Trying to parent without injury (or: the post in which I admit to subscribing to satellite TV and, sigh, actually watching it...)

Thank God for delightful fourteen year old girls. I have one living with me this week and I am wondering if her parents are willing to grant us some sort of joint parental rights so that she can live here much longer than five days. Her name is Rachel and she is the fourth of six children belonging to Joseph's godparents. I think she is a teenager according to the Original Plan. By Original Plan I mean the plan that God originally intended for teenagehood before we screwed it up with precocious sexuality, sequestered bedrooms and moodiness. In essence, she is a breath of fresh air. (Besides providing wonderful childcare she is also an excellent companion to me throughout the day and the lonely evenings. Last night we watched I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant. To say the least: I was riveted and now understand why one of Dave's colleagues is terrified that she might find herself at 34 weeks gestation without any knowledge of her condition.) This fresh air has been breathed into our house for the week as Dave is away in the extremely big city (to which I rarely venture for fear of raised blood pressure) where he is marking standardised testing.
Dave phones nightly to report on, ummm, what he ate for supper, where his roommate went (to Jersey Boys last night) and any remarks people make when they find out that the Valley Boy who is easily mistaken for Valley Lad (i.e. 18 years old) is having a fifth child in August: shock, awe and donations of hard cash. He has two more days of nose-to-the-grindstone-palm-pilot-recording marking to go and then he returns to us. I smile in anticipation.
Meanwhile we continue to swim. The twins are now able to jump into deep water with no life jackets; Ben will jump with a life jacket and even let his head go under; and Joe insists on carrying a noodle and jumping into my arms at such an alarming rate that I am almost unable to reposition myself for the catch. The baby spends all his time swimming and is due for a rude awakening come the end of August.
Speaking of babies, it seems as if everyone is pregnant. Yes, I exaggerate but here's a short list: me, my older sister, my maid of honour, two of Dave's NET teammates, a blog friend, a local friend, several Facebook friends and the roster grows. Not to mention the many friends who have recently given birth. I guess it is the age at which I find myself, 32; but I am still in awe at the burgeoning life around me.
Nevertheless, I had better go because Ben is still crying about a purple and pink rope that he desperately needs, Jacob is trying to arrest him in a G20 take-down, Joe is colouring the front-room carpet with blue chalk and Hannah is trying her best to create order while simultaneously perfecting the day's outfit.
Ah, a piece of heavy machinery is moving past our house and all is not lost. Thank you, God, for dump trucks and diggers.