It's official. The school year is in full swing. My kids started their second full week of school yesterday, and the whining and stalling picked up right where it left off last June.
My morning begins tamely enough. The Oracle gets up and has breakfast, and he usually nudges me awake as he's about to get into the shower. It's roughly 6:30. Today I woke up a little early thanks to the odd scrabblings of Chessie who, it seems, had "something"stuck to her butt and was trying to bury it where it finally fell off. This is one thing I hate about cats. They sleep anywhere and everywhere. There is no limit. This morning, she was sleeping on a tote bag on a shelf, and the offending offal landed on the tote bag. I probably could have saved the tote bag, but I was skeeved and angry and sleepy. Throwing it out seemed easier.
So, all right, I'm up. I make The Oracle's lunch and I start nudging kids. I love/hate this part of the morning. I love to kiss and cuddle my warm, sleepy children. I hate when they're just awake enough to start arguing with me.
My first stop is Mighty B. Mighty B. was out of bed by 7:00 a.m. almost every morning throughout the summer. Yesterday and today I needed a crowbar to get him out of bed, and I eventually tempted him into the living room by turning on and cranking up the volume of Monster Jam. Then I turned the TV off until he got dressed.
How about Precious Daughter? At least she's consistent. She loves her bed and hates leaving it until either her empty belly or her full bladder forces the issue. She sits up in bed and chats with me, and when I think we're "good to go," I tell her to get dressed and leave her to check B.'s progress.
B is staring at Monster Jam. He is dressed, so I give him his shoes and ask him to put them on. I go back to Precious Daughter's room, and she is nowhere to be seen -- Oh, wait!! That lump on the bed means she went back under the covers. Aaaagh.
I sharply order Precious Daughter to get up and get dressed. She apologizes and picks up her shirt.
Amid this circus, Kryptonite is dragging her purple elephant back and forth across the bars of the crib, the plastic ring linked to its back plinking along much like a prisoner's tin cup against his cell. The Oracle is trying to get ready to go to work, so I need to get his lunch together. Oh, and he needs socks.
Tell me, does anyone else live in a state of perpetual laundry turmoil? I haven't been "caught up" laundry-wise since B's arrival in 2003. There is always stuff to wash, and there's always stuff to put away. Quite often we're burrowing through baskets of clean laundry in search of whatever it is we need. Sometimes an entire basket of clean stuff gets picked apart and worn without ever seeing the inside of a drawer. This is one of those times. I dig about in a basket, come up with socks, and stuff the clean (and wrinkly) clothes back in the basket.
I check on Precious Daughter's progress, and I nearly scream at her to get her tailfeathers out of bed before I drag her out by the feet. I give B. his cereal, and I have to keep reminding him to eat if he wants Monster Jam to stay on.
Precious Daughter stumbles out of bed toward the bathroom.
I finish packing The Oracle's lunch (sandwich, yogurt, Diet Crack with Splenda, crackers, carrots, and a lovely-looking apple) and dump his coffee into the Thermos.
The Oracle is running late, so I drive him to the train station which is a mile away at the most, screeching at Precious Daughter to get her clothes on and nagging Mighty B into another bite of cereal on my way out the door.
Less than five minutes later, I'm back. Mighty B. still isn't eating, but at least Daughter is dressed. I slap a bowl of cereal in front of her and start nagging the spoon to her mouth. The bus comes in less than ten minutes, and their lunches aren't ready. Hooray for Spaghetti O's!
Nag, nag, nag. They have to brush teeth and Precious Daughter still has to comb her hair. I stack their backpacks and lunch bags on the porch and usher them outside. To Precious Daugther's dismay, I brush her hair in under fifteen seconds because I hear the bus rolling up the street.
Once I shove them on the bus, I go back inside to feed Knucklehead and Kryptonite.
What I really want is a nap.