The little cherubs decided to start waking up between four-thirty and five a.m. as of this week.
I will take a deep breath and the gas from outside fills my head. Lovely. They have been working on a gas leak on my street for three days now. I am afraid to light a match or my gas stove now.
Looking out the window to get a soothing view of the beach and instead I see a line of construction vehicles and Gas company trucks.
Chris is trying to figure out his new Skype program and keep ringing me on the phone from the room next to me. I can look at him as I talk to him on the phone. This is not my idea of flirting.
Yesterday my daughter Melissa brought home a reading log from her summer school program. She must read fifteen minutes every day. I asked her if she would like to read aloud to me and she told me no, wanted to read to herself. I watched her intently reading a book and when she set it down, I looked at it. It was a picture book. No words but the name of the author and a title.
Some television channels are enjoying the 80″s retro thing and were showing some things from my youth. When I would try to watch “Breakfast Club”, “Pretty in Pink” or “Sixteen Candles”, Mark would look at me with a pitying gaze and say to me, “Mom, the 80’s are over now, you will just have to deal with it.”
I moved the chair and couch in the living room out from the walls a bit and discovered where all my teabags have gone. The ferret had ripped up teabags and the entire floor was covered in black leaves. I counted eighteen tea tags.
At five-thirty I went into the kitchen and saw that every single dish, bowl, utensil and cup I own are in the sink. Melissa yells to me, “Oh yeah, Mark and I were playing a cooking game in the yard.
Six o’clock I made three different dinners and at six-thirty both kids asked me when I was making dinner.
I went to see if the kids’ bedroom was set up for bedtime. Standing very still, head cocked, I stared at two bare mattresses in the middle of the floor, all pillows, blankets and toys in a humongous pile towering over the bookcase. It was not the horrid room makeover that I was staring at. It was the lounging black cat laying on the mattress. We do not own a cat.
After explaining to our children that they cannot just find a cute animal and bring it home, (not to mention the quick “discussion” between the cat in Chris’ arms and the ferret in mine was NOT friendly) there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth as I tried to convince the children to clean up their room for bedtime. They made an offer to sleep in it just as it was. We declined their offer but thanked them for their input. Chris reminded the children that in the home it is not a democracy, it was a tyranny.
When they finally went to bed I stretched, sighed, smiled at Chris. I whispered, “Its time, are you ready?” He looked at me with an evil grin on his face and nodded. “Oh yeah, so beyond ready.” One last intense look from across the room at each other, savoring the moment…then we both leapt towards the remote control on the couch. I landed on the remote and the very confused ferret. Chris tried to get the remote from my hands but the ferret and I both bit him. I reclined on the couch and watched my favorite show while Chris got my tea and snack. Then he went headfirst into his computer world.
Now that is my idea of a good ending!