Tears in Your Cheerios

You know what, I can't even put a ladder up in the garage. I have a sick kid home with the flu (2 days now), I had a kid with a broken tooth home (2 days, last week), after which we had 67 hours of homework to catch him up, all 67 hours worth which he thoroughly enjoyed, let me note. The hours did NOT end with me standing up and firing him as my son, saying he has to do everything himself, including learning to drive a car, get married and fill out a passport application because my days as Mom were tragically being cut short due to unforseen inability to cope with everydayness. (I believe this is the form I will be filling out with my lawyer, once I meet an actual lawyer.)

So then in bed, I'm still berating everyone and saying we're not going to bed, we still haven't done your English summary, and Nathan is coughing (he's probably getting sick) and saying "Okay Mom" and it's dark because Night has happened, and no one does anything because we all fall asleep.

And Lilly is in the middle of it all, 5 years old, still awake at 9:30 because Sponge Bob is her best friend, because that's who she and Emma see the most of while Nathan and I toil away at Algebra, virtually LOLLING away the hours as if on an English country picnic, except we're chained to the kitchen table staring at formulas where they give you like, ALMOST all the information, but not enough to actually SOLVE the problem.

So then at breakfast, we're still reviewing Algebra, and his history test notes (medieval Europe and those damn ancient Chinese), and Lilly wakes up in the clothes she put on the night before, and then Robert drops something off that one of Nathan's friends needs at school today, and backs into our car on his way out, bashing in the door.

So Barry takes the other car, and I now have 10 minutes to get Lilly fed, dressed and all the way to school (cause Emma is sick, she'll stay home with Zen Master Sponge Bob), so Lilly has her first 3 minutes of her day with me ripping the brush through her hair as she cries and me almost crying because "It's the algebra that does this to me!!" I actually say. Tears mix with her Cheerios. She can't eat while she's crying. So I take a minute to mop up her face and say I'm sorry. Shovel in the Cheerios and she's off to face the imposing kindergarten teacher, whom Lilly scrambles to please (but occasionally can't live up to). I email Nathan's algebra and english teachers and hope they will grant Nathan a reprise from any tests since he was absent and then my older brother texts wanting me to send video footage of the horse farting, The Colonel, our famous farting horse, so he can make a better video for us.

I don't know where that footage is, I think the rafters of the garage. Where's the ladder?

Then my husband is grumbling about being sick, and we have no money, and then Nandy says the horse is lonely. Let's get this goat.

Of course we'll get the goat. He'll help me put the ladder up, and then we'll eat him in celebration.

The sad part is, life is best with all these people in it. With all this turvey (there's no topsy). Lilly needs a slower hairbrushing, one with butterflies and sugar cookies. Cause her little face is a drop of fairy happiness. I do not overlook that.

This is why being Momish helps. The horse helps. When I get to go ride for an hour, I may not be better, but I am balanced. In the last few days, all work and no play.