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6:15 a.m.: Awakened by my husband trying to be quiet while he gets ready for work. Sigh loudly enough for him to hear and put pillow over head.

6:30 a.m.: Kiss husband good-bye and get  whiff of own morning breath. Wonder if my hair matches. Wonder if husband regrets marrying disgusting blob laying in bed, but assume his eyes were closed and move on.

6:37 a.m.: Start pot of coffee, turn on news, curse  weatherman for his pack of lies about nice weather.

7 a.m.: Matt Lauer announces breaking news on Today show. Realize he says this every morning and wonder if everyone else gets duped by that announcement, or if it’s just me.

7:15 a.m. Wake up kids. First of 87,000 questions asked for the day. No response to Tessa’s, “Mama, if my arm fell off, would I still be able to wear a pink shirt?”

8: 40 a.m.: After 40 minutes of getting the kids breakfast, dressed, reviewing homework and answering 14,006 questions, drop Tess off at school. Head to coffee shop for morning latte while Jack kicks the back of my seat and sings about hating Batman while simultaneously loving Batman. Wonder if he watches too much t.v. then laugh to self, because that’s just not possible.

9:20 a.m.: Check email for job #1. Answer as many as I can before Jack decides he wants human interaction. Am able to get through 2 emails.

9:25 a.m.: Help Jack line up all 65 of his Thomas the Tank Engine trains, end-to-end. Get yelled at for placing 2 Percys next to each other. Wonder if he’s too young to be medicated for OCD. Consider knocking them all over just to mess with him, then realize that I may not be able to afford therapy for him in a couple of years, so start lining up Hot Wheels instead.

10:30 a.m.: Start first load of laundry. Unload dishwasher. Clean kitchen. Start another pot of coffee.  Wonder if I drink too much coffee. Watch Jack drag stuffed dolphin attached to dog leash down hallway while singing song about stupid pizza pie-yas. Proud of his attempt at accents, but concerned stereotypical cartoon Italian pizza man will file lawsuit against him for defamation of character.

11:15 a.m.: Build giant pile of stuffed animals in middle of living room with Jack. Hope he doesn’t break an arm as he jumps off top of couch into pile. Wish I was kid again and had no fear. Let Jack bury me in said pile and try to catch a quick nap. Get wind knocked out of me when Jack lands on stomach.

11:30 a.m.: Make dental appointments for everyone. Pay two bills. Wonder where the hell all the pens in the junk drawer go. Check email for job #2. Start lunch then do second load of laundry. Wish Alice was here to do this for me, then decide the Bradys need her more than I do. Let Jack wrap jump-rope around my leg and pull as hard as he can. Realize he’s surprisingly strong for a 2 year old. Wonder how to explain rope burns to husband.

12:20 p.m.: Beg Jack to go on the big boy potty. Watch in dismay as he gets off the tiolet and pees on the floor in front of it. Read “Yummy Yucky” for 900th time. Put Jack down for nap and find all pens from junk drawer stuffed under his blanket.

12:30 p.m. – 2:15 p.m.: Work job #1 while watching Oxygen channel. Wish I was borderline mentally challenged so I could get own reality show. Try to fix blinds that Jack pulled cord out of. Put away laundry. Vacuum rugs. Get mail from mailbox and realize this is the most exciting part of day. Die a little inside.

2:15 p.m.: Jack wanders out asking where his pens are and tells me Batman needs one. Tell him Batman carries one on his bat-utility belt so Mama put them back where they belong. Listen to him repeat question over and over. And over. Consider smacking him on back of head to fix broken record. Realize he would hit me back and decide to ignore him.  Show him “shiny rock” (fruit snack) and he stops asking the question. Love whomever invented bribery.

3:30 p.m.: Pick up Tess from school. Try to avoid Crazy Mom who has no regard for personal space or appropriate small talk. Turn to take Jack’s hand and find Crazy Mom standing half inch from my face. Try not to look like I want to jam pencil in her ear as she tells me her parents’ house is pink and that she doesn’t know the difference between a tornado watch and a tornado warning. Wonder if “what is wrong with you?” is an appropriate response to that. Realize she has probably miscalculated how many pills she’s taken today, smile, shrug shoulders and walk away.

