Going to bed last night I was stressin’. ” What the hell am I going to blog about next? I’m not a good fiction writer and these people are starting to have expectations!” Oh silly me, don’t you know your life?
These whack jobs I call my family don’t disappoint (not in the ‘here is some crazy shit to laugh about category anyway). At 7am they started throwing awesome material at me left and right!
So let me rewind several hours. It’s midnight. I’m drooling in my sleep dreaming about
Bradley Cooper my husband. I’ve got an elbow stabbing me in the neck and about 2 inches of blankets covering me because, you guessed it, there’s a kid in my bed. I hear that dreaded scream/cry/cough combo over the baby monitor. Fabulous! Bradley My husband and I were just boarding the private jet and headed for the Bahamas. I stumble out of my bedroom, see my husband (hey, I thought he was on that jet) tapping away on the keyboard with a Diet Coke can and a mound of files and folders stacked knee-high beside him. I head into the girls’ room, reach into the crib and lift up my snot-nosed, cranky 10 month old as she twists and turns and of course, claws my face up with those razor blade baby nails. Side note: trim baby’s nails today. Ok, so some rocking, some nose suction, some praying to God to please not turn this into an all night affair and I put my sleeping beauty back into her crib. Night night. So I leave the room, go to the desk to see how hubby is holding up. He’s out of Diet Coke. This ain’t good. I do my good wifely duties. Hugs, little shoulder squeeze, apologize that his job totally blows sometimes and has unrealistic expectations, kiss-kiss and back to bed I go – where my 4 foot tall child has somehow taken up 15 feet of space in my bed.
Alright, so I know I mentioned 7am, and at this point I’m only up to about 12:30am but this is how much freakin’ happens in that short amount of time in this mad house! I’ll speed it up.
1am – more crying, more snuggling. 2am – I think hubby has come to bed, I cant be certain since I have a foot in my eye socket. 3:15am – is she seriously hungry in the middle of the night? I thought we passed this stage. Do I hold my ground and dare not establish a new bad habit or do I assume it’s a growth spurt, pop a bottle in her mouth and hopefully get 4 hours of sleep before the morning chaos? I’ll let you guess what I chose.
**Now** it’s 7am. Beep-beep-beep. Stupid alarm. Snooze. Beep-beep-beep. Stupid alarm. Snooze. Beep-beep- Waaaaaahhhhhhh! Why doesn’t that baby have a snooze button? And we’re off ……….
Make a bottle. Stick baby in highchair with Cheerios. Wake up 9 year old – always fun. Let the dog out. Let the dog in. Let the dog out. Let the dog back in. Head to the kitchen for coffee and realize it’s now 7:35am. We gotta leave in like 10 minutes. Well actually like 17 minutes but I have adopted my own concept of time as a mechanism to try to get somewhere on time. It’s a weird rounding system and I’m the only one who knows the code. I yell out “10 minutes!”. Now this is when the real fun starts.
“Mom I want cereal!” screams the 4-year-old. “Cereal in the car!” I say. “Cereal on the couch!” he says. I trip over the big ass dog, what the F is he chewing on now? One of the baby’s Little People, fab. Get to the pantry and think to myself “What am I here for??? … Oh yea, cereal.” Hubby hollers across the house “Is it cold outside??” (yea I know it’s January but here in Florida its 80 degrees one day and 34 the next and apparently my husband has 17849 apps on his phone and the weather isn’t one of them). I say “Yes, it’s cold.” He yells out, “Is it cold? Or DAMN it’s cold??”. Seriously dude? Layers!!!
Walking back to wherever the hell I was going, I”ve forgotten by now. Nine-year-old yells (yes lots of yelling here) “Mom I need breakfast!” I yell “Go find food!”. Pick up baby who is also yelling in her high chair because apparently she’s been in there since the morning started and I forgot – don’t judge me, there are more kids than adults in this house so it’s easy to lose track. Change diaper, find random Cheerio stuck to her butt. Wait. I never got dressed! Ok, just roll with it. It’s totally a drop-your-kid-off-at-school-in-pjs-and-a-hoodie kind of morning. I fling baby on the left hip, diaper bag on the right. Now nobody has shoes on. Seriously?? Why do pairs of shoes always get separated in this house? Hunt down shoes. Watch 9-year-old take an eternity to put shoes on, is she high? Slap those God awful light-up Iron Man sneakers onto the 4-year-old’s bare feet and again… we’re off!
Poor hubby, he is trying to offer bits of help here and there but has almost no clue where to even begin to jump into this circus. He helps me load everyone up, close the mini-van up and we stand in the driveway looking at each other and bust out laughing. “Can we just jump in your car and get the F outta here?” He seriously considers it. Kisses, hugs, have a good ridiculously busy day of travel and doing important law stuff for much less of a salary than you deserve Honey!
Finally, I sit behind the wheel of my mini van, hit the garage door closer button and start to back out of my driveway. My hand instinctively reaches down to my cup holder as I feel my body begin to relax and anticipate that first sip of hot, delicious … SHIT!! I never made my coffee!