Wednesday Night.
Another new thing in my life this year is my decision that seven hours of working with nary a cigarette/coffee/stop-and-chat in the hall/lunch break constitutes an eight hour day. Thus, I've been heading to work at 8 and leaving at 3. Most days--I am not a robot, dear reader.
At 3, I pick up Stevie, then Mark, run any errands (maybe a trip to the bank or grocery store) and head home. Once home, I can get Stevie started on his hours (lately) on homework, change Mark's poopy pants (he's good with the pee but not the poop) and start on dinner. Please try to separate the poopy pants from the dinner.
It's been great! I am a morning person and tend to fade, work-wise, in the afternoon. I'd actually do pretty well on the old siesta system if I didn't have to go back to work in the evening. I'd rather pile it on and get it over with. But I like going home at 3, and I like to cook, and it makes for a relatively stress-free evening.
Not this evening, though. This night, I wish all three boys were on vacation. Stevie has had these ridiculously long homework bouts lately, often punctuated by tearful outbursts. No outbursts tonight; just FOUR HOURS of homework punctuated by frequent daydreams. And a trip back to school to get the homework that he forgot. Again. He never would have made the trip--with Mark and me in tow on a cold day--if I not reminded him that when he fails to bring home his homework, he is denied the Wii. I'm convinced that the Wii video game console is the world's #1 behavior manipulating tool, and an OK, cheap stand-in for bowling (Lulu is a pro, and the first lady is getting close!)
Mark is adorable, of course. He is quickly recovering from a weekend invasion of 'ear bugs'. He is bright and cheerful and wanting to play and asking me for something every two fricking seconds. I am reminded of the few episodes of Super Nanny that I've seen, realizing that my attempts to ignore the child that I chose to have and that I have full responsibility for and who wants nothing more than my attention probably wouldn't look good during the DVD playback segment of the show. Frick it. Mommy wants to sit and have a glass of wine and you can get your own water. And make your own Play Doh horses. And leave your brother alone! Shite!
Kevin messed up the wireless router connection. This is something that I for sure would have done myself, but it only makes me marginally less irritated by it. I have that stupid mind thing that tells me that things must be clean and orderly before I can sit and concentrate on something. I am trying to get our home office--a desk with paper and pens--set up and, without knowing where the router is going to be, I can't complete that task. So I waste time. And it's all Kevin's fault. And his socks are really smelly. I mean they smell like urine-soaked cat litter and it lingers long after he has removed his feet from the wicked things. I did a half-load of laundry this morning because it was the only way to get the smell out of the house, and I swear that I can still smell it after laundering. (Guess who's walking around the house in his smelly socks right now?) I don't know. Kevin is awesome and good-looking and all that, and he's every bit as useful with a computer as I am. But he is smelly. Of that, there is no doubt.
So I really just want to be rid of them all for the evening. I want a functioning internet and peace so I can do a little bit of work, and then I want to read. I'm heading to an agritourism conference tomorrow at the Lake of the Ozarks. The lake is kinda like Dollywood, only with a big lake and more slack zoning regulations. It is not a place I would ever go, as I try to avoid overpriced boats filled with bathing-suit-clad drunks whose best days were officially over as of December 31, 1989 and who relive those glory days at the lake. On their boats. But I'm going alone and I will room alone and, for that, I am thankful.
I googled myself tonight. I do that occasionally to make sure that no one can link my name to this blog. One day, that connection is going to make a pretty good story in Hometown. I've been bumped to page 2. The social networking of various Lulus has filled google page 1. Yes, I am linked in, but you still can't find me on facebook or myspace and I'm probably not the old classmate you're thinking of because I'm a good girl and changed my name a few years after getting married.
I'm off to bed. My bed. I'm reading a Truman biography. Someone send me some reading suggestions!
Love,
Lulu
At 3, I pick up Stevie, then Mark, run any errands (maybe a trip to the bank or grocery store) and head home. Once home, I can get Stevie started on his hours (lately) on homework, change Mark's poopy pants (he's good with the pee but not the poop) and start on dinner. Please try to separate the poopy pants from the dinner.
It's been great! I am a morning person and tend to fade, work-wise, in the afternoon. I'd actually do pretty well on the old siesta system if I didn't have to go back to work in the evening. I'd rather pile it on and get it over with. But I like going home at 3, and I like to cook, and it makes for a relatively stress-free evening.
Not this evening, though. This night, I wish all three boys were on vacation. Stevie has had these ridiculously long homework bouts lately, often punctuated by tearful outbursts. No outbursts tonight; just FOUR HOURS of homework punctuated by frequent daydreams. And a trip back to school to get the homework that he forgot. Again. He never would have made the trip--with Mark and me in tow on a cold day--if I not reminded him that when he fails to bring home his homework, he is denied the Wii. I'm convinced that the Wii video game console is the world's #1 behavior manipulating tool, and an OK, cheap stand-in for bowling (Lulu is a pro, and the first lady is getting close!)
Mark is adorable, of course. He is quickly recovering from a weekend invasion of 'ear bugs'. He is bright and cheerful and wanting to play and asking me for something every two fricking seconds. I am reminded of the few episodes of Super Nanny that I've seen, realizing that my attempts to ignore the child that I chose to have and that I have full responsibility for and who wants nothing more than my attention probably wouldn't look good during the DVD playback segment of the show. Frick it. Mommy wants to sit and have a glass of wine and you can get your own water. And make your own Play Doh horses. And leave your brother alone! Shite!
Kevin messed up the wireless router connection. This is something that I for sure would have done myself, but it only makes me marginally less irritated by it. I have that stupid mind thing that tells me that things must be clean and orderly before I can sit and concentrate on something. I am trying to get our home office--a desk with paper and pens--set up and, without knowing where the router is going to be, I can't complete that task. So I waste time. And it's all Kevin's fault. And his socks are really smelly. I mean they smell like urine-soaked cat litter and it lingers long after he has removed his feet from the wicked things. I did a half-load of laundry this morning because it was the only way to get the smell out of the house, and I swear that I can still smell it after laundering. (Guess who's walking around the house in his smelly socks right now?) I don't know. Kevin is awesome and good-looking and all that, and he's every bit as useful with a computer as I am. But he is smelly. Of that, there is no doubt.
So I really just want to be rid of them all for the evening. I want a functioning internet and peace so I can do a little bit of work, and then I want to read. I'm heading to an agritourism conference tomorrow at the Lake of the Ozarks. The lake is kinda like Dollywood, only with a big lake and more slack zoning regulations. It is not a place I would ever go, as I try to avoid overpriced boats filled with bathing-suit-clad drunks whose best days were officially over as of December 31, 1989 and who relive those glory days at the lake. On their boats. But I'm going alone and I will room alone and, for that, I am thankful.
I googled myself tonight. I do that occasionally to make sure that no one can link my name to this blog. One day, that connection is going to make a pretty good story in Hometown. I've been bumped to page 2. The social networking of various Lulus has filled google page 1. Yes, I am linked in, but you still can't find me on facebook or myspace and I'm probably not the old classmate you're thinking of because I'm a good girl and changed my name a few years after getting married.
I'm off to bed. My bed. I'm reading a Truman biography. Someone send me some reading suggestions!
Love,
Lulu
posted by lulu | 6:08 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home