Married with Children
Some days I wonder, "How did I get here?!" On reflection it has been a great journey overall....And then there are mornings like today.
My darling husband waking and rushing off for a long commute to his work where I am sure he is thankful to not have to participate in our morning ritual of insanity.
After goodbye kisses all round, I'm on my own. On my own with a barking, whirling, 7-year-old Wheaten terrier who is ready to rid the neighborhood of squirrels this morning. He is egged on by an energetic almost-5 year old boy who is tearing around the house half dressed and jumping off the furniture as he imitates the frenzied pitch of a terrier about to combust.
Groping for the coffee pot I am focused on avoiding spontaneous combustion, myself. As our dog explodes into the backyard, letting all of our neighbor's know that we are up, the TV clicks on with ear splitting volume. I swear one of the first motor skills my son mastered was the TV remote.
Getting on with this morning I pour coffee, cheerios and kibble into respective bowls and head for the shower hoping for a few moments of silence. FLUSH! Scalding hot water and an insistent chorus of "Mommy are you done yet?"
Emerging red-eyed and only mildly scalded with half of one leg shaved, I discover that the dog has eaten both breakfasts and now I am making a sandwich for my darling child, who insists that he can't eat more cereal - breakfast only happens once a day.
Breakfast/lunch is over, the dog has gone back to bed with a full stomach to sleep off his early morning work out. Now comes the time my son and I both dread, the final sprint out the door.
He hates new clothes. It is not only a crisp fall day, but he has grown about 2 inches over the summer so his old clothes just won't cut it anymore. We square off. I try everything from salesman tactics, to flattery, to hard core negotiation. He doesn't budge. I find myself thinking "This child will make car salesmen weep."
Finally, after prolonged negotiation we agree that the fall coat will travel in the car to the school and hang on his hook - but he will not put it on. Sensing near victory, I agree and figure he might be willing to be swayed by his teachers at recess.
Leaving a rejected coat and a pouting child, I return home to begin today's writing session and wonder was it worth it? Do I love the life I have created? Am I glad to have given up my business in order to stay at home and to write?
ABSOLUTELY! Now where is my coffee?
My darling husband waking and rushing off for a long commute to his work where I am sure he is thankful to not have to participate in our morning ritual of insanity.
After goodbye kisses all round, I'm on my own. On my own with a barking, whirling, 7-year-old Wheaten terrier who is ready to rid the neighborhood of squirrels this morning. He is egged on by an energetic almost-5 year old boy who is tearing around the house half dressed and jumping off the furniture as he imitates the frenzied pitch of a terrier about to combust.
Groping for the coffee pot I am focused on avoiding spontaneous combustion, myself. As our dog explodes into the backyard, letting all of our neighbor's know that we are up, the TV clicks on with ear splitting volume. I swear one of the first motor skills my son mastered was the TV remote.
Getting on with this morning I pour coffee, cheerios and kibble into respective bowls and head for the shower hoping for a few moments of silence. FLUSH! Scalding hot water and an insistent chorus of "Mommy are you done yet?"
Emerging red-eyed and only mildly scalded with half of one leg shaved, I discover that the dog has eaten both breakfasts and now I am making a sandwich for my darling child, who insists that he can't eat more cereal - breakfast only happens once a day.
Breakfast/lunch is over, the dog has gone back to bed with a full stomach to sleep off his early morning work out. Now comes the time my son and I both dread, the final sprint out the door.
He hates new clothes. It is not only a crisp fall day, but he has grown about 2 inches over the summer so his old clothes just won't cut it anymore. We square off. I try everything from salesman tactics, to flattery, to hard core negotiation. He doesn't budge. I find myself thinking "This child will make car salesmen weep."
Finally, after prolonged negotiation we agree that the fall coat will travel in the car to the school and hang on his hook - but he will not put it on. Sensing near victory, I agree and figure he might be willing to be swayed by his teachers at recess.
Leaving a rejected coat and a pouting child, I return home to begin today's writing session and wonder was it worth it? Do I love the life I have created? Am I glad to have given up my business in order to stay at home and to write?
ABSOLUTELY! Now where is my coffee?
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