My Kady started Lab School today. I have very mixed emotions about it. While I am glad she had a good time, the other part of me wants to go lie on my bed and cry awhile.
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I know exactly how many snoozes I have in the mornings before I have to get up and take my shower. I lay my clothes out the night before, so when I get up I go straight to the bathroom and start the shower. I have it down to a science. I don't look at the clock when the alarm goes off, I just count the snoozes. So this morning, I was all caught up in the counting of the snoozes and when the alarm buzzed for the last time and my eyes actually opened and I looked at the clock, I discovered it was 6:25. Which, I knew it was 6:25 before I opened my eyes because, like I said, I count my snoozes and have my morning routine down pat. But upon seeing the red numbers glowing 6:25 it hit me that Paul was supposed to be at work at 7. He gets up at 5:45 and leaves at 6:15. Oops. I threw the covers off both of us and said, "GETUPYOUAREGOINGTOBELATE!!!!!" He groaned and said, "Dadgummit woman! That's the second time lately you've done this to me!" Well, if he'd get his own alarm clock he wouldn't have to worry about me making him late huh. I'm sure I got cussed while he drove 80 to work this morning, but oh well.
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Today was school picture day and Abby had requested that I get her up a little early so I could flat iron her hair. So when I got out of the shower I got dressed then went out to open their doors. The light from the bathroom was shining just right into the girls' room and when I pushed open the door Kady was sitting on a Rubbermaid box full of winter clothes and nearly scared the poop out of me. I screamed. She just fell over giggling like a loon. Abby sat straight up on the top bunk and said, "That's a really rotten way to wake someone up, Mom." Kady was still screeching with laughter and said, "I scared Momma!! I scared Momma!" and then had to run into her brother's room to tell him as well. I'm glad I'm good for a laugh first thing in the morning.
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Speaking of scaring me, last night I was going to steam some vegetables for dinner and couldn't find the lid to my handy dandy Pampered Chef micro steamer. I finally caught a glimpse of it in the back of the cabinet but because I have really short arms couldn't keep a visual on it and reach for it. So I leaned far back into the back of the cabinet and started moving my hand around so I could grab the lid. But instead of the familiar hard plastic I was expecting to touch I touched something squishy. Yes, squishy. Cold and squishy. I screamed. Loudly. And started jumping around the kitchen going "EW EW EW EW EW EW EW I JUST TOUCHED SOMETHING SQUISHY!OH EW EW EW OOHHHHHH THAT WAS SQUISHY PAUL GET IN HERE OH I'M GOING TO FAINT UGH UGH EW EW" I then went to the sink and scrubbed my hands because if it was squishy I was sure it was germy as well and while I scrubbed the skin off my hands I continued to say "EW" repeatedly. Finally, since no one was coming to rescue me in the kitchen where I was screaming and jumping about and cursing I yelled "DOES NO ONE CARE THAT I JUST TOUCHED SOMETHING SQUISHY IN THE KITCHEN CABINET????" Sam came running, going "Squishy? COOOOOOOOL!" Abby came busting out of the bathroom in a towel, shower still running. Kady came running in my direction, but stayed in the dining room and wouldn't come in the kitchen. Finally, Paul sauntered in and said, "Hmh. So you touched something 'squishy', eh? What was it?" Well, if I knew what it was I wouldn't have just screamed that I touched "something" squishy; I'd have identified it in my ranting. But instead of explaining this to him I said, "HeckifIknow, all I know is that it. was. squishy." He and Sam exchanged very smug man-looks and he said, "Well, let's just see what this squishy thing is then." And he knelt down to find the cause of my outburst. I watched his face, trying to see signs of recognition that he'd indeed found the offensive squisher and finally his face kind of lit up and he said, "Ahhh. Yep. There it is . . . " The kids moved in closer and I backed up. He pulled a green foam gripper that goes under my cutting boards out from the cabinet and flung it at me. I swear I started having chest pains. Until I realized it was a green foam gripper thing.
I stood there, chest heaving, as the foam gripper thing laid squishily at my feet. Abby sighed and rolled her eyes as she turned to go back to the shower. Sam goes "Hmh. Real scary, Mom." Paul said, "Ooh that big bad foam thing was going to take your arm off, wasn't it? It's a wonder we're all still alive." Kady, she was nearly hysterical leaning over a chair in the dining room, giggling hysterically and unable to catch her breath. I live in a house full of jerks.
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I took pictures of Kady and Chan at labschool but now the babies are awake and duty calls. Duty. That word makes Abby giggle. You can say "It's your duty" and she'll nearly collapse in a fit of hysteria. Okay, so I digressed. And now I'm going. Crazy.
I was born a semi-diva. I married a redneck. Through the magic of osmosis or just because of a serious lack of sophistication over the years I have found a balance of the two that make me who I am today. And then I write about it all, much to the chagrin of my mother.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
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4 comments:
Squishy things have been known to bite.
You protected yourself, nice work. =)
I too would have had the same reaction. However, Mr. Coach would have sent one of the children in his place to remove squishy item. Removing rotting, squishy, nasty items is apparently not in his contract.
You have to quit making me laugh out loud at work!!! It's hard to explain!!! I would have freaked too!!!
You're not the first woman to ever grab a squishy thing, you know!
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