I have been quite sick,
But seem to be on the mend.
It’s not funny yet.
(Be back soon)
Twenty- five years ago, Elton John appeared on The Muppet Show. Recently, that very episode landed in my DVD player.
Someone bought my children a copy of The Muppet Show, season 2, which my daughter watches with relish. In fact, there were several occasions when I had to physically peel her little eyeballs off the TV screen. That was difficult, as you would imagine. Not the eyeballs part, but we have a really nice TV.
It came to pass that K only wanted to watch the Elton John episode, forgoing all others.
Even Dora was kicked to the curb. (A slight that relieved me all the way to my blackened, Dora tortured soul)
Taking the cue from my daughter, I made her a cd to play in the car. The first track on the disc is:
“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”
Aaaaaaand I’ve never heard the rest of the CD.
She wants THAT SONG over and over. If Dante were still alive, he would rewrite the Inferno just to include my particular level of hell.
And don’t try to turn it off either Mommy, because you’ll be listening to K wail all the way to your destination instead, and I can confirm that when K gets her wail on, she can not only break glass, but she can melt steel. I don’t recommend it.
I dream in duck suits. I wake up and go to sleep with “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” in my head. I subconsciously gravitate to bedazzled clothing, and that’s not good for anyone.
Eventually she’ll grow out of it, but will it be before or after Mommy’s psychotic break?
The race is on.
It was a really big day… For me.
I was tired, too.
K had been up twice the night before.
She knows how to go back to sleep on her own but hey, so long as you’re up, Mommy, make me a snack.
My phone began to bark, signaling the beginning of my day at the ass crack of dawn.
J gets on the bus at 8:21 and K goes to preschool after that, but she goes 2 days a week. Today is not one of those days.
If you have children, you recognize the hours of preparation and servitude that happen on your part before the delivery of children at their given destinations.
I woke my children.
As usual, J stayed up far too late reading his books and is not at all inclined to get out of bed. Once I’ve dragged him out of bed, (legs work better than arms, btw, but make sure to stick a pillow on the floor so you don’t have anything to explain to child services) dressed the dead weight that is my son, dragged him out of the room to the kitchen (watch that bump between the rooms) and dumped him in his chair at the kitchen table, I ask:
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR BREAKFAST?”
You have to yell in order for his ears to function at such an obnoxious hour.
I leave him to ponder that question while I get his sister.
K is not so easy. Since she was up twice last night, she’s cranky.
Me: Morning K, come on out.
Me: It’s time to get up now. (I pick her up)
K: NO (translate: Get. Off. Me.)
I put her on the changing table and start dressing her.
K screams, alternating between the windmill (both arms AND legs) and the twisting dead fish, which K has perfected. It’s a science to her, she’s been working on her technique for all of her two years.
Once I have her dressed and ready, we go out to the kitchen where J slid from his chair to the floor and is sleeping peacefully with the dog under the table.
So I ask K:
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR BREAKFAST?”
“HOW ABOUT SOME EGGS?”
His interest is piqued.
“Cheesy eggs?” I hear from under the table.
“ONLY IF YOU CAN SIT IN YOUR CHAIR UNAIDED.”
I cook breakfast and happily return to my inside voice.
Everyone is happy. Cheesy eggs all around, toast and jam. I finish cooking, pack a lunch, look back at the table, and J has eaten… Nothing.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
Every family has a kid that won’t eat.
We go back and forth a million and twelve times, J sit down, J eat your breakfast, J we have to leave… J Hey look! (I shove food in his mouth)
Then we get down to brass tacks.
How many bites.
I start off with the uncompromising
“All of them”
He has all the power, and he knows it. I’m on a timetable. If his tiny little ass isn’t on that bus in twenty minutes, I’m the neighborhood slacker. Not that it’s looking great for me in that department anyhow.
“Six bites” I say nervously.
“Five” is his far-too-quick reply.
“Five and a cliff bar on the bus” I was going for broke.
“K. Four and some goldfish”
He’s a tough negotiator.
The bus, just before I took off after it.
Finally I got him on the bus, and I hardly even cried. Much. Or ran onto the bus for one more hug and kiss. Much. They did have to drag me off the bus, a little… but I hardly even followed that bus all the way to J’s elementary school.
I was totally cool about the whole thing.
As I have mentioned before on this blog, we live on a lake, which is situated upon a mountain.
You’re right, it’s beautiful.
Cause I know that’s what you’re thinking.
However, along with its beauty and conduciveness (did I just make up a new word?) to raising kids, it lives in its own little pocket of cellular service. I like to call it fuck me forward and back cellular. You can imagine how well fuck me forward and back cellular works when one is trying to write her latest blog post.
Not well at all.
It wasn’t always like this. For years our little pocket had shitty cellular service, upon which I look back fondly.
But not now. Fuck me forward and back cellular has me on the back of the couch, bent over in a crouch, using one of my arms as an antennae, with my phone at a 90 degree angle pressed up against my big living room window for great lengths of time, just to post a haiku.
I could write my haiku out longhand, copy it out for each one of you, put each copy in an envelope, sleuth out each of your addresses, go to the post office, buy stamps, send it snail mail and have it reach you all before my haiku posts on WordPress.
We do have a computer. Theoretically I could write in the bedroom…
Will I? No. I’m sitting in my comfy chair, and it’s my God Damn Naptime.
So, after many months of back and forth with fuck me front and back cellular, each time swallowing a little more horse shit, they gave us a little box that was supposed to make our house a “hot spot” of cellular activity. That was several months ago, and the only spots we have seen since have been on clothing and the cat.
But….. No more!!! My tech savvy husband broke down and got us WiFi!! Now I can get on all of your blogs much more often. I can comment on them too, maybe even keep up with some of you! I’m as happy as that guy on that insurance commercial with the banjo. So beware people, I’m comin’ fer ya.
Hooray for Tric!!! She is my 100th follower!! We, at the Naptime Thoughts household, (I, the husband, J and K) welcome you to the fold with open arms; or whatever that becomes in the blogosphere.
And now for a little about Tric. If you don’t happen to know her, Tric is a superhero. She is faster than a speeding bullet, she can leap tall buildings in a single bound, and she writes fantastic poetry at:
I welcome you Tric, into the deep dark recesses of my mind that are Naptime Thoughts. Naptime Thoughts might sound sweet, like parenting advice, or a recipe swap, but I’m here to tell you that in fact you have won an all access pass to everything I can’t say in public. Enjoy. Now here are some others who welcome you to Naptime Thoughts:
St. Louis welcomes you:
Some variety of rare deer also welcomes you warmly.
And so, in closing, keep an eye on that inbox, Tric, because Ima stick my thoughts in it.
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