November 18, 2004

A Very Long Day in the Life

It is currently 8:55 a.m. here in lovely Raleigh.

I have been awake for almost five hours, and the adrenaline surge is beginning to wear off. So let me catch you up on my life, starting at about 7:00 p.m. last night.

7:00 p.m. - Boy's bathtime. Boy is hyper. Boy is running. Boy is yelling about the daddy monster! I go forth and start the bath.

7:05 p.m. - Chase Boy. Catch Boy. Divest Boy of clothing as we run through four different rooms.

7:08 p.m. - Boy decides he needs to go potty before bathing. Can only reach potty by hopping from towel to clothing to potty, because he doesn't want to fall into the dreaded "Mud Pips." The Mud Pips in question are prominently featured, smelly geographical hazards in two episodes of The Backyardigans, The Boy's new favorite show.

7:12 p.m. - Boy finishes, flees.

7:13 p.m. - Trick Boy into bathtub by telling him that the pinchy bugs will get him unless he's in the tub. Running and laughing ensues.

7:15 p.m. - Boy in (now tepid) tub.

7:20 p.m. - Boy is clean and dry and still naked. He runs to door of bathroom, pauses, arms akimbo, and announces, "I am Nekkid Boy! Surge of the clothed!"
I correct him, "That's SCOURGE, sweetie." Boy runs off.

7:25 p.m. - Boy is in pjs watching TiVo'd Backyardigans and drinking milk.

7:30 p.m. - I go to run three miles.

8:15 p.m. - Boy is being truculent with Hublet. I decide to check email.

8:30 p.m. - More truculence.

8:35 - 9:40 p.m. - Parenting skills severely tested.

10:00 p.m. - I finally get to clean the kitchen.

10:15 p.m. - Pour glass of wine, watch Lost on TiVo.

11:40 p.m. - Bed.

4:18 a.m. - Am awakened by high-pitched buzzing in ears. Mosquito! Flail ineffectually at air in vicinity of ears.

4:20 a.m. - Hublet politely inquires about my actions. Informs me that I won't kill it that way, so stop flailing.

4:21 - 4:40 a.m. - Remain awake, listening for mosqito's return. Obsess about every horrible thing that could possibly occur in my life, ever.

4:41 a.m. - Hublet mutters, "Dammit! Now it's in MY ear!"

5:00 a.m. - Boy yells, "Mommy! Daddy! I need to come in your room!" Climbs into bed and takes 95% of space, an impressive feat for someone weighing only 29 pounds.

5:15 a.m. - Cat climbs on chest, says, "Mew." which translates into "I know you're awake, now make with the tuna so I can go out and kill something before you leave for work."

5:16 a.m - Ignore cat.

5:20 a.m. - Hublet gets up to deal with cat. I realize I have to pee, but refuse to leave the bed because I still have THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE THE ALARM GOES OFF, DAMMIT.

5:30 a.m. - Check clock, shift position to ease bladder pressure.

5:40 a.m. - Repeat.

5:50 a.m. - Turn off alarm, sigh deeply, prepare to greet the stupid day.

6:15 a.m. - Attempt to awaken Boy.

6:50 a.m. - Leave house fifteen minutes behind schedule due to grumpy sleep deprived Boy.

7:00 a.m. - Traffic jam.

7:30 a.m. - Drop off Boy at daycare. He's looking a lot more alert and chipper, at least.

7:45 a.m. - Realize, as I park in Egypt because I was fifteen minutes too late to get the good parking, that I left both my jacket and my umbrella at home. This is bad, because it's raining and chilly.

7:50 a.m. - Walk into work. Turn on space heater to dry off. Wish that Starbucks had a delivery service.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at November 18, 2004 09:20 AM

Got one thing wrong - I never got up to take care of the cat, and she was standing on me when I finally did get up at the usual time. So she must have suffered in silence for that last 30 minutes, darn the luck.

Posted by: Husband of BAW at November 18, 2004 10:51 AM

My cousin and his wife made a harsh decision after his wife gave birth to triplets. (Well, they made a LOT of harsh decisions, but only one relevant to your situation.) They put a toddler gate up in the doorway to their bedroom, decreeing that that barrier would not come down. No. Matter. What. So now, when there's an elephant in the closet or a thunderstorm, they wake up the next morning and find three toddlers snoozing on the hall rug outside their door, piled atop one another like puppies.

But they're sleeping a lot better.

Posted by: Lex at November 18, 2004 04:11 PM

I would give up a crucial bodily organ for Starbucks to start offering drive-thru service. There's been a number of times when I sorely wanted Starbucks after work, but was so bloody tired I couldn't face actually getting out of the car to get it.

Posted by: Lizzibabe at November 18, 2004 10:12 PM

Starbuckses around here have drive-throughs.

It's truly amazing, the amount of room a small child can take up in a bed. It defies the laws of physics. Especially when they turn sideways and fling their arms and legs around. I used to have a cat who arranged himself on top of me when I slept, and when I turned over he would stand up and log-roll until I got settled, so he could lie down on me again.

Posted by: Laura at November 18, 2004 11:19 PM

Dobermans are discreet on the bed, though they will always be lying against you. They're warmth-seeking. Conversely, you can turn down the thermostat ten degrees as a result. This in turn increases dog warmth-seeking.

As you get older, you need less sleep; too late for parents though.

The jet lag sensors turn off, or anyway it's as if they do.

Posted by: Ron Hardin at November 19, 2004 12:34 PM

(snickering at the image of the log-rolling cat)

I think there's some kind of natural law that one WILL be late on cold drizzly rainy days, and that every student in the known universe who is attending your university decided to get up early, drive, and take all the close-in parking places. And there's a corollary to that law that says that is the day you will be carrying all of your textbooks, plus at least 30 graded papers, plus some other kind of heavy and/or rain-damagable thing for a class demonstration later in the day.

it just works out that way. I know that when the weather is nasty and I'm running late, that means I'm parkin' and walkin'. It makes me angry at the universe but there's nothing I can do about it.

Posted by: ricki at November 20, 2004 10:50 AM

Strangely enough, you'll miss this little boy madness one day. Enjoy it- these truly are the salad days of your life. :-)

Posted by: lucy at November 20, 2004 10:59 PM