October 22, 2007 by Marj Hatzell
The alarm goes off to the sounds of sports talk (I figure I have to be pretty annoyed to get out of bed and turn the radio off. Sports Talk does this for me.) and the husband hits snooze about ten times. Not really, but I was deep in a dream about a friend who lived in a row house on the side of a mountain with a fabulous three-story deck to watch the fall colors but she had no front steps so we had to scramble in the front door. And the row house wasn’t attached to any others. Don’t ask me how I know it was a row house. And I didn’t have Skelaxin last night, that dream was purely from my own twisted imagination.
I finally dragged the husband out of bed by warning him that I wasn’t going to iron. The dog was still sound asleep at the bottom of the stairs. Even SHE is usually begging to go out by then. I flipped on the weather channel (the twenty-four hour one) and with my back to the television I proceeded to iron…a pair of jeans. Whilst listening to the weather channel
porno music synthesized instrumental music I realized the irony (iron-y, get it?) of pressing a pair of jeans. JEANS. You know, like denim? Like WHO CARES IF THEY ARE WRINKLED, THEY’RE JEANS. And that music! Did anyone ever really listen to it? IT’S HORRIBLE! I sware (swear, even) that I heard the one song before…it sounded like Kenny G, only without that gosh-awful out-of-tune soprano sax (It was not a clarinet, and yes, it was out of tune. Every single song).
Oops. Off on a tangent again. Imagine that! Me, on a tangent!
I stumbled down to the kitchen to have my cup of English Breakfast and managed to check school bags, write a note to the teacher and get breakfast and meds ready. They still weren’t awake. I tiptoed upstairs and peeked into each room. Sawing logs. Hmmm…if my kids are sleeping, there can only be one explanation. And Bug Boy was sick last week already. I tried waking them. Nope. I kissed each one on their little rosy cheeks. Nope. I peeled the covers back layer by layer. AHA! A leg movement! I finally whispered to Bug Boy that if he wanted to kiss Daddy goodbye he had to get up right then and there. He stretched and stated, “Mom! I got too much sleep! You let me sleep too long!” As if.
I literally had to carry Bugaboo downstairs. He wasn’t having any of it. I managed to get him dressed before he was fully awake, which never happens. His diaper was dry! OH! Let’s get him on the potty! Except when I told him that we were going to the bathroom, I was met with “UUUUUH UHHHHHHH!!!!!!” Which was Bugaboo-speak for, “MOTHER! I just woke up and it is freezing in here. It is bad enough that you dragged me from a peaceful slumber and ripped off my warm footy pajamas! If you think I’m gonna pull down my pants and sit on that ice-cold toilet, you’ve got something coming to you!”
When he does learn to speak I am pretty sure I will then wish he is suddenly struck mute, because his facial expression said it all. ‘Cause then I’ll have TWO Rainman-like kids (yeah, I missed my favorite show. Yeah, It’ll be on later. Yeah, I can watch it on demand) and I might just finally go completely batty.
The weekend? Busy. Soccer, as usual. Then we went to the local town’s sidewalk sale and craft fair. FUN! Free food (for a donation), moon bounce, Farmer’s Market, wall-to-wall people. You know, the kind of thing that makes my kids insane? Yup, I took them. They lasted about forty-five minutes before Bugaboo screamed bloody-murder and Bug Boy chanted, “I wanna go home. There are too many people here. It’s too loud. I wanna go home now. I wanna go home NOW. MOM! I! WANT! TO! GO! HOME! NOW!” and Bugaboo cried, “UH UH! UHHHHH UUUUUHHHH!!!!” So I finally got the clue and got the heck out of there. The second we reached the car they stopped and were all, “Us? Cranky? PSHAW! Not a chance! You must be mistaking us for other autistic kids who hate crowds! Hey look! A balloon!”
Next week we have soccer, which is scheduled at precisely the same time as our Mayberry’s halloween parade. The high school band plays and leads about forty kids ALL FOUR BLOCKS around town, ending at borough hall, where they have cider, pretzels, cookies, etc. It is fun but tons of people. So…should I neglect to tell Bug Boy that we have a parade and drive out of town the opposite direction and just take him to soccer? Or should I let him march in the parade and forget about soccer?
Or should I let them sleep until 11, when we don’t have to do anything?