3:45 p.m. – 5:30 p.m.: Answer 19,006 of my children’s questions while cleaning house and making dinner. Think housewives from the 60s had the right idea about popping pills all day long. Listen to kids scream at each over variety of topics. Close eyes and try to find happy place but see that it’s been burned to the ground by hoodlums. Die a little more inside.

6 p.m.: Continue working on job #2. Think working from home is awesome, but wish it was only 1 job.

8 p.m.: Repeat “brush your teeth” 17 times to kids. Threaten to throw away “Big Time Rush” CD if they don’t. Clean globs of toothpaste off back of door. Tell kids teeth will fall out if they don’t brush teeth. Tess tells me new ones will grow in so it doesn’t really matter.  Mentally applaud her comeback. Answer 45,309 questions ranging from farm animals to molecular biology. Realize stall tactics apparently work on me.

8:30 p.m.: Kids in bed arguing and yelling for us to come back in. Use Supernanny technique of ignoring them. Go back to work at job #2.

9 p.m.: Finally get to talk to husband. Realize there’s not a lot to say and sit in silent defeat. Kiss him good night and go back to work on job #1.

12:40 a.m.: Finally finish working. Realize I haven’t washed hair in 4 days. Decide to let it go another day and lay on couch instead.

1:15 a.m.: Argue with self about going to bed. Realize we both lose since we’re now too exhausted to sleep and have to get up in about 5 hours. Consider solitary life of pot pies, scratch tickets and chain-smoking. Remember trailer parks aren’t safe during tornado season. Fall asleep and dream about work.

6:15 a.m.: See above.

That’s where I’ve been.

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If you’re like me, and chances are, you’re lucky enough NOT to be, you watched way too much t.v. as a kid, so you have a warped way at looking at the world. I can make references to just about any t.v. show ever made. See that blog title up there? I’ve never seen one episode, but I know what it’s about. Okay, so it’s not that difficult to figure out, but still.

Anyhoo, so here’s my story: Jack has recently discovered how to lock a door. He does not, however, know how to unlock a door. You can see where this is going, right? So, last week we were in his room, playing with cars when my coffee kicked in. I sauntered across the hall into the bathroom, leaving Jack in his bedroom to throw his cars from one side of the room to the other (“They go faster that way, Mama!”) and take care of my business. I had turned the doorknob around on his bedroom door so he could  no longer lock himself in, so I had no qualms about leaving him for two minutes.

I heard him close the door to his room (he has a thing about open doors) and run down the hall to my bedroom and slam the door. I finished as quickly as I could and walked down the hall only to discover – that’s right – he had locked the door. Now, not really a big deal, except that we have a spiral staircase with an open loft in our bedroom (very retro, no?) and since my children have been known to fall down from a standing position, I was a bit worried.

“Jack,” I said in a very sing-songy voice. “Jaaa-aack, open the door.” Because he’s somehow learned how to do that in the last 30 seconds, I guess. No response. “Jackie, please open the door for Mama.” Nothing.

“JACK, OPEN THE DOOR,” this was through clenched teeth, not yelling. And then, a sickening thump. The first thing that popped into my mind is that scene from “Almost Famous.” I pictured Jack at the top of the railing on the loft, declaring that he is in fact a golden god and diving onto our lower-end carpet (came with the house) instead of a full swimming pool. Jack can’t swim, so either way, it’s a bad scene. “JACK!” Now, I yelled. No response.

I don’t know how to pick a lock, and even if I did, I don’ think I would have had the presence of mind to go and find something to fit in that stupid little hole and pop it open. I immediately kicked the door open to find, lying in a pool of its own literature, a dictionary. Jack, hands behind his back, glasses low on his nose, was standing up in the loft, looking down at the book he had assaulted.

I didn’t yell at him. I hugged him. I told him I loved him and that if he ever locked a door again, I would take every door in the house off of its hinges, which would be really awkward for him when he hits his teenage years. And then I reflected on how AWESOME it was that I kicked in a door, just like hundreds of t.v. cops have done in almost every cop show ever made. One freaking kick and it was open.

