wednesday – a dramedy
why am i awake? i reach for my phone on the nightstand to check the time – 4 am?! ugh. and then i hear zoey through the monitor, tossing and turning, a slight whimper. ah yes, a mother’s instinct… no matter how deep i’m sleeping, if my children so much as move a toe in their slumber, i’ll feel it and awaken. i lay there for a minute… willing her to quiet down, to find her comfort and fall back asleep. but then i start to worry – is she cold? did she roll out of bed and onto the floor? i take a deep breath and throw the warm blanket off of me, resigned in my motherly duties. i zombie walk down the hall, still rubbing sleep out of my eyes, trying to gather my bearings. i quietly enter her room and immediately notice that my poor little darling is tucked into a ball, crammed into the farthest corner of her bed. she points to a spot on her blanket – she’s pee’d and the middle of the bed is soaking wet. i cock my head to the side and give her a little pout – poor baby. i change her diaper, put her in warm clothing and carry her (and 5 stuffed animal “friends”) to my bedroom. we get situated, chat for a few minutes while i softly stroke her hair and she falls asleep. i let out a sigh of relief for this small victory and reach for my phone – 4:30. i wince in frustration, disappointed that my alarm will inevitably sound in 45 minutes. in seconds, i am out.
one eye pops open, then the other. why am i awake?! that sleep was so good. so deep. with my face smashed into the bed, slack-jawed, i side eye the window and realize that there’s too much sun peeking through the curtains. it quickly dawns on me (no pun intended) that i overslept! shit shit shit! i reach for my phone – 6:13. what happened to my alarm?? i throw the blanket off, totally disoriented and not sure what to accomplish first. at least it’s not a hair washing day! but do i shower? or just throw on some deodorant, slather on some good smelling lotion and call that a shower? yes. and then the morning gets crazy. it’s just me, running around like an absolute freak. i figure out what i’m going to wear, but have to search through piles of clean, folded laundry because i am the worst about putting clothes away. i turn on the iron because of course everything is wrinkled. i brush my teeth while peeing, throw on a bra and some panties, curl my hair and slap on some makeup. just as i’m about to iron my clothes and get dressed, zoey is fully awake and she’s “huuuuuuungweeeee” and wants to watch a show. so i find a cartoon for her to watch and run downstairs in my bra and undies (ain’t nobody wanna see that!) crap! i realize that i still need to make her lunch! i run back up stairs with a banana, get her situated, iron my clothes and get dressed.
here’s where things go from crazy, but manageable to downright ridiculous. because 1. this is just how things seem to go when you’re running late and 2. my almost 3-year-old has been pushing my buttons all week and i’m literally losing my marbles.
zoey decides that she wants to wear what she already has on – a tank top and sweater pants that she slept in. we argue about putting her hair in a ponytail. she says no. i tell her it’s a rat’s nest. she yells at me that it’s not. i say – whatever, dude. but we’re at least putting a fresh diaper on your little butt. fine! fine. i leave her to play in her room while i head downstairs to make her lunch. a few minutes later i yell up the stairs – zoey, it’s time to go. come downstairs. “just a second, mom! i’m pwaying!” ex-squeeze me, baking powder? pick your battles pick your battles. so i pack up the car instead – my bag, my purse, her lunchbag, etc… buying her some “pway” time.
and then i realize – shit. it’s fucking trash day. mother effer. will this ever end?? so now i’m running around the house collecting trash. mind you, i’ve been up and down our stairs so many times, i’m about to put an ad on craig’s list for an errand boy. seeking: someone to go up and down my stairs when i forget shit or my child refuses to come down. (i know, right? don’t threaten you with a good time.) like, i’m done going up the stairs. i’ve had it. but i have to get my child because she’s not coming down. i stomp up the stairs, preparing to drag her down, kicking and screaming. i get up there and my nose hairs instantly fry under the stench of a poopy diaper. are you kidding me?! so now i gotta change a shitty diaper. for the love of god, child. can’t you poop at school?? we’re paying them ridiculous amounts of money to take care of you… poop on their time! i get her cleaned up and then drag her down kicking and screaming. i set her down at the bottom of the stairs and i’m irritated. so irritated, my nostrils are flaring.
but it’s a blur because i’m moving so fast, i don’t really have time to think about it. i’m just moving and reacting.
we head out to the car and then i realize that i left my keys upstairs in zoey’s room.
yeah. i’ll let that soak in for a minute.
so pissed, i can’t even formulate appropriate cuss word combinations. i think i said, under my breath, something like – motherfuckingbitchfuck
i turn around to go back in the house and as i step through the doorway, i slip on dirt or an imaginary object. i catch myself, but now i’m mega pissed/embarrassed/can’t believe this morning/need a drink. i fly up the stairs, taking them two at a time, grab the keys and a pile of library books that are past due. as i’m coming down the stairs, i fall. yep. i slip and fall on my ass, banging my elbow on the railing. now i’m seeing red. and when i see red, i throw things. that’s how i deal. hello, my name is paige and i throw things when i get ragey. i pick up a book and pitch it at the wall. man, that felt good! but now there’s a v-shaped dent in the wall from the book binding.
and then time stands still. i sit there on the bottom step for a second and realized that i’m being a whackadoodle… that the universe is telling me to slow down. i’m late. there’s nothing i can do about it. i stand up, smooth down the front of my pants, fix my hair in the mirror, take a deep breath, put on a smile and head out to the car. the day has been fine since. i’m actually laughing as i write this. remembering my frustration, as well… but mostly laughing at myself. i think that’s an important characteristic to have – the ability to laugh at yourself.
next time you’re having a day, picture me falling down the stairs on my ass. also, that i take fake showers. and that i throw things when i get mad. basically, i’m not perfect. shocker, i know.
ps. writing this story was partly for your amusement, but mostly for myself. i want to write more, but my hesitation usually comes from not knowing what to write about. i’m learning that the simplest things in my life can turn into a fantastic storyline and ultimately, an exercise in writing – one that encourages me to dive deeper into my imagination, search for better descriptive words, to really put the reader next to me in my experience, etc…