It’s late-October. Our front door has not been operable in three weeks. After special ordering a $400 lock set (hardware not included) and gathering up all the other materials (more money), it took and extra week to coordinate the guy to fix it. The job, according to Jamal, was to be completed in one day. Which even I knew enough to declare would be a two day job. So we are on day six, eight if you count the weekend. I’m tired of the noise, the disruption, the dust, the smell, etc.
I don’t handle sheer chaos well. Just when I thought I couldn’t handle one more thing, the kids have discovered how to work the CD player attached to the alarm clock. At the moment, we are cycling through last year’s kindergarten’s choices of favorite Christmas tunes. I have some overzealous room mom to thank for endless playing of “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas” (Madie’s pick) and “Feliz Navidad” (feel sorry for the mother whose kid picked that one). Between happy choruses, things are punctuated with hammering and the alarm chiming insistently as the guy tries to get it all lined up. Not to mention I keep yelling over it all- shooing the kids away from the construction worker as their endless list of questions and “show and tell” is dragging out the whole process. “What’s that?” “Why are you doing that?” “Want to see my new tinker toy scraper with wheels?”
I’d also like to thank the school for this special day off where I’ve been forced to arrange play dates for the kids (at our house since the door still needs to stay open to dry and to air out the house). At 10:30am our household child population will double from two to four. At 10:30am my sanity will be drained at an even faster rate. I had planned that today- after a week of forced vacation from the gym (thanks to Jamal and his inability to work when he said he would); that I’d have this morning to exercise and then be able to cope with the play friends. That is not the case. As it stands, the door guy is still hammering away and its 9:37am. Unless I have a time machine, it isn’t happening. The kids aren’t here yet and I’m already counting down the time until 1pm when the kids get picked up.
Apparently, my inability to deal with chaos has spread to my children. Or at least to Wilson. With the added excitement of the overly chatty lawn guy’s arrival, the noise level is going up as quickly as this day is going down hill. Wilson is falling apart crying for no apparent reason and needs me to sit and hold him about every four seconds. Madie, unfazed as per usual, is literally jumping over and around him. I feel like Steve Martin in that scene from “Parenthood” where his kids are destroying the Christmas pageant and everyone is laughing around him. I feel dizzy and sick with all the chaos….maybe it’s just all the paint fumes.
Ahh, and the latest musical Christmas pick; “Peace on Earth”. Sure. Wait…oh, that’s more like my children; they declared “Peace on Earth” was too “boring” and now it’s blaring “Yankee Doodle”. Is it 5 yet?