I need help.

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Yesterday Tess & Jack were jumping around and playing, having a great time. I was very proud of them – they’re getting to the point where they actually want to play with each other, which takes some pressure off me to try and come up with games everyone can play. This is why we had a second child, you know, to relieve the pressure.

So Jack jumps up and accidentally bumps Tess. She turns to him and says, “You. . . pickle. . . dick!”

It took me a second to process what I just heard and wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Do I point out that this word she used is naughty, or just ignore it? I know it’s just her putting funny words together, but sometimes naughty words are funny too. Until they are screamed at full volume in a crowded grocery store. When Jack repeated it, however, I had to address it.

“Tess, where did you hear that word?”  I have never said that. Not my style.

“Nowhere. It just rhymes.”

“Oh, okay. Well, let’s try not to say that again, okay? Try another rhyme.”  Thank Pete she didn’t ask why.

Meanwhile, Jack is running around the house squealing “Pickle Dick!” and laughing like a maniac. This is my life.

Mint-Cucumber Mojitos

Squeeze the lime quarters into a highball glass, and drop the limes into the glass. Add the mint leaves and sugar. Muddle well with the back of a spoon or with a muddler. Place the cucumber slices into the glass, and fill with ice cubes. Pour in the rum, then top off with club soda. Stir gently and serve.

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Apparently, this is how I look to my daughter.

After having lunch with a woman I used to work with, this is the conversation I had with my daughter in the car on the way home:

Tess: Mama, that lady Julie is beautiful.

Me: You think so?

Tess: Yep. You’re not beautiful, but you’re kinda pretty. Mostly you’re okay.

And so it goes. I’m mostly okay, which I guess is better than mostly lacking.

It might have something to do with the fact that I just cut off 9 inches of my hair. It could be that I’m starting to look really old. Or it could just be that my daughter has very high standards. Which is good, I applaud that.

So now, I’m going to drink my sorrows away.  And maybe get a facial this weekend.

Milky Way Martini

2 oz vanilla vodka

2 oz chocolate liqueur

1 oz Irish cream

Combine all ingredients in a shaker, and serve in a cocktail glass without ice.

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I’d like to offer a parenting tip. 

When you’re busy making dinner and trying to keep the kids occupied, do NOT let them get out the crab crackers to play with. Tess and Jack decided to have a crab cracker fight with the lobster claw shaped cracker tools we have. I heard them getting into the drawer, but being the ever vigilant mom that I am, I assumed they had the plastic salad spoons, so I didn’t stop to check it out. It started innocently enough, but how I imagine it happened was: Jack got into position and whipped the crab cracker open and slapped Tess across the face with it. Kinda like a ninja.

I heard her crying and yelling at Jack but assumed it was just another one of her big sister outbursts. She walked over to me with a big red mark on her cheek and man, did I feel horrible. I promptly disarmed them and put them up pretty high so there would be no re-offenses. All is well now, though, there is no scarring or anything like that. But I just wanted you all to be aware of the dangers of crab crackers.

Do Be Careful Martini

1/2 oz gin

1/2 oz Contreau orange liqueur

1/2 tsp grenadine

1/2 tsp lemon juice

Mix ingredients in a cocktail shaker over cracked ice. Shake well & strain into a chilled martini glass. Enjoy, and do be careful.

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This is how I felt all week.

You know how you wander into your kids’ bedroom at three o’clock in the morning and crawl into the bottom bunk of the bunk beds and then soon after your four year-old falls off the top bunk and it scares you so you sit straight up and hit your head on the bottom of the top bunk and then smack it again on the ladder as you’re trying to get up and make sure she’s okay?

Yeah, it’s been one of those weeks. Here’s a cocktail to start off the weekend:

Fuzzy Martini

2 1/2 oz vodka

1 oz peach schnapps

1 slice peach

Combine vodka and schnapps in cocktail shaker over cracked ice. Shake and strain into chilled martini glass. Garnish with a slice of fresh peach.

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