So here we go.
6:45 AM: The alarm sounds, and I remove the skinny 8 year old child off my arm, who has been resting there, fitfully all night, because one of the cats shat upon his bed.
6:47 AM: Begin the process of waking up the inhabitants. This includes stepping over various CouchSurfers, forever tolerant of our morning routines. So each child is addressed according to wake-up preference. The eldest prefers to have his face touched a bit, so as to not startle him. The girl just needs to have the atmospheric pressure in her room shift on a minute level. So I open her door. She wakes with a gleam in her eyes! The youngest is similar to the oldest, but a presentation of food needs to be made within 10 minutes of emerging into the awake realm, lest a person find their arm being chewed upon. No kidding.
7:00 AM: Mom jumps into the shower, leaving the door ajar, since people will be coming in to take their smelly, concentrated morning piss, whilst I shampoo my hair. They do this, no matter what I say, you understand. Why fight the inevitable?
7:10 AM: I jump from the shower in a towel, toothbrush still in my mouth, while somehow being able to direct carpet traffic. Socks must be found, 4 cats are screaming in vain for breakfast and attention, hair ties are hiding on various doorknobs, there's a child with a mohawk IN the fridge (I'm not kidding), the girl is pilfering though my closet, while the eldest generally does a near perfect rendition of a granite statue. He's kind of cute and helpless, yet irritating due to his size and ability to block the hall. Meanwhile, the foreign guests of my house sit back and leisurely drink coffee, soaking all the mayhem in. I love it.
7:30 AM: Breakfast somehow makes it into the mouths of the inhabitants. Please realize that this includes no standard held dear to ancient breakfasts around the planet. No tea and boiled egg in our house. There's usually home made spelt bread loaves on the stove, or Clif bars hidden in drawers. Coffee is made, poured into a thermos, the suppliments to the vegetarian lunches served at the alternative school, Trillium, are shoved into the bags of the carnivorous boys. They canot live off of hummus alone. Someone generally loads up the dishwasher and feeds the 4, sometimes 5 felines in our house. Shoes are applied to feet (hopefully), bags are hunted and eventually grabbed, coats and scarves utilized, and we're off!! Notice, gentle reader, how the mention of the children's teeth being brushed is not addressed. This is where I pick my battles.
7:45 AM: We've arrived in St Johns neighborhood to retrieve the teenage son of my dear faux wife, and begin forcing Clif bars and conversation on him. He appears to have been coached through this, because his face is choosing to smile. This isn't a usual part of our morning, but when need arises, we flex our schedules to make it happen!
8:00 AM: Traffic is getting heavy at this hour. We dodge commuters and pedestrians, bikers and skateboarders in the rain and fog. Sometimes, along the way, we drop off our rent and mail. Not today. Screw that.
At each stoplight, I sign a check, and then another check, as the eldest son hands them to me, and tells me what to write on them. What he's doing, is helping me decide which package of school photos he doesn't want me to purchase. So we have package 'A' for all children involved. At the final stop, the afore mentioned mohawed child is instructed to partake of his ADHD medication, which is stored in the glove compartment of the car. This allows for maximum time use on the useful pill that God gave us, thankfully. Yes. God made Vitamin R. While doing this, the child decides to ask me (per morning ritual) what the glove box is for, and why we call it that.
The guest child does not break his foggy morning silence.
8:15 AM: With a careful turn into the neighborhood off Killingsworth, my children are disbursed through the gates of Trillium. I watch as the last pair of mismatched argyle sock legs disappear into the building, and then attempt to make my leave of the street-side. Not so, because the other parents have deftly blocked me in! Waiting. Curling eyelashes while smiling and waving. And waiting. Hair goes into a chopstick. YES!! First gear engaged, thank you Mrs. Green for moving your VW.
8:20 AM: The guest child is taken onward to his destination further into the northwest district. Sometimes I think I'm funny, so I tell him to "tuck and roll", which doesn't even elicit a response. I watch him lumber up to the school. Kid is seriously a foot taller than me.
I can prove it.
8:30 AM: I continue along my trek, by taking a detour up into the West Hills of Portlandia, to grab a freaking awesome coffee from my friend, the Espresso Arts magician. She gives me this opportunity to take a few moments to drive through the lush greenery and falling leaves as I wind my way further up into the gorgeous landscape. I can drive a stick shift in 4 inch high stilettos, mind you.
8:45 AM: The drive down 26. Yes. This is not delightful, but the Colbert Report is...
9:10 AM: Finally, I sit down to my desk and use the nifty system to clock in my presence. Then we load up all the programs and sites I use daily, including Twitter. This sensory overload somehow keeps me sane. I listen to Pylon and Joan Jett. I answer phone calls from brokers who have lost their educational certificates, and assume I can produce them out of my arse. They could NOT afford the fee on that maneuver.
9:30 AM: I am verbally assaulted by a man from the apparent depths of his personal testing anguish, when he realizes he's proctored himself. The facts are stated, the instructions are reviewed, and still, he fights. Damn, he's tenacious. But, still what a cheese-head. I smile, and contact Travis, who is very similar to Max Headroom in his elusiveness), to have him re-set the test that Mr. Grouchy-panties "f@*ing better not have to retake". Done. I have regulated.
10:00 AM Remember to call in the kid's appointments to have the eldest child's cast removed in 2 weeks, the youngest needs his meds reviewed, and the girl would like to talk to her therapist about her new school. Done.
11:00 AM Documents are typed, Arizona Real Estate has it's supposedly completed paperwork organized and the the realization hits. There's missing paperwork. No harm done, Miss Education Specialist at the agency is a damn great lady, jovial too!! My head is clearing, and I'm beginning to feel the oncoming of a sunny day.
So, while I'm tying this at 5:38 PM, I'm thinking of the homework I have in front of me. Waiting. I've given Michelle my list of paintings for a permanent dwelling at Gina's place, called Numinosity, taken a look at the web sites necessary to make a road trip happen very soon, and have assessed the damage to my psyche. Not Bad!! I think we will have pasta and home made sauce tonight, along side the last surviving zucchini from the garden. As long as the raccoons haven't gnawed on it first.
Good evening all.
2 comments:
Reading this makes me very, very tired. Knowing it has the opposite effect on you makes me even more tired.
It takes a village, no?
xo
My goodness. What a whirlwind. May I note that a second reading of your morning's events reveals that you may have done your hair and put on shoes, you were otherwise naked throughout the day? Must have been awkward, or maybe you were moving too fast to see the funny looks!
Nice post. Godspeed. -T
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