The minivan is getting to the point where it’s just sort of craptastic. I had to have the battery replaced the other day, the automatic sliders seem to be losing some of their automatic-ness and there’s a small slit in the upholstery in the back – you know that never ends well..
But then today as I was leaving the market, it caught my eye in the parking lot. The minivan looked good. Like when you see someone and something’s different about them, maybe it’s their hair, or maybe they’ve lost weight, you can’t quite put your finger on it, but they look good. Better. That’s how it was when I saw my minivan.
Then the sliding door opened at the market and I walked out into the sunny parking lot and realized…
It wasn’t my minivan! Mine was in the next aisle over.
The kids get out of school today and I have, yet again, wasted one hundred and eighty days of possible toy and general kid crap recon! What was I thinking? I have the XL contractor sized black garbage bags, and lord knows we have the toys and kid crap. Why didn’t I get rid of it while they were in school? In less than six hours they’re going to bring even more crap home from school! And then for the next 10 weeks, they’re going to be up in my business if they catch me with a big black garbage bag.
Oh well, no sense dwelling on it now. Their last day is my last day too. I’m certainly not spending the last free time I have doing a toy recon. Plus, since they’ll be home now, maybe they can start picking up their own crap! I think I’ll start the chore “grab bag” here this summer. But not until the second day, I don’t want them to wish they were still in school!
I’m not usually in charge of the morning routine. I mean, I used to be, but then I just stopped getting up with everyone, and what do you know, they left me alone!
They get up at 6:20 with my husband, eat breakfast and start to get ready. I usually roll out of bed around 6:45-6:50, come down, make my coffee, check my email and then wrap up any loose ends for them before they head out at 7:15. It’s a pretty good gig.
The other day my husband said he was going mountain biking and that I’d probably have to drive the kids to school. Fine. No big deal. It was two days away…
Yesterday my daughter came into my room and woke me at 6:24. I asked her what she was doing, and she told me that I had to get up, I was driving to school. I snapped back that I didn’t have to get up until 6:30!
Two minutes later, she was back. “What?” I shouted. “The dog puked,” she answered. Crap. Now I had to get up. 6:28. And we were out of coffee.
I came down and asked where Daddy was. I mean, what kind of chaos was this? Waking me up, dog puking? Oh…mountain biking. Duh.
I proceeded to look for the emergency rubber gloves I keep under the sink for moments like this. Couldn’t find them. I finally found one loose one and was so grateful for just one. I quickly slipped it on as I was grabbing the paper towels and disinfectant. And the glove had no thumb! I held my hand up and sighed. My son said, “Oh, yeah. Um…I cut the thumb off for a craft.” Really? For a craft?
I got the mess cleaned up and continued to sort of sleep-stomp around the house. The no coffee thing was starting to kick in and I was getting cranky.
My son began making the lunches. I over heard my daughter ask him if he had done everything else he needed to do to be ready. Moments later he was brushing his teeth and she was on lunch duty. Finally, they told me it was time to go. Finally, I was going to get some coffee!
I dropped them both at school, got some coffee came home and relaxed. I was meeting friends for a run in an hour. I had plenty of time to email, Facebook, blog.
My husband came in at 8:30 and asked if the little guy was ready for school. The little guy?! I forgot all about him. Not left him home alone forgot, but not dressed for school forgot. So my husband started rushing around getting him clothes and stuff and I still sat. Relaxing. Then he asked if I made the little guy’s snack. Um, no.
Then it happened. He spit my words right back out at me. “If I knew I was going to come home to this, I would never have gone!” Oh man, I’ve said that one a gazillion times. You’d think I’d have a pretty good response to it then. But I didn’t. I simply told him I was cold. Cold! That was my excuse? As soon as it came out of my mouth I knew it was too lame for him to buy it. Why didn’t I have a better one? Like we were out of coffee?
Guess it didn’t matter. He came home from work last night and told me he was going for a mountain bike ride again this morning. Looks like the jig is up. No more sleeping until 6:45 for me and leisurely drinking coffee until they leave. Unless…I screw it up so bad he decides to only mountain bike on the weekends.
Last week the toilet in the kid’s bathroom became mysteriously clogged. I should mention that my middle daughter has been spotted with toilet paper practically wrapped around her like a mummy at any given toilet time. She has been asked and told on several occasions not to use so much because the toilet could possibly get clogged…blah blah blah. I sound like a broken record. I should probably add in that my little guy is no stranger to the toilet paper either. So we do have a dilemma on our hands. But things happen and we try to take them in stride…most of the time.
Well, this particular time that the toilet was clogged I was unable to unclog it with the usual methods. Of course my husband was traveling and wouldn’t be home for two days and being a good wife I really didn’t want him to have to come home to that. So I plunged and plunged to no avail. I finally called my husband and asked him if there was anything else I could do before calling in the professionals. He told me he actually had a special tool in the garage for these things and if I wanted to try it would probably work. I gave it the old college try, but when my hands started to feel bruised I finally gave up. And so I did what every mom home alone with three kids would do. I closed the door and waited for dad to come home.
When he finally came home, he was able to do the impossible and all was right on the home front again. Or was it?
During those 2 days I asked the kids if they thought maybe, just maybe, they used too much and it was ok to say if they were the one who did the deed. I wasn’t mad – I just wanted to know. Nothing. I heard nothing for 2 days. I started to stew about no one coming clean. So that night I asked them again. They all claimed they didn’t use that bathroom. Well, I can attest that someone most certainly did use that bathroom. There was nothing else I could do, but let it go.
Fast forward a week and it is – you guessed it…clogged again. I said, “That’s it!” Someone must pay.” And I meant it. I sat the kids down and I told them they were going to have to pay to get a plumber.
Lucky for them my husband came to their rescue again and it was fixed. But the next morning I got this letter from my middle daughter:
May 8, 2011
Dear Mom and Dad,
Thank you so much for
fixing the bathroom toilet,
that must have ben
disgusting! I’m so sorry!
I will definitely reward you
guys for that!!!! I wish someone
would’ve told the truth. But
we’re over that now, so let’s
not talk about that. Oh, by the way
Happy Mother’s Day!!!
I love you guys both so much,
more than you can imagen!!!!!!!
And on the back she attached a 20 dollar bill.
I ran into a friend at preschool drop off the other day and she looked amazing. So, I told her. And she replied, “Thanks! Ugh, I haven’t had a shower in like a week and so&so’s been puking since……”
I seriously didn’t hear a word after that. I was too consumed with the idea that I had showered, that very morning, shaved my legs, spent 35+ minutes blow drying my hair into submission and even used bronzer and blush.
And still, if you placed us side by side and asked random people on the street who had spent hours getting ready and who had a puking kid and hadn’t showered – the people would not pick me as the one who’d spent hours getting ready.
What the what!?