I am inches away from losing my sense of humor and being willingly carted off in a padded wagon. My “day” started at 4am when I got up with Madie. As she hacked the evening away all I could think was she sounded like a seal with a smoking habit. Multiple puffs on the inhaler later, we finally managed to get her to actually breathe in the medicine and she was better. Mark’s conveniently on a business trip to Arizona. I barely got everyone to school as I finally fell asleep moments before the alarm clock went off. Madie was the last child in the door at 7:59am (I’m sure she is regularly the last kid in her seat).
Reason #568 we only have two children: middle of the night anythings. Mark and I don’t handle disturbed sleep well. Some people can go with very little sleep. I can handle a few hours, a few times. But generally speaking, I need a full nights sleep without interruption.
It’s been years since we’ve regularly had to get up and give someone a bottle, pat their backs until they fall back asleep, etc. But it’s still rare that someone doesn’t call out during a dream, falls out of bed, awakens and can’t find their water, etc. So as I ricocheted down the hall stumbling towards Madie’s room I just knew we were off to a bad start.
I then got a call from Jamal, the man that is theoretically fixing our front door. He has cancelled today, mid-project, stating that he doesn’t want to do a “rush job” on our door and he’s worried about the rain slowing things down. It’s currently 67 degrees and beautiful with a 20% chance of rain. I got that message and then got a call from our real estate agent. I think she may have heard about the latest rat in the attic. That was our weekend “surprise”.
I thought Wilson’s room smelled a bit “off” and assumed it was the laundry basket I’d been ignoring. When Mark went into the attic to retrieve the Halloween decorations he discovered the familiar funk smell was yet another rodent visitor. Probably out looking for his buddies. At any rate, the realtor wanted to highlight all the reasons to hurry up and buy a new place. Like I need convincing. I told her, in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t up to me and not to expect to plant a sign in our yard anytime soon. I am more convinced than ever that I will live in this rat infested, crumbling abode until it burns down or I’m carried out.
Gratefully, the school called in the middle of that conversation so I had to get off the phone. I assumed it was the nurse calling about Madie. Turns out it was the pre-school teacher calling about Wilson. He was apparently attacked and bitten by a classmate. As always, the children are offering up a variety of reasons, explanations, and locations for the said biting event. Getting the story out of misbehaving four year olds is like playing the game “Clue”. “It happened on the playground- no in carpool- with the teeth- by Noah- or wait- by Ryan- no by Noah per Ryan’s instructions!” All this relayed by an extremely upset pre-school teacher that kept stating over and over again that biting is taboo in her classroom. She also wanted to know if I wanted to come and collect Wilson. “Did the skin break?” “No.” “Is he crying still?” “No.” “Then no, I’m not coming to get him.” Ever the sympathetic mommy.
It’s not even 10am and I’m crossed between going to the gym and just climbing back into bed.