It is Saturday morning, the house is silent save two things: my husband’s rhythmic breathing interrupted now and again by a loud snort (I contemplate a strategically placed pillow but think better of it) and the diatribe in my head.
“I am still tired why am I awake? Maisy has play practice at 9 Haddie and Sam have Karate at 10 then Haddie has the party at 11 and I have to get a gift for that first oh and shit Sam needs a gift for his party at 4 I will just go to Target after I drop Maisy off then get the other two to karate but I will have to pick Haddie up early so she can be at the birthday party by 11and did I even rsvp to this party? where is it? shit where is that invite…?”
I am up for good. Chris groans. I slam my fists down on the bed a little too hard. I am annoyed and he hasn’t even spoken yet. He gets to go to work this morning. Which means that exactly 17 minutes before his first patient is due in his office, he will crawl out of bed and into the shower. Moments later, clad in his best no-iron button down, cargo pants and Grandpa loafers he will practically skip out the door as chipper and refreshed as can be.
Meanwhile I start making a color coded flow chart.
8:52 AM: Maisy Fight #1
“Yes we do have time to stop for your sister to get a donut.”
“Because we don’t have any milk for cereal..your father finished it off yesterday.”
“Thank you for your concern for Haddie’s health but she WILL eat a donut and we WILL stop for that donut BEFORE I drop you off at school.”
“You are not allowed to say any of my decisions are ‘so ridiculous’.”
9:07 AM: Target site of Haddie Fight #1
“No Haddie we cannot get Jackson an iPod.”
“Because Jackson is 7 and that is a very expensive gift.”
“I realize that Lexie is 7 and she has an iPod but her parents gave that to her for Christmas.”
“Nevermind, I just don’t have enough money for an iPod.”
“Yes, they do take credit cards at Target.
[audible sigh here]
10:59 AM: Fire House
Jackson’s lovely mom is there to greet us. Crap, is it Kim or Kathy?…I try to visualize the invitation..all I see is a K….” Too late, I am shaking her hand politely but my mouth needs to be put out of its misery.
“It’s Kathy” she corrects me kindly. “Are you dropping off or staying?”
What? You mean people intentionally stay for these parties? Besides, it’s in a firehouse–there is arguably no safer place for my little girl to attend a party—alone.
I mumble something nonsensical and finish with a clearly enunciated “So, see you at 2!”
Kathy gives up the kind face for the downright sympathetic one.”Oh. the party actually ends at 1.”
Right. I knew that.
I am mentally reworking the flow chart.
It turns out that loss of an hour really screwed me up.
11:55 AM BJ’s (where I now shop for sundries in an effort to save money and where Chris has purchased every single pair of jeans he owns)
I am standing in line when a barage of texts sends my phone into a frenzy.
Mom lunch?[smiley face]
Only 15 min to eat.[concerned face]
starving! [wide open mouth face]
Chick Fil A? Member?[ sneering face]
No, I did not “member”.
Panicking, I pile my 400 lb bag of apples, 84 rolls of toilet paper, 2 dozen eggs and numerous other bulk items I will assuredly waste half of into my giant cart. As I hurdle toward the receipt checking security guard weilding a hole puncher, I see the ready-made food and I am struck by a moment of genius. I can get back to school a heck of a lot faster if I get M her lunch here! And look at that, they actually have chicken!
How bad could pre-made chicken tenders steaming in a sealed plastic bag sitting under a heat lamp be?
She will probably thank me.
12:07 pm: I have made the drop and am finally heading home to pee for the first time in 6 hours.
I only made it to the traffic light when the texting assault begins again.
Chx gross [sad face]
So starved [sad face]
How could you?[angry crazy forgot my meds face]
I have a headache.[that will make Mom feel guilty face]
12:14 pm: Chick Fil- A Drive Thru
I don’t know why but something about devouring my very own 8 piece and fries before I make the turn out of the drive thru makes me feel a little better.
12:20 pm: Drop second, more acceptable lunch to a disgruntled 12 year old
She snatches the bag from the window and shakes her head [what am I going to do with this mother of mine face] as she storms back into the building.
Wait till she sees I forgot the ketchup. [evil happy vindicated face]