Mourning Glory

I don’t know what possessed me, but here is a rough idea of what the first 3 hours of my day has held so far.  I initially thought that I might try the whole day, but there’s not a person alive with enough time and attention to read it.  Happy Thursday, one and all:

4:45 AM  Wake up to Stella giving a random dissertation about green triangles followed by a performance of the Wonder Pets theme song.

4:50  Give up on idea of further sleep.  Allow Stella to pull me into living room where I turn on TV (Blues Clues is about to come on as aforementioned Wonder Pets are going off).  Quickly put ponytail holders in both heads of hair – hers and mine.  Pee.  Change diaper.  Make tea and a cup of chocolate milk.  Feed cats.  Grab iPhone and hope to get a moment to read news before being summoned.

4:59  Summoned for something.  Decipher what something is.  After providing 2 stinky chips and listing possible options, turn on Brainy Baby DVD.

5:01  Brainy Baby is not enough.  Need flashcards.  Flashcards become snowflakes falling on the living room carpet.  I pretend not to see as I try to do a Sudoku puzzle on my phone.

5:02-6:00 Repeating cycles of being pulled to the pantry where I “open please,” play “Where is Stella?  Where is she?” as she pretends to hide by the tub of cat food in the bottom of the pantry, return to couch for about 45 seconds, get questioned as to the whereabouts of the “big game” (= daddy’s iPad where her apps are stored), requested to change video, and bear hugged.

6:01 Make coffee and proceed to big bedroom where I wake up Will and begin to ready myself for work.  Will is now “in charge.”  Will does not want to be in charge.  It takes 6 minutes of Stella alternating between doing butt drops on his head, bellowing at him, and attempting to pull him from the bed by a single finger before he relents and becomes ambulatory.  I ignore this and apply makeup and clothing to my corpulent body.

6:25  I decide in a moment of brilliance (dementia?) that I need a smoothie for breakfast and decide to make it1.  I do this despite knowing I still have to gather all my crap, start my car so it can warm up, and probably make some toast to consume in the interim.  While it only takes seconds to dump some frozen fruit in a cup and add a splash of milk and yogurt, I neglect to factor in the difficulty that my stick blender will have in pulverizing the fruit without any defrost time.  Yogurt and milk splatter across me and the kitchen while the stick blender sounds as if it wants to die.  Panic ensues.  I begin to shriek at Will that I’m running late; at this point he (wisely) offers to help.  I send him to start my car so that it will be at least a trifle warmer than the outside ambient temp of 34 (yes, we’re weenies here in the deep south) and then finish my toast.  I am covered in yogurt but have no time to change.  I swipe at my black (of course) sweater with a dish towel and figure anything that I miss I’ll just blame on Stella.  After about 3 more minutes of hardcore cursing under my breath, I finally get my proverbial shit together and leave the house.

6:38  Get in car, vowing never ever to make smoothies on a work morning ever ever again.  Holy moly, the car is freezing despite being running for at least 10 minutes.  The AC is on.  Of course.  Drive to work cussing myself and the stupid climate of Louisiana, where we regularly oscillate between 75 and 34 degrees in the winter.

6:51 Pull into parking garage downtown.  Park in closest spot an 8 month pregnant woman can find.  It just so happens it was next to a douchebag that can’t color in the lines.  I take the spot anyway and leave this person one of my unofficial “official” parking tickets accusing him of parking like an asshole.  Grab all of my crap and make my way across the street into my 7th floor office, realizing that I have to pee when I stand up.

6:59  Begin the 18 minute wait for my computer to turn on and boot up.  Look in despair at the Xmas crap I have to take down today and make a list of all the stuff I need to accomplish during my one office day this week.  Feel the exhaustion begin to set in.  Pop my 2 morning Tylenol tablets so that my back and pelvis will function, sip my coffee, and try not to rupture any blood vessels in my eyeballs while trying to drink my smoothie from a narrow-mouthed water bottle– my smoothie with the viscosity of glacial ice.

7:15 Long for nap and prepare to post blog.  Realize that I will have to be awake and very busy for a minimum of 14 more hours.  Feel some consolation that I have the slow-cooker ready for tonight’s dinner2.  Realize that I haven’t peed yet, and that if I don’t go right this second, the inmates (literally) that clean our office building will have at least 75% of the restrooms in the building closed off despite the fact that they’re supposed to adhere to a schedule during which no 2 floors are closed at the same time.  Make a conscientious decision not to look at my torso in the mirror in case I have dried yogurt spatters on the dark side of my belly (you know- the underside that I can’t see) so that I can legitimately look surprised and embarrassed if someone points something out later.

1 I’m really pipe-dreaming about Bobby Flay coming to  my house to whip up some chicken and waffles with a nice jalapeño-honey sauce, accompanied by grapefruit, coffee, AND a smoothie.  The latter 2 things were the only things that were going to happen so I got overly ambitious and made it so.

2 To hell with you, Bobby Flay.  You won’t come prepare meals for me?  I’ll make some mediocre crap myself!!

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
This entry was posted in House and home, Parenting, pregnancy and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to Mourning Glory

  1. bjklinetobe says:

    I just peed myself…just a little bit!! I needed a good laugh, thank you!!

  2. I’m exhausted for you. 4:00 is too early!

  3. my27stars says:

    I want to cry for you as I giggle at this. 😉

  4. dorkdad says:

    This is why ladies have the babies. I know of no human being with a Y chromosome who could handle all that without going all Bruce Banner on the world.

    • larva225 says:

      Now that I’m older and wiser, I really am OK with somewhat traditional gender roles in a household. I do laundry and my husband fixes things. It’s a working system. I do, however, often wish he would rise a bit easier/earlier from time to time, just so that he, too, can hear about triangles at 5 AM.

  5. Pingback: I A.M. What I A.M. | Adventures in Babyknitting

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