Never, even in my college days, did I ever sleep in the clothes I wore all day. I don’t even do that while camping. This week, however, is what I like to call a “behind the eight ball week.” Not only have I grossly crossed the line of neglect in regard to personal hygiene, but I’m also getting pummeled by a slew of parenting and scheduling mistakes. Yesterday my kitchen was vandalized by markers while I washed my face. I spent so much time cleaning that mess that the dishes piled to the sky, and the den became a Mount Everest of toys and books and …rice? Oh wow, I just won’t look there.
Our house is like Camp Lejuene on a weekday morning. I wake with my face pressed to the blue plastic wall of the toddler bed to the trumpet-wail of the princess who can’t find her parents, and thinks she’s been abandoned. I fall out of the dwarf bed and look at the clock. I have exactly twenty minutes to dress myself and three kids, then feed us all before getting the two older children to school.
Next I’m in a frenzy gathering clothes, searching for matching socks, grabbing bowls, pouring Cheerios, getting juice boxes, tying sneakers and comforting the princess. I slide into the living room in my socks, throwing coats at kids and barking orders. Big Brother is assigned “bus watchman” as I change baby Bigfoot’s diaper and bundle him into his coat. Meanwhile, the princess is throwing coasters and watching them smash on the slate hallway near the front door. I should be screaming right now, but I hold it in, remembering it is Ash Wednesday and I have to work on having patience.
The bus is coming down the road as I take away the coasters and push the group out the door. “You deserve a spanking young lady, for breaking those and making a mess!” I say as she and the baby climb into the car. I shut the door and take big brother out to the curb to meet the bus.
I’m strapping the princess into her car seat when I notice her big olive-eyes glassy with tears.
“I’m sorry I broke your china cookies, mama.” She mutters. I kiss her and we hug. That’s when I realize: I forgot to put on underwear.
I thank God for puffy winter coats that hide fashion mistakes as we pull out of the driveway. I rush the princess into her preschool. I forgot her tuition check. A mom is holding the door for me. I greet her and realize I completely forgot to take the princess to her son’s birthday party last weekend. I’d apologize right now, but I forgot to brush my teeth before I left the house. I smile and run away instead.
Back home I put the baby in his pack ‘n play so I can take a shower and change. Oh yeah, and eat. I run through the living room and smash into a suit jacket hanging in a door frame, trip over a belt and slide on a leather dress shoe, landing on the floor. Milk Man gets home very late from work, and last night he undressed as he walked through the house. This habit of his makes me CRAZY!!! I pick up the portable phone and dial his work number.
“What’s up, babe. Hey, can I call you back? I’m in a meeting.” He says, cheerfully.
“No you can’t because I’ll be in the shower. I almost twisted my ankle just now on your shoes. I should really….spank you like a kid!” I growl, truly exasperated.
Milk Man is silent…Then I hear: “YEAH!”
I hang up. Maybe, if I wrap my coat around my head and spray-paint it white there is still a chance I can join a group of cloistered nuns in Tibet.
Our house is like Camp Lejuene on a weekday morning. I wake with my face pressed to the blue plastic wall of the toddler bed to the trumpet-wail of the princess who can’t find her parents, and thinks she’s been abandoned. I fall out of the dwarf bed and look at the clock. I have exactly twenty minutes to dress myself and three kids, then feed us all before getting the two older children to school.
Next I’m in a frenzy gathering clothes, searching for matching socks, grabbing bowls, pouring Cheerios, getting juice boxes, tying sneakers and comforting the princess. I slide into the living room in my socks, throwing coats at kids and barking orders. Big Brother is assigned “bus watchman” as I change baby Bigfoot’s diaper and bundle him into his coat. Meanwhile, the princess is throwing coasters and watching them smash on the slate hallway near the front door. I should be screaming right now, but I hold it in, remembering it is Ash Wednesday and I have to work on having patience.
The bus is coming down the road as I take away the coasters and push the group out the door. “You deserve a spanking young lady, for breaking those and making a mess!” I say as she and the baby climb into the car. I shut the door and take big brother out to the curb to meet the bus.
I’m strapping the princess into her car seat when I notice her big olive-eyes glassy with tears.
“I’m sorry I broke your china cookies, mama.” She mutters. I kiss her and we hug. That’s when I realize: I forgot to put on underwear.
I thank God for puffy winter coats that hide fashion mistakes as we pull out of the driveway. I rush the princess into her preschool. I forgot her tuition check. A mom is holding the door for me. I greet her and realize I completely forgot to take the princess to her son’s birthday party last weekend. I’d apologize right now, but I forgot to brush my teeth before I left the house. I smile and run away instead.
Back home I put the baby in his pack ‘n play so I can take a shower and change. Oh yeah, and eat. I run through the living room and smash into a suit jacket hanging in a door frame, trip over a belt and slide on a leather dress shoe, landing on the floor. Milk Man gets home very late from work, and last night he undressed as he walked through the house. This habit of his makes me CRAZY!!! I pick up the portable phone and dial his work number.
“What’s up, babe. Hey, can I call you back? I’m in a meeting.” He says, cheerfully.
“No you can’t because I’ll be in the shower. I almost twisted my ankle just now on your shoes. I should really….spank you like a kid!” I growl, truly exasperated.
Milk Man is silent…Then I hear: “YEAH!”
I hang up. Maybe, if I wrap my coat around my head and spray-paint it white there is still a chance I can join a group of cloistered nuns in Tibet.
By Loren Christie
Hey-- let me know if there's still room in that group of cloisted nuns in Tibet. I could use a little vacation myself!!
Hope this week goes better for you...
Posted by: Karrie McAllister | March 11, 2009 at 07:20 AM