I am starting this blog as a form of therapy. Lots of things run thru my mind and I have decided that sometimes, they are pretty darn funny or just plain weird. So, why not let the world in on my little slice of peculiarity. I was recently informed that I must live in my own little world. Well, I replied, who doesn't?
We become so bogged down with our mundane everyday lives that we DO tend to live in our own little world. Now, I am not saying my world has a purple sky or bubble gum trees, although, that would add a nice change and a heck of a conversation piece, I am just saying that when you have your own family, job and so on, you do tend to live in your own little world.
My world consists of two children (slightly off kilter like their mother), a computer/DC geek for a husband (whom I love dearly because he GETS me), two 18 pound cats and several fish. It also consists of a part-time job, 2 car payments, a mortgage and a zillion dollars in student loans. You know, the average family by today's standards.
I get up everyday get ready for work, roust the children from their slumber and get them ready for school. Now, my question is this...why is it, that even tho you put them to bed at a decent time on a school night- let's say just for shits and giggles 830 pm- that you have to extract them with a crane in order to get them up at 7 am? BUT, when the weekend rolls around and you all have the opportunity to sleep in, they are up at 630 am wanting breakfast and cartoons?!? This has always amazed yet rankled me.
My children are of an age that they can fend for themselves for a couple hours in the morning whilst I slept in. They can get their own cereal, turn on the tv and settle in for a couple hours of Spongebob or Phineas and Ferb and just remain quiet while mom and dad sleep in.
No such luck. After they are up I hear bickering about which cartoon to watch, what cereal to eat, who took the last of the milk and why aren't there any Fruity dinobites left. Basically, in my household, all hell breaking loose.
I have a 6 year old and an 11 year old. And generally the arguing starts out in an enraged whisper eventually elevating to out and out screaming followed by an "I'm conna tell MOM!"
Enter the whimpering and sniffling 6 year old..."Mom, Chynna is being bossy. She drank all the milk and won't open a new one for me and I can't hold the new one because it weighs too much and I will spill it all over the kitchen making you have to get up and clean it because I don't know how." (All said in one complete breath)
Answers the 11 year old..."Nuh uh!"
Now I am understanding why some animals eat their young.
By this time, my husband is awake and says "I got it..." he gets up puts on his glasses and heads downstairs. I curl back up under the covers and try to regain sweet oblivious slumber.
BANG! SLAM! RATTLE! Obviously, I have done something wrong in a past life that does not allow me the luxury of sleeping in on the weekends. And apparently, my husband is making an omelet that has to be beaten into submission before he can pour the battered remains into the skillet.
Silence....I try again to curl up and enter dreamland.
BEEEEP!!BEEEEEP!!! Smoke detector. Obviously, the galloping gourmet has turned into the cajun cook and likes his eggs burnt to a crisp. "'tt'sss ok! I got it!" I hear from the kitchen.
By now, one of the cats has jumped up onto the bed and is staring me awake and starting to meow in my face.
Well, looks like another weekend is off to a roaring start....
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