clouds parted and a little ray of sunshine — in the form of my four year old taking the initiative to clean the entire playroom BY HERSELF, without being asked — showed up.
It’s these moments, right? Not really the “good behavior” or “right choice” but those quick bursts of light that what we’re doing, what we’re saying, how we choose to love them, the Jesus that we represent each day to them might just be sinking in a bit. Sometimes I go weeks without a single moment like this but man do I treasure them when they happen; even something as simple as a playroom pickup. His gifts are GOOD. They’re all good.
And then someone smacked the baby and the screaming started back again. hahaha, but seriously.
It’s somewhere after 5 pm now. Dad gets home and after dinner we all pile in the car to visit one of our new rehab projects out in KY. Me and my sweetie (Ross) have been rehabbing, renovating and project-working on homes for several years now. He’s the brains. It just so happens this new project he just wrapped up is a giant home out in KY with an amazing pool, so we swim for an hour or two before heading to get some ice cream ice balls in Bellevue. Bedtime is a whirlwind (as usual), a mix of tears/screams/kisses and shouting the same phrases like “OK, close your eyes now” until every one’s heart is content. Bedtime and car seats are two of my least favorite things in this life but heck, ya can’t have it all.
Thank you, Father, for another day with these people you’ve given to me. I’m the least deserving of such a gift but my heart is forever grateful.
Want more? Read “A Day in the Gautraud House”
