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.
