Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Living the Dream

Getting up in the morning is hard. Just plain hard. 5:30 comes entirely too early in the morning. The dog is nestled in my crotch and Ruanita has her arm around my waist. I simply can't find the resolve to untangle myself and climb out of bed. So I lay there. I skip the shower. When I finally get up, I lean over the tub and wash my hair instead. I have oily hair. I can skip bathing, but the oil slick on my head has to be washed daily. I probably could have taken a shower in the amount of time it takes to wash my hair, but it feels quicker this way. I apply an extra layer of lime verbena Body Butter. Just in case. I stop at Bruegger's on my way to work and pick up bagels for my team. I tell them I am thanking them for being so welcoming my first two weeks on the job. In reality, I am bribing them to continue being nice to me as I bombard them with half a million questions a day. I am not above buying affection. I drink too much coffee. And forget to eat breakfast. Despite buying two dozen bagels, I forget to eat. By 10:00am, I feel as though my skin in crawling with ants. Or worse...centipedes. Caffeine is creepy in high doses. I should have given a little more thought to the polyester pants I wore to work today. All day long, I hear swish, swish, swish. I feel as though I am being followed. At some point in the day, I find myself humming...The wipers on the bus go swish, swish, swish. My right trouser sock will not stay up. Only the right one. It drives me insane. It falls into a huge heap around my ankle. When I cross my legs, the unsightly hair covering them is exposed. Grrrr. Perhaps I should shave. Of course, if I can't find the time to bathe, shaving certainly isn't going to happen. I spend the day in meetings. Trainings. Preparing for an ISO audit. Reviewing appeal cases. My grammar Nazi ways are going to be my undoing. Missing commas drive me mad. Run-on sentences irk me to no end. I leave at 3:45. Calling it a day. I almost get rear-ended by a semi on my way home as a distracted driver runs a red light to turn right in front of me. My bag--and the laptop in it--go flying into the floorboard. Luckily, I got my new laptop bag yesterday. And it is highly padded. I make it home just in time for the daily 5pm hysteria. What is it about 5:00 that makes my children act like crackheads on a three-day bender? Are they tired at 5:00? Hungry? Yea...me too, but you don't see me running from room to room screaming like a banshee. Though I admit, I am tempted. I cook dinner while Ruanita does "First in Math" online with Lucas. As hour of online math games. My idea of hell on Earth. Dinner is turkey burgers and roasted potatoes. I eat. Ruanita eats. The kids move food around on their plates as they haggle with me about precisely how many bites they need to eat before they can be excused. Then it's homework time. Lucas complains. He "hates" homework. I do, too...though I don't tell him that. I scratch my head and wrack my brain to come up with an answer to "3 triangles is a trapezoid. 6 triangles is a...what?" Ummm...okay. A parallelogram, of course. I am a 39 years old professional woman. I consider myself somewhat intelligent and moderately literate. And I am completely dumbfounded by third grade homework. Tomorrow is "blue day" in the twins' kindergarten class. I spend half an hour rummaging in junk drawers and toy boxes in search of a couple of blue items for the kids to glue to their blue poster. Eventually, we settled on a Smurf figurine from a long-ago-eaten Happy Meal and a tube of "Peeps" chapstick. From Easter, perhaps? I set out clothes for the kids for school tomorrow. Blue clothes, of course. Then its time for our nightly tooth-brushing struggle. Sophie is vehemently opposed to brushing her teeth. Why? No clue. Perhaps...no, really, I have no clue. We put on pajamas. Supervise as the kids (slowly and with a great deal of grumbling) pick up the Legos that had been poured all over the boys' bedroom floor. Then all five of us--and the dog--squeeze onto the couch for story time. I read as the kids jostle around and complain about who is touching their foot or breathing in their ear. Finally, bedtime is upon us. The kids sloooooowwwwly trudge toward their beds. They are slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter. We tuck in the little monsters. Kiss them. Hug them. Tell them that we love them to the moon and back. Then we tell them that we do not want to see their faces again until morning. They do not heed our warning and get out of their beds numerous times. I crash into the chair in the living room. Ruanita falls onto the couch. I commence writing this lackluster blog entry as Ruanita begins to snore. I should go to bed. I need the sleep. But honestly, I am enjoying the peace and quiet. Going to bed will only hasten the morn. And tomorrow...I have to do it all over again.

Yep, I'm living the dream.


Madgew said...

WOW, I am exhausted just reading this. Try getting a toothbrush from Target that she can pick out that has a timer that buzzes and it helps the kids brush long enough and it is fun.
Hopefully, things will get easier but I doubt it for about 13 more years until they go away to college.

Jessica said...

Love the turtle stampeding through peanut butter! :)

Post a Comment