Thursday, February 26, 2009

Good morning, sunshine

I'll admit it: I'm not a morning person.

But every once in a while, a morning comes along that reminds me how much I hate mornings. Take today, for instance.

1) At 5:45 this morning, Jeff comes to the sofa and wakes me up and I have a stiff neck from hell. (Here's something fun: Jeff snores like a friggin' bear. And is self-righteous about it. So last night, for the very first time ever, I got pissed off and slept on the sofa and fell asleep to a decidedly un-funny Conan O'Brian rerun and got about five hours of sleep and woke up even more pissed off. I swear to God that if Jeff does not address this snoring issue, things will get nuclear around here. Dude had better bring me flowers tonight. He won't. Maybe you should call him and tell him it would be a damn good idea. But I digress.)

2) Before I am out of the shower (where I plan my husband's untimely demise, because I do my best thinking in the shower), before I have a cup of coffee in my irrational self, Caleb wakes up screaming. Perfect. He screams for two hours. Perfecter. Evan then wakes up and whines at me for an hour. Perfectest.

3) Cue thunderstorm. Jensen is petrified of thunderstorms and plasters himself to my side.

(Backstory: our family has some collective post-traumatic stress disorder regarding thunderstorms. A few years ago we had something pretty awful happen during a storm and, turns out, we're all a little freaky about it. We need therapy.)

So here's where we are so far: I am homicidal, Caleb is screaming, Evan is whining, and Jensen has reverted to age three. Okay, on with the story.

4) Because the children have secretly decided they hate me and want me to move out, my breakfast consists of lukewarm coffee and stale rocky road brownies that I shove in my face as I stand over the sink while three children attempt to climb my legs.

5) I decide to take Jensen to school. Seems wise. As much as I am tempted, I choose not to make him wait at the bus stop in the hail and lightning. 'Cause I'm nice like that.

6) I indulge Evan and tell him he doesn't have to wear shoes in the car. And to play along I wear my slippers. After all, we're just dropping Jensen off and don't have to get out of the car.

7) About a mile down the winding road in the pouring rain in morning traffic, Evan yells, "I'm sick! I'm going to throw up!!!" I yell, "NO!!! Hold it! Don't let it out!!!" And I do not know what to do because we are not wearing shoes. I pull over on a country road and frantically look for something-- anything!-- to use as a barf bucket. Fortunately, yesterday I bought an enormous pink Rubbermaid container (for Valentine's decorations, because I like my storeroom to be color-coded, no joke) and left it in the van. (Some might call that being lazy. I call it planning ahead.) And that's all I have for him. So there he sits, crying and compliantly puking into this pink box that is bigger than he is. And from the back of the van Jensen is yelling, "This is just great! I'm going to be late to school!"

8) We drive to school in a van that reeks of throw-up. But: Jensen wasn't late! (And I have to cling to that fact because it's the only damn thing that went right all morning.)

9) We get home and I think the hell must be over. I decide I'm going to pick up the pieces and get on with my day. I take the Rubbermaid box to the sink to wash it out. And as I am rinsing it out with the sprayer, the sprayer explodes and shoots water and vomit everywhere. All over me. All over the ceiling. (Did I mention that Evan ate blackberries for breakfast?)

And that's where we are so far. Caleb's napping. Evan's curled up on the sofa (you know, the place I slept last night...) with an old trash can and a baby blanket, watching Sesame Street. And I'm wondering what kind of cocktail is acceptable at 9:50 am. Scotch seems a little heavy for this time of day. Tequila shots? Gin? Beer? I'll let you know what I decide.

Update: As I prepared to hit "Publish" about five minutes ago, our brand-new bazillion-dollar television just quit working and won't turn on. And Evan is still sick on the sofa and can't go to school today. And Caleb woke up screaming from his nap. And I've decided on tequila. Just so you know.


  1. I have 4 bundles of joy (two of which are 17 month old twins) so I sympathize with you! I so enjoy reading your blog. You all are so entertaining. I love starting my day off checking on your thoughts for the day!! :0) Your "For Real" series is profound and you have a way in your writing of taking us to that moment. You are a gifted writer and I know from experience, writing about painful memories, is a way to heal and a catharsis for you.

  2. I think Bloody Mary's are appropriate, but it sounds like that might be a bit about a couple pulls from the moonshine jug with the XXX on the label?

  3. I almost feel guilty laughing at this post. I hope your day got better.

    And for the record, I think mimosas and bloody marys are acceptable breakfast drinks.

  4. OMG, that's a day that sucks donkey balls.

    The ones I've had like that, (there's been a few, but I've blocked any out at present), that make you want to run away from home....or just crawl back in bed and cry and wish no one knew where you were.


  5. OK, I also feel a little guilty having laughed out loud at this post. I just couldn't hold it in when I got to the part about the sprayer coming loose...crapola indeed! Hope things improved after that. Tequila can fix a lot of things...or cause more is a fine line...proceed with caution.


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