After many suggestions from friends and family. "You should write this down!" "You should write a book, I'd read it!" I decided a blog was just about as much effort as I was willing to do at this point. I mean, I have three kids, (four if you count my husband) a college career I embarked on before I realized that it was actual work, and I'm supposed to throw in "me time" (whatever that is) for good measure. I'm busy. So busy in fact that I'm sitting here on my couch writing this and craving coffee but unable to wash out my cup and make it.
Actually I'm sitting here on my couch writing this and craving coffee instead of going to my college website and finding out which assignments I've missed and, you know, doing them. Did I mention I'm busy? Maybe the correct word is lazy. Although, I prefer the term "motivationally challenged".
So I've started a blog. I certainly have enough stories to fill it. Just this morning my daughter flopped across my back as I stretched across the bed loooking at facebook on my phone (see I'm busy!) and breathed her morning breath directly into my ear and nose. As I tried not to A) gag or B) toss her off me in a panic before gagging she proceeded to read the facebook feed and comment on everything she could see. Which just added more force to the morning breath fog she was covering me in. I asked her nicely to get off me as she was "hurting me". (more like burning my nostrils but I was being nice) So she sits up and begins to knead my lower back and butt. "Its like Jello!" Thawck slap. "Its like kneading bread dough!" Smack giggle.
Its 8 o'clock in the morning. I haven't had coffee yet. The baby has yet to make his sleepy whiny "moooommmmyyy.....ughhhhhhhh" entrance and I know as soon as I tell lil miss divalicious she needs to get dressed the war of the wardrobe will begin. I have neither the time or the patience for all that's about to ensue, let alone stopping the current insanity happening to my jiggly bread-like behind. And to be honest this is as close to a massage as I'll ever get. Just as I decide I can ignore the comments my middle son leaps onto the bed and begins to beat me like I'm a drum. He ended with a flourish that would have made any bongo player proud, but actually hurt like hell and had me leaping up and yelling like a harpooned whale.
This is how we began the morning routine of getting ready for school. Anyone else have one of those? And I don't mean a normal family one where everyone takes turns and doesn't have to be forced to brush their teeth like the toothpaste is full of arsenic. Ours goes a little something like this. "Get dressed and get ready for school. No you can't wear that/eat that/do that. Its almost time to go. Hurry up! No I don't know where your shoe is. Its time to leave. I'm leaving. I'm out the door. Get in the truck. Wait where's the baby? Why aren't your shoes on? You need a sweatshirt. Because you need one that's why. If it warms up you can take it off. I don't care what everyone else is wearing/eating/doing. We're gonna be late...we need to go. GET IN THE TRUCK. GET. IN. THE. TRUCK."
That happens every morning. And amazingly no one has been strangled or smacked senseless yet. (although I have thought about and threatened it) At any given moment I could describe my life as living in a circus or a zoo. Its insanity around here, but I love it. And I hope you enjoy reading about it.
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