Ring-a-ling-a-ling..... Ring-a-ling-a-ling....
The damn dog wants to go outside and pee. Mother Hen attached a bell to the door to train the dog to slap it if she wanted to go outside. The alarm clock reads 5:42 am.
Are you serious? If I get up, I'm not going to fall back to sleep. If I stay in bed, the dog will probably piss on the floor. Faced with a dilemma, I command the dog to "Come". She happily trots up the stairs to greet her awoken master. Once in my bedroom, she is instructed to lay in her bed. If she makes a mess, it will be in her bed, not on my floor, I erroneously think to myself.
As I lay in bed, I am now fully awake. No sense in trying to sleep any further, I get up and let the dog outside so she can do her happy pirouette as she drops a number two on the front lawn.
I'm up so early that I have time to eat breakfast, feed the animals, shower, edit a video and finish a load of laundry that I started the night before. Mother Hen said she did all the laundry on Sunday. Yet Tuesday night, our boy announced that he was down to his last pair of pyjamas. In the clothes hamper, he had four pairs of pants, three sets of PJ's and somehow five pair of socks. Our daughter only had one set of dirty clothes, with no PJ's or dirty socks. Two different kids at opposite extremes. Not understanding the logic behind the quantity of dirty clothes, I shut my mouth and throw them into the washing machine.
At 6:45 am, the sound of an annoying beep is emitted from Darth Vader's chest. With both kids hearing the beeps, they hurry downstairs to eat. No fights over breakfast again. One kid doesn't like the lunch at the cafeteria, so I make egg salad sandwiches. Again, there's no useless banter about the "idontlikes". After breakfast, they rush upstairs, make their beds, brush their teeth and put on clean clothes.
Everything is prepared in advance. My presentation material is already in the car. All I need to do is get child one and child two in the backseat by 8:10. I'm looking at the clock and it only says 7:50. We're rocking. There's nothing holding us back, I think. The dog has gone outside for a second round of blatter relief. She's about to go into her kennel for the day. Both kids are ready to put their jackets and boots on. They don't like wearing mittens anymore, but I tell them that being this early, their hands are gonna get cold. Again, without any arguments, they agree that mittens is the right choice. But D'Angelo informs me that his mittens were left at school the day before.
As I reach for iced water for the commute to my 9 am presentation, I hear a scream. Our boy yelped. Coming back from the garage door, he has tears streaming down his face. His sister shut the door on his index finger. Without the medically approved lips only a mother has the prescription for, I resort to the second best option: ice. I look at his hand and decide the pain is no more than a bruise at best. Grabbing a handful of ice out of the freezer, I hold it against the knuckle of his index finger. Looking into his eyes, I ask if the pain is going away. As he sniffles away a tear, he says it's getting better. Time is ticking. We're now past 8:10. I'm gonna be late. Everything was going so well until the door disaster of 8:05. He then looks at me and asks me if we're still on time.
"Only if we leave right now", I console him.
"Then let's go, I want my walkie talkie".
"Will you wear the crappy mittens you don't like this morning?"
"Yes, but we have to go, I want my walkie talkie".
The bribe has worked perfectly. We all jump into the car and make the trek to the education factory for another day of learning.
With everyone on-time, I was able to show up to my presentation punctually. At lunchtime, once the presentation was completed, I had an appointment to bottle a fine batch of Pinot Noir. I've started making my own wine. Actually, the Brew Shoppe makes it for me. I drop in the yeast to comply with some stupid liquor law. Then after 5 weeks, I show up and put it into my bottles and take my new found bounty home to enjoy.
Today, I am on a tight schedule. The mini-me's are coming home at 2:20 from the education factory. With a 45 minute drive, I have to be out of the Brew Shoppe no later than 1:30. I'm told the bottling process takes 20 minutes, so I arrive at 12:45. Upon arrival, I'm informed the bottle washer is down, but the technician yells out that it will be ready in 3 minutes. Not wanting to waste any time, I pay for a new batch of Shiraz and drop the yeast in the bucket to keep the alcohol police happy. Coming back to the technician about 5 minutes later, he says the machine will be ready in 30 seconds. Laughing and nervous at the same time, I crack a joke that gets everyone laughing about how the technician's time is different from the rest of the world.
Getting the red elixir in the back of the car, I rush to the car to see the clock reading 1:35. With only 45 minutes to get home to greet my kids, I don't have enough time to pick up their bribe at Toys 'R Us. I feel so selfish. I chose my Pinot Noir ahead of two bribes made in China. The monsters are gonna be so disappointed. Rushing home, a thought passes through my head. "If I have an accident on the way home, who's gonna get the kids on the front step of the house? They could be outside for hours."
I make it home as the bus is pulling away. Another potential disaster averted. The kids ask where their bribe is. With my tail between my legs I apologize to them that I didn't have enough time to pick up their toys. I didn't have the guts to tell them I chose bottling wine over going to a Toys 'R Us. Waiting until they were sleeping, I snuck into the garage to get the present I bought for me- 30 dancing ladies dressed in Pinot Noir.
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