I like to think that I don't overschedule myself. In my perfect world I have taken the girls to all the extracurriculars that they excel at, and I come home to the dinner I prepared in the afternoon. I then leisurely bathe them and cuddle with them as I read a chapter from "The Secret Garden." We then say prayers and they fall asleep like the angels they are.
HA! Sounds great and I actually know women who do this. They are called Stepford Wives.
Welcome to Tuesday afternoon in my household. I am chatting on my cell phone as I walk half-way up the street to meet the girls. They don't walk off the bus, they explode out and are yelling something that sounds like an obscenity to each other. I think I hear it and I threaten their backsides if I ever hear that again. All this time my friend is on the other line, but you know what? She doesn't care because she's doing the same thing with her kids. We mutter how much we need a beer and hang up.
I run to catch up with the kids and trip over the shoes scattered all over the entrance of the homestead. But wait, there are only three socks. Oh yes, Sophie(the hound) is doing the boody shake with one in her mouth.
I then put out a "stinkin" snack. It's "stinkin" because it doesn't involve the two C's. Candy and Coke. Then half-hour to relax. Relaxation consists of staring dumbly at the t.v. or listening to my two yell at each other. Loving sisters.
Homework! I love that I get to go back to third grade. No place else I want to be transported back to. I quiz, cajole and push them to finish so we can get out the door. As I stuff them into shorts and t-shirts, I hear a voice say.
"My book report is due tomorrow."
My teeth are worn down because I grind them to stop the scream in the back of my throat.
"Well, I guess we are staying up tonight." I speak extra loudly.
"It has to be non-fiction."
"Well, we can do it on my life story."
I push them into the car. I run back into the house because the dog thinks the house is her personal toilet. I shove her in the crate and yell at the girls to quit playing in the front seat.
I drive a mile not realizing the emergency brake is on. I drop one off at dance and listen to the "beauty pageant" moms talk about how tall my kid is and "How are they going to do the lines?"
"Um, when you signed her up did you know we have a recital in December?" one of the sharks ask.
"Yes." I really want to scream "For goodness sake, just let the poor kid dance. That is all she wants to do. Screw your lines." What the hell is a line anyway?
I then jet to drop the other at Girl Scouts. The Girl Scout leader really needs help but I wave her away as I drive to pick the dancer up. Of course, dance runs late because the "moms" are trying to improve the line with their suggestions. My little girl is looking happy and oblivious to her tallness or ruining the line. And it had better stay that way because if someone says anything to wipe the smile off her face, well they just better not. I don't have time to rough them up in the parking lot.
Back to Girl Scouts. As penance I clean up and tote out the Leader's supplies to her car. On the way home I remember that we have not had dinner. Protests from the back seat as I go to Chick-Fil-A. I love it, they don't. Who's the parent?
Home again and back to homework. The little one gets Mom's famous 30 second shower. She is tired and only comes out of her room three times for me to "scratch her back". Okay, this is where I get selfish. I have a book-report to help with, but "The Amazing Race" is on. So, I install the older one next to me. She writes and watches "The Amazing Race" out of the corner of her eye. I give her a stern look, but Phil is on.
Off to bed. No book read, no laying down because I have laundry to fold. I throw the blanket on her and kiss her. I think I will wait for Snark to get home and then fold laundry. You know that doesn't happen. I fall asleep, and the laundry is laying there as it has been for the past week.
You should hear about my Mondays.
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