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Penguins and Omelets

omelets and penguins. Some days just kind of suck.Yesterday was a real winner.

It started when I attempted to extricate myself out from underneath (what I like to affectionately call) a dead penguin. He was fuzzy and warm (thanks to his Land’s End pajamas) but not in an ideal position for a mom who needed to wake up three kids for junior high.

I slid 40 pounds of sweaty boy off of me and woke up Mordecai, Jubilee and Hezekiah. By the time that was done, little penguin was squawking.  Back to my room I went, where he snuggled up promptly and fell asleep. On top of me. I could only hope my three school kids were getting ready for school. I heard footsteps and flushing toilets…

Twelve minutes before the bus was to arrive Jubilee slipped into my room and  whispered, “Is Mordecai supposed to be up?” 

Grr.

I got up and woke him up again.

Upstairs I went to fix coffee and poke and prod my lovelies. 

Then the bus came and went without them.

*sigh*

Apollo woke up and this time I carried him upstairs. 

I prepared to drive the kids to school and woke up Mordecai (again). Now he was sleeping on a chair in the living room. Then Apollo started crying because I was going to leave him.

“Come with me then and Enoch can make you eggs for when we get back. How do you want your eggs?”

“I don’t know” he cried. “I like eggs any way they are fixed. Just fix me some eggs”.

Off we went, dropped three kids off at the junior high and headed back home.

[And I feel the need to mention there isn’t a single Starbucks between our house and the school]

As soon as Apollo saw his eggs he burst into tears, “These are scrambled! I wanted an omelet! I told Enoch to make me an omelet!”

Glancing at the clock, I realized I needed to feed and dress him fast, or he’d be missing his bus.

“It’s okay, I’ll make you an omelet” I said.

“No!!! Enoch makes the best eggs. I only want an omelet from Enoch”. 

[Can I point out that even though  Enoch makes “the best eggs” he was now refusing to eat the eggs Enoch had made?]

I made him an omelet while he complained that he wanted to make his own (no time) and Enoch made he best eggs anyway.

He finally, ate, I shipped off the kids, and started working around the house.

After school I told the kids we had work to do. Step one was to clean our pool so we can put it away of the winter. So that’s what I was doing, cleaning to the pool when Enoch brought me the phone. It was th lawyer* that I had a phone appointment with. An appointment I completely forgot about. 

In the house I went. As you know, mom talking on the phone is a signal that kids should: 

ask mom if they can have a banana

ask mom to sign papers from school

ask mom to settle long-standing dispute over personal possessions.

When Chuck came home dinner waiting on the counter. Raw and frozen.

And those are just the highlights. 

How was your day?

* we weren’t discussing anything very exciting, I assure you. No divorces or criminal trials in the horizon.

6 Comments

  1. Jessica Banks

    In my house, “mom on the phone” means let the dog out the front door unleashed so he can play in traffic 🙂

    (A new-ish reader in St Louis!)

  2. Nell

    I discovered that locking yourself in the bathroom is the most effective place for a phone call. Apart from the loud constant bang on the door and the repetitive words “mummeee! mummeeee!” resonating through the heavy wooden door… Yes, I’d definitely say use the bathroom. Getting in the shower and shutting the glass doors to top it up also works.

    • Renee

      I did this once while talking to an adoption worker in the bathroom while the kids pounded on the outside of the door yelling that baby Tucker just pooped all over the living room floor. Good times, I tell you…

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