Friday, March 04, 2011

The Details of the Day

Skipping today's photo challenge.  It's supposed to be a photo of my best friend.  I can't seem to deliver right now.  First:  I have limited friends.  I already posted Homestead under family.  I already posted my mom. 

Don't get me wrong . . . I have friends.  I have friends for casual conversation, "my girlfriend that works with me on PTA,"  or "my friend from college," or "my friend from nursing school."  But FRIENDS, as in REAL friends are pretty limited.  When I'm having a particularly shitty day, I don't have a friend who lets me root my ass to her love seat while we watch Hoarders and compare notes on our lives.  I don't have handfuls of friends that I see every Friday night for Bunco or Girl's Night.  I don't have girlfriends that have my back, my kids or will handle my life if it slides down the crapper.  I have acquaintances by the truckload.  I have very few friends.   

So, today, I'm blogging about the details of the day, as so eloquently stated by my FRIEND.  Today, I thought alot about the details of the day.  The long, long, long list of things that I do-slash-we-as-women-and-mothers DO, as in accomplish every day.   From time to time, I think it's worth recording.  It's an important page in my history.

Today, by me, Elle.

My eyes opened at 6:21 this morning mostly because my overfull bladder was sending signals to my brain.  I awoke to the shower running (wonder if shower running is related to bladder which is related to waking.  Hmm.)  MOTH midway through his morning routine.  I tried to slip out of bed unnoticed by Mimi, who was snoozing next to me.  She was hot and pressed up against my back like a tiny human parasite.   MOTH left, I slipped out of bed, Mimi woke and started crying . . . all in the same four minutes.  Bathroom visits, ponytail and slippers.  Mimi and I woke up Little.  Then Middle.  Then Big.  We met in the kitchen for waffles.  Middle played barista.  Big sat in a lump.  Little didn't show up, and when I called for him, a teary voice choked back, "I can't find the right shirt."  It was pajama day in his class.  Despite our efforts to lay out the right things the night before, he changed his mind.  Tears streaking down his face, he couldn't find his Ironman pants OR his Lego Star Wars top.  Crisis averted when I swapped laundry and found his pants.  Threw the still damp stuff on the bed to deal with later.  Produced pants, fed the swarm, cleaned the kitchen, did hair, morning bathroom routine, tennies for jumprope for heart, $5 for a water bottle, Friday read stuff, planners, lunches, snacks . . . .

Loaded the kids.  Picked up the munchkin down the street.  Dropped four off at elementary school.  Took Mimi to pre-school.   Forced a smile and a "what's wrong, Sugar?" to the one in the parakeet pants.  "I not like my pants ya-day.  I want to go nakee."   Go ahead, fellow moms, just try to talk a stubborn three-year old out of that one when you are actually on your way into the school.    Dropped her off.  Thank Gawd Miss Cole was there today.  She eases the awkward transition from coat hanging into an actual activity.  God bless the ones who get that.

On the phone already.  Texted the ring leader.  Gonna be late for meeting at 8:30 . . . . which location again?   Ran home, fed the dogs, in and out of the shower in 2.7 seconds.  Pits and tits only.  Super quick makeup, as trendy an outfit as I could muster, wet hair and power jewelry . . . kennel the dogs, lock the doors, into the car . . . only five minutes late to breakfast meeting.  

Discussion . . . much, much, much discussion.  Plus a birthday celebration and gobs of brainstorming.  I'll fast forward through that part of the morning.  Because.  That's why.   The best part was texting a bag lady during the meeting.

Left the meeting, hit the bank.  Opened a new checking account.  And a savings account.  And got a bonus debit card, which I will shred.  Applied for a new home mortgage card . . . enrolled in identity protection.  Updated the information on Mimi's account.  Made a deposit.  Took a good look at my credit.  Hit Costco . . spend $52 in gas.  Holy cow. I'm so glad my tank wasn't actually empty.  Made a return.  Got $39 back.  Spent $16 in flowers for my (and I use this term loosely) girlfriend's birthday.   

Picked up Mimi.  Thankfully, she was still wearing pants.  Made good on the promise to buy her a book from the book fair if she kept her britches on.  Brought her home.  Lunch, reading, potty, swapped the laundry, fixed the damp pile on the bed,  noticed my phone battery is dead.  Plugged in.  Texted MOTH.  Kenneled the puppy frogs again and headed for school.  On Fridays, I run the school store in Middle's homeroom.  More on that later, but the kids love it and I hate to beg out.  Dropped off birthday flowers for above mentioned girlfriend to her son with strict instructions to hand deliver and be careful.  Please don't swing them like a light sabre.  Mimi flopped around under my chair while I shuffled sixty kids through the store.   Loaded to come home.  Brought five kids home.  Dropped one off.  Fed snacks, made chocolate milk, let Little run around in the back yard.  Listened to Big verbally barf her day out while she sat on the kitchen counter and swung her ever-stretching legs.  Helped Middle and Little with markers.  Made coffee.  Planned dinner.  Saw Middle race through the kitchen with a roll of duct tape.  Saw Big follow her with a long length of rope.  Heard them scheming.  Heard myself say, "you can not tie him up and duct tape him to a chair!"  Sent Big and MOTH out the door for the last volleyball game of the season.  Took a phone call.  Made a phone call.  Swapped the laundry.  Put away a bunch of crap.  Checked email.  Responded asap to Middle yelling, "Mom . . . she's BARFING!"   Said a quick but heartfelt prayer of thanks for hardwood floors and clorox wipes.  Stripped a kid, cleaned the floor, almost hurled, found a bucket . . . . took another phone call, talked about budget and the cost of a hydraulic playground addition with bars.  Stretched Middle, loaded again, dropped Middle off at gymnastics.  Sang really loud and told alot of jokes, had a freeze out and made promises to keep Mimi awake on the way home.  Failed.  Carried her in and encouraged Little to practice piano.  Sat with Mimi and played with her floppy arms until she woke up (sort-of) on her own. 

Now:  it's 6:20.  Middle gets home in an hour.  Big and MOTH will pick her up.  I'm blogging with Mimi in my lap.  She's singing the "two-three" song and the "I like pancakes" song.  She has a barbie band-aide on her forehead.  She's nakee again.  Except for the tube scarf which she has taken to wearing as a giant body-condom.  She gets inside that scarf and waddles around like a penguin.  She's happy.  MOTH is texting.  He won't make it to pick up Middle.  Nix the bath I'm thinking about with the little ones.  Little is now fighting with Mimi over a Lego ship and a bat castle.  I'm going upstairs to put that fire out.  Then, more laundry, dinner, I'll pick up Middle & come home to feed them, clean them & tuck them in.   Also, backpacks, lunchboxes and Friday folders.  Because . . . this much is true . . . the details of the day don't take care of themselves.

3 comments:

Heather said...

You are incredible. You're also good birth control. No way I'm ready to attend to the details of a day like this. As beautiful as it is, and as gracefully as you handle it. It takes a special kind of person.

Elle said...

Shucks. Thanks, I think. Remember this: I'm several, many, quite a few and alot of years older than you are. When you are an old bitty like me, you'll be ready . . .

Plus . . . MOTH made it for Middle - good because the one with the barbie band-aide on her head actually is staying very close to a yak-sac, barf bin, chuck bucket . . . . and that allowed for dinner sans dixie plate and a clean little boy :) We're cruising along . . kickin' the ass of the infamous witching hour!!

Homestead said...

I love the details.