TGIF!
I guess. Since I don't have an ordinary job (I coach for a living), and I have 2 kids under 4 year olds, our family tends to live day by day, minute by minute, and our regularly scheduled life-plans typically go, NOT as planned. Just for fun, I decided to document my weekend in form of "minutes."
Ya know, the kind of minutes you keep up with during a board meeting, only I didn't have time to hit the record button on my phone for the audible part-that, good thing. That could potentially lead to a DFCS call.
Friday PM:
8:30pm: Dinner, Taco Bell (yep, you read that right.) Composting, go-green, hippie girl ate Taco Bell, read it and weep. Processed meat on a tortilla, with some lettuce...see? There are some greens.
8:45p: Proceed to eat taco while small feral boy-child gropes at my breasts..
9:00p: Throw tons of laundry into washer because I am currently wearing the same LIME green shirt that I ask our staff to wear to the event that starts in approximately, 10 hours.
9:30p: Meditate and pretend it's a REAL Friday. Contemplate if I should have an adult beverage, immediately decide it's not worth it.
9:45p: Throw the kids into the tub, summon my husband to get out of "Friday Night Mode" because I don't get to partake in the same positive vibes.
9:45-11p: Convince small humans to go the FUCK to sleep. (I mean that with all the love in my heart)
11-11:30p: Take a shower, brush my teeth....get into the bed. Wait, nevermind...LAUNDRY, lime green shirt!
11:30-12:30a: Lay completely wide awake as my body processes silence and the awkward feeling of having nothing to do for anyone.
Saturday:
12:30a: Silence broken by feral boy child.
2:30a: Boy child awakes, again...
5:00a: ...and again.....
6:00a: My alarm goes off. (I have never actually calculated my sleep pattern, but I'm pretty sure if I did the non existent Fitbit I own would say I was going to die soon.)
6-7:00a: Convince a 3 year old to put on a spandex before 7am.
7-7:30a: Leave for work with exhausted toddler on board.
7:30a-2:30p Work my ass off. Practice listening skills and convince kids they can conquer the world if they will just pull their head out of their ass. Deal with parents who think they can do my job. Deal with the un talented kid's parent. Deal with the lazy kid's parent. Deal with the kid whose parents suck at parenting. My job is hard.... I don't give a fuck if you're brain surgeon, my job is still harder. When you operate on a person's body, they can't speak, and when that shit is done, it's too late to argue. Case closed, my job is harder.
2:30--3:05p Start planning my daughter's 4th birthday while driving home.
3:05-3:15p Pick up a gift for my BFF's daughter's birthday party that starts in less than 45 minutes.
3:15p-3:45p Eat a half-ass grilled cheese and a couple leftover pretzels from my child's lunch while small humans climb all over my body.
3:45-4:00p Wipe someone's butt. (literally, not theoretically)
4-4:15p Shower and try to look presentable. No, these 15 minutes do not include make up.
4:15-4:45p Go to Walmart with the family and shop for my daughter's birthday party that is happening on Sunday...less than 24 hours away. Try to not cry while standing in the checkout.
4:45-5p Arrive at the 1 year old birthday party.
5-7:00p Celebrate the kid, drink a BEER, realize my husband has already had 3, stop drinking.
7:30pm Arrive home, clearn up the living room by bending over 24 times and putting away 1,234, 567 toy accessories, pile them into a huge wooden box with other plastic toy-shit. BTW, How the fuck did an apple peeler end up here?
Sunday
Does it really matter? I hosted a 4 year old's birthday party. We spent our time cleaning, prepping and find room for more plastic shit! Happy Birthday. The last guest left at 8:30p and not once, did I catch a buzz despite many failed attempts. Happy Monday!
