Some days you have mornings that go off without a hitch.
And then you have mornings like today.
It didn’t start off that badly. In fact, I felt like the ship was pretty tight around 6:45 a.m.
And then things slowly unraveled.
First of all, I think I’ve set the breakfast bar a little too high, because I made like 150 bacon egg and cheeses — WITHOUT THE MICROWAVE — and one of the kids was like, ” IS THIS ALL WE’RE HAVING FOR BREAKFAST???”
And I was like:
So things kind of deteriorated from there.
As I was making bacon, egg and cheese #47, my husband strolled into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee and said, “I watched a documentary about juicing last night. Do you want to start juicing?”
And I was like, “If you want to start juicing, go right ahead,” as I envisioned a once-used juicer sitting in the corner of the kitchen collecting dust and covered in spider webs.
I continue with the BE&C making, and then Number 7 starts crying in the dining room, and then Number 3 and 6 start yelling.
Number 7: “I WAS POURING MY MILK AND NUMBER 6 MOVED MY CUP AND NOW IT’S ALL OVER THE TABLE AND I’M NOT CLEANING IT UP!”
So I ask Number 6 to come into the kitchen but before he gets there, Number 3 flicks him in the face because he is annoyed by him and he catches Number 6 right in his eyeball and now Number 6 is screaming ‘MY EEEEYYYEEE. GREAT! NOW I’M BLIND! I’M BLIND MOM! MOOOOMMMMMMYYYYY! WWWWAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
So I ask Number 3 to come into the kitchen because I’m still making the fucking bacon egg and cheeses, and Number 3 is mumbling about how everyone is a bunch of idiots so I tell him to go out and wait for the bus before he blinds someone else.
About this time Number 5 remembers she didn’t finish her math homework and she needs help and I’m like, “Sorry. It’s not the time to ask for help on your homework. You’ll have to ask your teacher,” and then the hysterics start from her.
“MY TEACHER WON’T HELP MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” (she totally will) and then she hits me with the very predictable, “I HATE YOU.”
So she’s stomping around the house proclaiming her dislike for me and then my husband is back in the kitchen.
“Did you know you can juice lettuce?” he asks.
And I say nothing, but I’m like you might want to shut the hell up about the goddamn juicing.
Then Number 3 is back inside because he missed the fucking bus but he’s just in time for Number 6 to realize he has no clean shorts.
“MOM, I HAVE NO SHORTS. I NEED SHOOOOOORTS!!!!” he screams.
I tell him he’ll have to wear pants and then he’s like
“GREAT NOW I’M BLIND AND I’M GOING TO BE SWEATING MY LEGS OFF ALL DAY.
YOU ACTUALLY WANT ME TO WEAR SWEATPANTS???
DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE????
And I’m thinking to myself Oh my God, summer is coming and school is over in 42 days and then every single morning could be like this except there will be no bus coming and no relief in sight and how am I going to survive????
And then Number 6 takes a minute to pause in the hysterics to take a breath and then he says,
“OH NO MOM.
IT’S DUCT TAPE DAY AT SCHOOL TODAY.
I NEED DUCT TAPE!!!”
And I’m like
IS DUCT TAPE DAY.
You’re fucking kidding me with Duct Tape Day.
So I take to the Facebook group for my kid’s school to see if this is even and actual thing, and half the moms who reply are like “Oh shoot! I forgot it was Duct Tape Day!” and the other half are like “WHAT THE FUCK IS DUCT TAPE DAY?”
so at least I don’t feel so bad about having no clue.
BUT COME ON SCHOOLS. IT’S BAD ENOUGH WITH ALL OF THE END OF THE YEAR BULLSHIT GOING ON .
Crazy Hair Day and Sports Day are hard enough for me to manage.
You have pushed it a little too far with Duct Tape Day.
YOU HAVE PUSHED IT WAY TOO FAR.
Because apparently we were supposed to make something with duct tape and bring it in.
WHAT THE HELL?
I can’t even manage to make a fucking sandwich to put in a lunchbox at this point, so there is going to be no goddamn duct tape creation going into school.
Number 6 somehow finds a big ass roll of duct tape and throws it in his backpack and that is the degree to which we will celebrate Duct Tape Day.
It is now 7: 59 and the bus will be here in four minutes, Number 6 is still in his pajamas — but at least he’s got the important stuff — duct tape — and I tell Numbers 5, 6, and 7 that I am going out to wait for the bus because I’m about to strangle everyone and if they miss the bus, they miss the bus but I’m praying to God that they all get on the bus because I’m totally shot and I need everyone to be gone and by some miracle, they all trickle out of the house before the bus arrives.
I’m in the driveway with the three kids waiting for the bus and my husband is getting his tools and getting ready to leave for work and he comes over to Number 6 and says, “I need some of that duct tape. I need to cover a hole in the seat of my truck,” and I simultaneously think to myself This is not exactly how I envisioned my life at 48 years old and duct tape actually does hold the world together.
And then my husband pulls out of the driveway, Number 5 and 6 get onto their bus, Number 7 gets onto her bus and my life goes from absolute chaos to blissful silence.
And that concludes this episode of Not Your Average Shit Show.