7:30am: My 3 1/2-year-old boy, Dirt, trots in carrying his pillow and gets in bed with me. Only today he isn't going to go back to sleep like a nice cuddly little boy who lets his mommy sleep in. He smiles and prods my eyelids open, repeatedly. I feign sleep, hoping he'll leave me alone and maybe fall asleep again himself. Then he starts punching me in the arm and yelling, gleefully, for me to "Wake up right now! You gotta wake up, Mama!" (He probably learned this tactic from the many, many times he's seen me trying to rouse his daddy. The punching and yelling, that is.)
This goes on for a good 15 minutes before he gives up and leaves. Victory!
Except then he comes back, wearing his cowboy boots (with the gym shorts and
t-shirt pjs), and announces to me—although for all he knows I am asleep—that he
is going outside. I don't care.
He has roused the household. My door is now open for a pack of excited dogs
and a very loudly purring kitten to repeat Dirt's attempts at getting me up.
They are slightly more productive, but only slightly. Then I hear my
2-year-old's loud, demanding, sing-song voice from her room down the hall:
"MaaaMAAAAAAA! MAAAAMAAAAAA!" She is persistent. DAMN.
I heave myself up and peel my eyes open. When I open Tuesday's door, she
gasps with excitement and then declares to me, while pointing to her diaper,
that she has a "tiny poopoo". It is not tiny. When she is clean and “fresh?”
(Tuesday pronounces everything inquisitively), I hold her over my head and toss
her, and something snaps in my neck. Now I can’t turn.
My kitchen sink is full of last night’s dishes. I have been trying to give
up my OCD need to do dishes right away, on occasion, but I loathe waking up to
a messy kitchen. The dishwasher is full of clean dishes to be unloaded, and the
countertop is icky. The flies love it and I hate them. HOW do they all get in
here? Both the washer and the dryer are full of laundry to be processed. The
trash is full and needs to be taken out. My bare feet have floor debris
sticking to them. The beasts all need to be fed—including children, dogs, cat,
and horses. But first: coffee.
I take some allergy medicine because I am super duper sneezy, and then the ibuprofen looks pretty good, considering my
lovely new pinched nerve, and then I see my vitamins, which I never remember to
take, so I have a nice time popping pills, and then decide to eat a loaf of
banana bread with a pound of butter on it, because, you know, you can’t take
pills on an empty stomach, and then, and then, I decided this sentence was
plenty long and contained just enough commas.
The aforementioned chores were completed around 10, during which time the
kids were sorta-kinna watching Bambi II, which I put on while they had their
breakfast. I end up watching their movies more than they do, and get so choked
up that I can barely speak. At cartoons. The kids are starting to play together
much nicer; I only had to freak out at Luke for being mean to Tuesday a time or
two. Later I let Dirt go back outside to play, but I am both too lazy and too
busy to accompany Tuesday outside, so she is forced to stay in the house with me
while I kill flies and continue doing chores, which present themselves one
after the other after the other (both chores and flies). She is mad about it
and keeps pleading with me about shoes.
Around 10:30 Dooley calls and says he was denied the use of his debit card
on a $1.32 purchase and requests that I investigate. Evidently the teller was
full of crap when she said yesterday’s deposit would post by this morning.
Stupid Wells Fargo. How I hate you. I call to complain but it doesn’t do any
good. We are charged overdraft fees and I am mad and vow to quit banking at WF,
again, but I won’t, yet, because their online bill pay is so darn convenient.
So I pay the cash advance fees and transfer more money from my credit card,
which I HAD paid off. Ugh. Soon we’ll be ballin’, though. In theory. Once
checks from Dooley’s new job get more regular and we catch up on stuff.
Dirt is back in the house now, and he tells me the floor is really gross,
and with his very serious face nodding slowly, he tells me we need to vacuum.
COME ON!!! I had just gotten to rest, literally JUST flopped down on the couch
to breathe while watching the special features on the Bambi II disc for the
second time (because it is equipped with “fastplay” and just keeps cycling). I am
learning how to draw Thumper. Then he actually brings out the vacuum and threatens
to do it himself, the cord poised near the outlet. So I get up and vacuum. It
DID need it. But then the crap vacuum shorts out half way through and I had to
finish an hour later.
Soon it is lunchtime. Wait. I skipped a part. Sometime after breakfast the lovable
monsters demand canned peaches. Dirt got me the can opener and everything. As
soon as I have them plated and served, I get “No thank you I don’t want that.”
(At least it was polite.) So I force them to eat most of the peaches, angrily
reminding them that THEY WANTED THE DAMN PEACHES IN THE FIRST PLACE.
The other part I skipped was the flood. Maybe around 9am? Dirt was being such
a nice, big boy entertaining himself outside and not bugging me—or so I thought—and
he decides our walkout basement needs to be watered. Or washed? Luckily the
thing is unfinished concrete, but he dragged the hose in and pumped in a pretty
good amount of water before I got twitchy and went to check on him. Upon making
the discovery that the front corner of the basement was semi-flooded, I yelled “NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!!”,
and Dirt, who is usually unperturbed by our reprimands, starts sobbing and runs
away. Then I feel bad, but clearly he knew what he was doing was, indeed,
naughty. I find him back inside watching Bambi II, curled up on the couch,
milking it. He says he’s cold. It’s 80 degrees out and pretty warm inside,
despite the ever-present clamor of the swamp cooler. Whatever. So I get him all
nicely situated on the couch with his pillow and blanket, and gently remind him
not to water the basement. Why? Um, because. Because…the basement is not
So now it’s lunchtime. Tuesday gets Kix cereal and Dirt gets leftover noodles…and
peaches. While they eat, I read an unhelpful article about discipline in a copy
of Parenting magazine (from three years ago—for some reason I still have it
from the time all the baby/kid companies find out when you have a baby and furiously
peddle their wares at you). I am thrilled when they go down for nap with very
minimal arguments a little bit later.
It is 1:30pm and I have a moment to myself. I freaking love naptime. I
thought I had a moment to myself last night when I escaped for a shower (literally
ESCAPED…I ducked out and ran to the bathroom at a moment when Dooley had both kids),
but a second later both kids were banging down the door: “What are you doing,
Mama?!” I yell for Dooley and he retrieves them while I shower, but the moment I
turn the water off, I overhear him saying, “Go get Mama!” I could kill him.
Seriously, dude? FIVE minutes? That’s all I get? I storm out dripping wet in my
towel and give him a cheerful earful. Ha. Cheerful earful. I am saved by a
phone call from my old college roommate and I am *allowed* some privacy for the
phone call. I literally lock the bedroom door.
So yay naptime. It has currently ended at this moment. I have enjoyed the
purging of my mind via this new blog, but now the darlings are awake, and
Dooley will be home soon. I turned on “Silly Songs” to momentarily appease
them, and am listening to a song about a purple cow who thinks she is a chicken,
all by myself, because they left. And now they want to watch Dragon Movie (How
to Train Your Dragon) for the hundred billionth time. Fine. I still can't turn my head all the way.
Gotta go. I hope you have enjoyed my run-on sentences and constant changing
from present to past tense.
Stay tuned for riveting tales of pillows. Although it might be a long time before I have enough material built up in my brain for rants of this magnitude.
How do your children/dogs wake you up? Do you watch the same movie over and over and over and over? What evil deeds have your kids done when you thought they were behaving and suddenly it was quiet?