Just Can't Win

Thumbing through my thpring folder, I found this gem that I scratched out one day last spring, after the last little pickle-puss was safely out of my world, for the next seven hours anyway. It’s an actual moment-by-moment transcript of the last day of school almost one year ago. I don’t know why I never posted it. Or maybe I do.

6:45 a.m.: Roll out of bed. Unpack joints, one at a time, until I am a fully upright hominid.

6:50: Wonder why an alarm beeping angrily from one of the bedrooms is being ignored.

6:51: Move laundry containing P.E. clothes, handed to me at 9 p.m. the night before, into the dryer. Put next load into the washer, but not my clothes that have been sitting there for a week; bump kids clothes to the front of the line, again, to keep Laundry Gestapo off my back.

6:55: Head downstairs and get bombarded with the first hard-hitting question of the day by my husband, Mike “The Lunchmaker” Wallace:

“Honey, who likes Munchies and who likes BBQ Twists?”

Staring at the two bags, I realize my eyes aren’t open yet.

6:56: Head back upstairs to get reading glasses.

6:57: Feel blood pressure rise slightly as I notice that the alarm beeping angrily from one of the bedrooms is still being ignored.

7:00: Head back downstairs. Take vitamins, look longingly at the wine rack, and reach for the coffee. Give husband answer to his question, which I’ve had plenty of time to think about:

“I don’t know.”

7:05: Feed cats, pet the dog.

7:10: Begin slicing strawberries.

7:13: Stop slicing long enough for husband to take all the slices out of the bowl that I’m presently slicing them into.

7:14: Resume slicing strawberries.

7:15: Stop slicing long enough for first kid to take all the remaining slices out of the bowl.

7:16: Resume slicing.

7:17: Stop slicing as second kid interrupts my progress. Place knife and strawberries on the kitchen table and walk away.

7:17 – 7:44: Make husband’s lunch; look for various missing things (books, socks, belts); make several key admonishments, including, “Get moving,” “Get moving now,” and “I said, ‘Get moving!’”

7:45: Begin wrapping son’s broken toe with waterproof tape in preparation for his field trip to water slide park.

7:50: Stop wrapping after being told I’m doing it wrong.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The other stuff.”

“That?” I say, pointing to the non-waterproof tape we’d been using on non water park days.

“Yeah. That goes underneath and then the waterproof tape on top.”

“What’s the point of using non-waterproof anything? Remember last night at WalMart, when I bought waterproof tape and bandages? It was for this moment.”

“Well…I just think…I don’t know. Whatever.”

“Well, I do know, and I just think that waterproof is the best thing to wear when one plans to go in, well, the water, frankly.”

“Fine.”

7:58: “Okay, load up, we’re leaving,”

7:59: “Okay, let’s go.”

8:01: “Okay, we’re outta here.”

8:02: Begin looking for car keys.

8:03: Fail to restrain myself from dropping a truth bomb on daughter who is getting over nasty chest cold.

“Do you have water?”

“No, why?”

“Well, no reason, really; I just thought that a person getting over a nasty chest cold on hot day might find it helpful to have some water with her.”

“I’ll use the drinking fountain.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Of course I’ve got my suit on, we’re going swimming!”