smack! Wahhhhhh smack! Waaaah. (to myself, why won't this alarm shut off?) Oh, it's a child screaming, no wonder my 'snooze' isn't working.) *
Up and at 'em. It's a weekday morning in the life of a Coastie wife whose man in blue has ventured off for a bit. Wrestling youngin's out to the breakfast table is no easy feat. Heck, convincing them that wearing regular clothes to school in lieu of jammies, is even more trying. Give it a whirl sometime. Okay, maybe it is just my stubborn rugrats.
After a great deal of breakfast debates (despite my carefully planned out menu) and the rush to brush (teeth and hair), the clown car begins. All of us hustle out the door, lunch bags (check), backpacks (check), mom's purse (check), child 1, child 2, baby.....uh, where's the baby. Ah, yes, standing in the front lawn insisting to play with his lawnmower whilst you shush him (so he doesn't wake the neighborhood) and cajole him into the car.
Ah, the car. It's a beautiful hint of paradise on wheels. For, my friends, it is the minivan (cue heavenly chimes). I know, you envy me. I would too. With it's sprinkling of left over french fries embedded underneath the car seat you just cleaned and the speeding ticket you have to send in, the beauty on wheels is luxurious accommodations for any proud parent. Just enough headroom and enough room in the back that when the kids decide to chuck something at my head they can barely reach because they are not that good of a shot. *sigh* the joys of parenthood.
Calming them down from the frenzy of the out-the-door rush, we enjoy some happening kid tunes or some soothing tropical beats (thanks to Kenny Chesney), but that's more for me. :) They do their best to sing along until someone shouts Mom, she's singing too loud, I can't hear myself. Sweet, isn't it? Thankfully, the ride to school is but a mere five minutes.
Pop open the luxury van doors zoom, and scurry into the school dropping off paperwork, bags and children. Can't forget the children. 'Course they might be a hoot at the office. I'm sure they'd love to stir up some trouble there.
Back in the car--just me and Kenny. Down the highway, into morning bliss (eerrrrr....traffic). Commuters are so pleasant sometimes, aren't they? They really can brighten up your morning with the angst and crazy driving. Henry Ford must be rolling over in his grave with the sport and leisure of driving disgraced as it often is these days. In any event, I'm no angel, I'll admit, and I even have been known to pick up the phone when driving. Yikes!
Speaking of the phone while driving. Oftentimes, in port elsewhere or even at the base he's stationed at, the man in blue will often call me about this time of the morning.
Good morning beautiful, how's your morning? How were the kids?
Silly man. He gets the same story every day, yet, I humor him and tell just about the same story. You think somewhere along the way, I'd figure out how to cultivate a sense of a calm. I guess it's just not my nature.
We chat for a bit and then down the highway I continue, now full steam ahead. And, he continues on with his peaceful morning, that has been consistently childless (except of course, if he's dealing with...never mind).
Work = vacation
Alright, perhaps that is a bit drastic. Still, sometimes, it's my refuge. The place where I return to adulthood and recharge only to have demands put upon me by older individuals, well older than my children anyway. Somewhere, wherever he may be, my man in blue is still enjoying his childless day, probably without a worry in his head. See, I'm a worrier, I worry all day about him, the kids, what's for dinner, can I fit a workout in tonight, what to blog about (not really), and so much more.
The day ends. At this point, while the man in blue is away, I have to leave work early to be able to pick up the kids from preschool/after school care in time. See, normally, leaving early would be desirable, but there is nothing I hate more than rushing. After all, that is how my day starts. I hate when it ends like that. So, I zoom back up the highway. I arrive to screaming, wild and over stimulated children who are starving for dinner, which baffles me as they eat non-stop all day practically.
Dinner is pretty much a repeat of breakfast. We hope to hear from the man in blue and if we are lucky even get to video chat with him, depending on where he is. Still, sometimes this almost makes matters worse. As the night wears on and weary children grow sleepy, they start to miss daddy even more. An excuse to stay up? A serious missing of him? It's hard to tell. Once they are settled in bed, typically a hour after they were all first sent to bed, I scurry to get everything done, the bills, the cleaning, getting the clothes and lunches ready for morning. Last night I didn't sit down (literally) until 10:30 p.m. I even ate dinner standing while trying to do the laundry at the same time. I am super-stupid mom alright. Multi-tasking is such a ridiculous sport sometimes, but hey, I'm a glutton for punishment.
FINALLY.......after hours of non-stop everything, I hit the shower and then the rack. I say rack, because well the bed sometimes feels as uncomfortable as that when the man in blue is away. You know how you just can't quite get comfortable. You toss and turn and hear every little noise. Yeah, it's something like that. And, then, (barring any night terrors or other incidents during the night) we sleep and get up and do it all over again. That is if get any sleep, again. You think being as exhausted as I am I would just crash. You know how that goes though.
See, life does go on, when my Coastie's away, it's just in fast forward mode, trying to be both parents at once and saving the world one diaper, gummy snack and sheet of homework at a time.
So, honey if you are reading this, I might miss you a little bit. Oh, and rumor has it some shopping lists are out, come on home so we can chat about it and plan my 3-4 yr vacation in some tropical location. The kids can stay with family. ;)
And, if the rest of you folks are still reading this, you are nuts. :) Of course, maybe you can relate. Can you?
*Disclaimer: No, I wasn't smacking a child. It was the alarm clock my dears.