Late last night, after choir rehearsal, Mrs. Pickwick cheerfully arranged a playdate for today- a nice lunch date from 11-2, to break up the school day. As any homeschooling mother knows, “breaking up the school day” like this does not actually mean giving hard-working minds a rest between Latin and arithmetic. It is code for losing the entire morning to excited preparation, losing the middle to the actual play, and losing the entire afternoon to naps all around. But one can dream, so the arrangements were made.

Later last night, after the mothers ought to have been asleep, frantic texts were exchanged in which the pious Orthodox but sleep deprived mothers remembered that there would be Pre-sanctified Liturgy at 10:30, putting a damper on both the excited preparation and actual play portion of the arrangements. We have only been attending these services every Friday for six weeks running, so the confusion is understandable. Well, we are nothing if not flexible so we decided to move the playdate to 2 and forego the naps, er, afternoon school session. Mrs. Pickwick briefly remembered she had offered to babysit elsewhere at 2:30, but is confident this won’t be a problem. Being two places at once is just one of those skills one acquires after a few children. Besides, the Pickwick Philosophy of Planning is to say yes to everything and worry about the details later.

This morning, 10:45(ish)- Mrs Pickwick arrives at Liturgy. Fashionably late, as is her distinct preference for church attendance. It is a mark of the truly humble not to try to look better than everyone else by arriving on time. (If you can arrange to forget the actual date, or better yet, location, it is an even greater mark of humility. But that is the subject for another post) There was a lot of fighting and braiding and screaming and tying of bows and weeping and finding of shoes and time-outs and hitting of sisters and yelling and we lost the baby for a minute or two first, but that is beside the point. We arrived.

10:46-12:00- Mrs Pickwick venerated the icons, saved Sweet’s candle from setting America’s Most Ancient Monastery on fire, removed Sweet from the premises in tears because Mommy touched my candle and now it is not my candle and I didn’t light it all by myself, nursed Baby P on a picnic bench outside, chased the Busy toddler through the parking lot, took eight people to the bathroom, wandered past the window of the church in pursuit of Busy long enough to hear that the service had not ended yet, was accosted by a bag of hand-me-downs, watched a few other toddlers protesting violently against martyrdom by shoes and pants and snacks inflicted upon them by their unnatural parents, fished someone else’s preschooler out of the Pickwickian stroller, thought perhaps her parenting wasn’t so bad after all, then wondered where Busy P was anyway….

12:05- Having located most of the Blessings and returned to the Actual Church Building, Mrs P handed Busy to a willing teenager, Baby to a baby-loving grandpa-type, shuffled Small, Sweet, and Feisty into line, and took a deep breath because it was finally TIME FOR COMMUNION. Mrs. P glances at the babies and notices they have fallen fast and deeply asleep in under two seconds with no rocking, cajoling, lullabying or threats to their lives. Siiiiiiigh.

12:30- Everyone begins meandering towards the community meal. Baby and Busy are gently returned to Mrs P’s charge and wake up immediately. The family we are to playdate did not make it to the service. Perhaps they are sick? Seized with an unquenchable passion to finish math before the playdate? Still frantically cleaning before we arrive in the hope that I will not notice four children live there? Lost? Forgot it was Friday? All distinct possibilities, well within the prism of Pickwickian experience, with the exception of the passion for math. Another child wants to join us for the afternoon, and naturally, Mrs P says yes. What is one more? I already have five, six will hardly be overwhelming to our hosts.

12:45- The Pickwicks, plus one, arrive in the lunch room and quickly realize there will be a bit of a wait before eating. Taking one experienced look at the hungry blessings, Mrs P makes the executive decision to flee the scene and have scrambled eggs at home. We acquire another child who either likes Pickwicks or scrambled eggs and make our escape.

1:15- The Pickwicks, plus two, arrive home and Mrs P remembers just how messy the kitchen was and how much work it will be to clear enough space to make eggs. So she distributes apples, sends the devouring hoards outside, and promises eggs and pancakes…soon.

1:45- The playdate is still on, but Mrs P is still clearing counters and realizes even she can not make pancakes and feed seven children, get them in the car and arrive ten minutes away in 15 minutes. So with a look of dismay at the messy house that looks very much like A Lot Of Kids Live There, she proposes to move the playdate to the Pickwick abode… and is accepted. She meant, she really meant, to just make pancakes and let the house be. But she can’t. She still has to fly around madly trying to do, er, something.

2:00- Hungry, the Blessings return indoors and take the pancake making into their own hands. This definitely improves the state of the kitchen. The playdate friends arrive, swelling the ranks to 11 children under 14. Pancakes, eggs, apples, and children are everywhere. At least it’s just another mom witnessing the chaos. The conflicting babysitting commitment has been cancelled (moral: overcommit- it will always work out, unless it doesn’t) and Baby P has mysteriously broken out in hives which disappear as rapidly as they came (moral: hives are really strange).

3:00- Chaos reigns indoors, and rain rains outdoors. This doesn’t stop the older children, Pickwick and otherwise, from biking with umbrellas in the driveway and singing their favorite show tunes. A family of pilgrims has arrived in the guesthouse next door with three children, whom they have already lost in the melee. The parents introduced themselves and said they had no idea what to expect, as this was their first visit to a monastery. A shuttlecock nearly hits one of them as it flies past. The Blessings are having a fabulous time convincing them they are really only one family, with 11 kids. At least they are parents, of boys, too. Surely the mess looks somewhat familiar.

3:05- Through the rain, flying objects, and 14 singing children, there is a slightly different noise at the door, and I wade through debris to find that the abbot has arrived with a sewing project. “Carry on! Carry on! Don’t mind me!” he calls to the children. I don’t think the mess can possibly look familiar! I haven’t heard any novices singing show tunes on bicycles lately. Oh well. He has heard my confession. Maybe it will make more sense now. As to the sewing project, I answer true to the Pickwick Philosophy.