ibeachalot's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Was I like this as a child? How do kids do it? How do they awaken at 5:40am, and in one continuous (I sure had a hard time spelling that this early in the morning... ) In one continuous motion, leap out of bed and are ready to face the day? I'm awakened by a plastic-faced teddy bear being plummeted onto my skull, then attacked by the owner of said teddy bear and his older sibling. "MOM! MOM! YOU 'WAKE? HUH, MOM? YOU UP? GET UP MOM! I WANT HONEY COMB MOM, WE GOTS HONEY COMB, HUH HUH HUH?!" So I stagger, blurry eyed and limping because my "lower 48" isn't nearly as awake yet, into the bathroom to pee, wash my hands and put my hair up in a clip so "mama sheepdog" can see what the hell she's doing. Upon the toilet, I hear my viewing audience inquire, "YOU GOING PEE OR POOP? MOM? HUH? MOM? PEE OR POOP, MOM? CAN I HAVE ICE CREAM FOR BREAKFAST? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE? WHERE WE GOIN' TODAY, MOM? HUH? HUH?" Why don't I lock my bathroom door so as to pee without onlookers, you ask? Because there's no end to what two children under the age of five can into in the time it takes me to do my business. I'd rather have the ear-splitting third degree than to have the living room set ablaze. I brace myself against the walls of the hallway as I make my way to the coffee machine, or the "coffee player", I mistakingly called it this morning in my slumber-poor stooper. Mornings like this, I utilize the "brewus interruptus" feature, where I can stick my cup (or my mouth, if I can't locate the cups) directly under the spout and immediately get the caffeine for which I'm desperate. Meanwhile, the not-quite-two year old has already popped in a video or DVD and has hurled the couch cushions onto the floor. I can't figure out why he insists on doing this. If I figure one thing out about him this year, I'd first like to determine why he smears his shit all over the place, then I'll worry about what he has against couch cushions being in their proper place. Since he is not yet talking, he approaches me, grabs my arm and says, ever so sweetly... "AAAAAUUUUUGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!" which I suspect isn't neanderthal for, "Mother, would you kindly fix me a nutritious breakfast when you get a chance?" As this is occuring, four year old Jameson is off screaming obscenities, because I wouldn't allow him to play outside with the "kangaroos" (rabbits - our yard is full of them), bring up the cats from the basement or finish his Spongebob ice cream purchased from the ice cream truck yesterday. Allow me to expound on that a bit. Yesterday, the kids and I were sharing a rare fight-free, picture-perfect moment, when we heard the glockenshpiel version of "Music Box Dancer" tinkling down our street. We stopped, put down our crayons and all three (Griffin was asleep) did a mad dash for our shoes. See, our Good Humor "don't let the name fool you" Man has a tendency to drive like a bat out of hell as he barrels down the street, just as content to mow down unsuspecting ice cream buyers, as to sell them goodies. We caught him on the opposite side of the street and I had to literally hold the children aside as he screeched to a halt. He got up from his driver's seat and said, "Heidi!" I don't know if he thought my name was Heidi or if that's some sort of redneck pleasantry greeting. This guy had greasy hair half way down his back, in sort of a balding mullet "style" and was missing every other tooth. His eyes were crossed (hence the bad driving) and he looked strongly as if his parents were brother and sister. We chose our treats and damn near got run over again as he pulled away from the curb like his head was afire and his ass was catchin'. We sat on the porch and enjoyed our ice cream, after I got over the initial fear of eating it. No telling what someone like Bubba Humor Man does with the goods when no one's around. Later in the day, we drove past our empty lot at the request of Evan who's getting used to the idea that we'll be moving soon. I even drove him past his soon-to-be-new school. I'm hoping he will become acclimated with the new school so it'll be a place familiar to him by the time he starts going. We were pleased to see that the lot on which our dream home will be built was already shady at 4:00pm. I can't even imagine shade at 4:00pm. I can't wait to be able to sit in a shady backyard more than two and a half minutes a day. After a stroll down future memory lane, we went to the dollar store so Evan could spend the dollar he earned ... how did he earn it? I think I offered him a buck to shut up or to stop killing his brother or something. He spent about an hour looking at every cheap, plastic piece of shit in the "piece of shit" aisle, before deciding upon a plastic piece of shit gun. Okay, don't start. I'm not a fan of guns, either, but I've learned something as a parent, especially a parent of boys. They will turn everything they get their hands on into a gun anyway, be it a peanut butter sandwich, a baseball bat or a cat turd. I gave him the standard gun talk and he made his purchase. I found some crafting beads for myself and some Arthur number cards for my future accountant, Jameson. Griffin screamed through the entire store. I think he wanted to walk, which is something for which I'm simply not ready. I had a hard enough time keeping J and Evan out of stuff. I actually (are you sitting down) made dinner last night! I knew it was a wholesome, nutritious dinner too, by the way the kids all turned their noses up at it. That's always a good sign. Well, I'm in need of another shot of caffeine, so I'm off to stick my head directly under the coffee player again. Have a great Thursday! Oh, and happy anniversary to Kevin. It was eighteen years ago today that I showed up at Kevin's door with my suitcase. The rest is history. 6:07 a.m. - 2003-07-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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