I got up earlier this morning, since that has been recommended to me as a way to make it to work earlier. You might imagine this advise was not well received considering the actual happenings that make me late. Just the same, I gave it a shot. First, I woke up at 3am. I felt this was a bit early to start getting ready even though the thought did cross my mind to jump in the shower. Instead, I struggled to get comfortable in a king size bed completely overtaken by a skinny 4 year old. My husband was curled up like a cat at the foot of the bed. I was on my side teetering on the edge and the boy was in the middle sprawled out like Bambi on the ice pond. This is why I don't let them sleep in our bed. I woke my husband to carry him to his bed. I picked up my phone to check the time just as my husband walked in and accused me of being on Facebook at 3am. I didn't even respond.
After deciding 3am was just entirely too early, I fought to fall back asleep. I finally did at almost 4. The alarm went off at 5:30 and my husband hit snooze for an hour. I got up at 6:30 and started getting ready. The plan seemed to work. I was showered, dressed, made up, hair done and teeth brushed before the kids woke up. Then I went downstairs and found the mess I forgot about last night while trying to get the kids to settle. You see, yesterday they were both sleeping when I got home from work at nearly 6:30pm. I let them sleep long enough for me to eat dinner in peace and step outside for a glass of wine on the porch. Then by 7:15 (15 minutes before bedtime and 2 sips into my wine) they were both up and full of energy. My daughter didn't fall back asleep until after 10pm and my son, who knows what time he fell asleep. I passed out before him while he was watching Hawaii 5-0 in my bed.
Downstairs, the dishes were still on the table, the garbage was full and so was the sink and dishwasher. I had to unload and reload the dishwasher, clear and wipe down the table, put the dishes away and do my best to tidy up some of the toys that were laying around so the painter wouldn't break his neck when he comes and attempts to patch up what the kids have destroyed. By the time I straightened up a little and got the kids up and dressed, it was 8:30. There goes my head start.
I bring them out to the car with all the typical nonsense that goes with it. This morning the issue was that my van door wouldn't open on one side. Naturally, I wouldn't discover this fact until after I already hooked my daughter into her car seat on the other side. With her buckled in, I can't get past that side. I could have taken her out to get my son in with ease but I thought that would take too long and it would be "easier" to just have my son crawl on the floor under her feet to get to his seat. That worked. What didn't work was asking him to hand me the seat belt so I could buckle him in. I asked him what seemed like 85 times before he even acknowledged me speaking to him. With my kids, if they are out of my reach they feel they are out of my jurisdiction or something. They completely ignore me if they know they can get away.
As I'm now laying across my daughter's lap yelling at my son to pull the seat belt and hand it to me, my cell phone is ringing and ringing and ringing. If I don't answer and the person calls back, I automatically assume this means something is horribly wrong so I'm now more stressed out. I finally get him buckled, I get in the car and a drive away miserable as always.
Some jerk picks today to ride my bumper for nearly two miles. It was really getting to me. As it was I was 5 miles over the speed limit so it's not like I was an old grandma holding up a line of traffic. Besides, I had my kids in the car and we were near a school. You never know when one of those suckers is is going to dart out in front of you near a school so it's really not smart to be speeding. Finally I get to a red light and the jerk pulls next to me into the left turn lane. Thank God he's going to be off my a** at least. Instead, the light turns green and he guns it and cuts me off right in front of the school. Just like every other time something like this happens, my first though is "where the hell is there a cop when sh!t like THIS happens!?" but before I completed that thought, a cop came flying past me and pulled the guy over.
And that is what you call sweet justice. It totally erased all my frustration from the morning. I had to use every bit of strength not to roll down the window to point and say "ha ha!" (a la Nelson from the Simpsons) so instead I just smiled politely and kept on with my life. :)
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