Spring Chicken

Published April 11, 2017 by sarcasmica

NOT!
My kids are on spring break and it’s gonna break my brain. We have a deal in our house where the kids can have crappy sugary cereal only if they are on a school break. .. and it’s supposed to be within reason.

This morning has me wanting to burn down every box of Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter Crunch in all the land.

I grabbed a box the other day because they were only $1.99. I mean, it’s cheaper than a vat of ice cream and even more delicious. Seemed fool-proof.

This morning I wake up first at 3 to handle someone’s bad dream, then my back screamed me awake at 6am and somewhere around 7 my husband’s alarm went off. Needless to say I was just shy of Disney Princess when I finally gave in and woke up.

My oldest, my dearly beloved eldest offspring, came tearing up the stairs virtually asking to not make it to 11. I nearly obliged… nearly. Instead I tried to convince him sitting in my master closet would be a great “reset” for the morning.

He didn’t quite fall for it.

Throughout the struggle I discovered both children had no less than THREE BOWLS of cereal this morning.

mmmm kay. let’s not do that again. Cap’n Crunch is now Cap’n Flushed.

So games were lost for the day, crying ensued, I didn’t care, and I moved right along…. into my daughter’s bedroom whereupon I find that her male hamster is either pregnant or bloated. The male parts convinced me bloated was more realistic. The little guy trotted all over in the ball on the floor, though. The clincher was the smooshy poo he left on the hamster ball wall.

Pets are not for the faint of heart. His fur was unkempt, his tummy bloated – more on one side than the other – and he had a wet tail…. hence “wet tail” was assumed.

Then I get a text from the playdate mom “are we still on for this morning?”

Shit.

Because i’ve been in a furniture vortex for the last three days, I completely misunderstood a very simple email exchange that was indeed in English stating a drop off and pick up time. My muddled brain just couldn’t comprehend it though and so I dropped them off 25 minutes late cutting the play time short by nearly half an hour.

What the f*ck ever.

Mixed into all of this was a deadline to order a sofa we finally agreed on over the weekend. We discovered a satanic game the furniture stores seem to all be in on. It goes something like this:

“We love this, how long is the sale on?”
“Tomorrow is the last day.”

This one store in particular added a fun new bonus round.

“Pick your own pillow fabric! Customize! Circumsize! Dramatize!”
“Great! What are our options?”
And a wall opens up with a thousand fabrics to choose from.. but wait! There’s more! There are online options, too!

Choosing a pattern and fabric for the cushions on this couch took more intervention, iteration, and discussion than naming either child. .. and it all had to be done in less than 24hours.

So I dropped the kids off, peeled out of the drive way, got home in time to circulate through the patterns online, chose my third combination and finalized it, scanned, emailed, coordinated with all parties involved in color-choosing our new house and studied up on all manner of wet tail antidotes.

Then I picked up the kids because, BOOOOOP! Times up! Ran to the pet store, phoned a second furniture order, and proceeded to wait around for 10 minutes until the one soul in all of Petsmart could coach me on the right combo of things to fix the rodent pet. The veterinarian housed right inside the store could not help me. *face palm*

I got home in time to organize a little quiet time for the kids where I got to doze on the couch and fantasize about a nap and then it was off to fencing practice.

This is where I say how thankful and happy and lucky and blessed and wonderful life is because we have our wonderful cherubs of perfection. … but in reality this is the day where from the minute your eyes open, you just can’t wait to punch it in the throat, bury it, and call it a day.

I am looking very much forward to tomorrow when my biggest worry is whether or not I will leave my volunteer gig with all the parrots with all of my fingers.

No time outs, no video game management, no cereal police, no refereeing, just beaks and poop!

 

 

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