Oh, well, past time to get the kindergartener up and off to school. Which is a fabulous thought for me, but not his highest priority on a morning where he hasn't had enough sleep. See, he woke me up twice in the middle of the night screaming, "Daddy is calling! Get the phone, Daddy is calling!" This is his gentle way of letting me know that he is not happy about daddy being in Boston while we are getting ready to move. On second thought, maybe my day didn't start out quite as well I would like to believe.
I finally pry the little monkey out of the nest he has made of sleeping bags and blankets on the floor of his big brother's room and convince him to drag his tiny hiney down the stairs. Unfortunately, he headed straight for the couch and tried to fall asleep again. Only the dire threat of grounding him from his beloved Pokemon cards can move his weary little carcass from my couch to the table. He does manage to drink his vitamin-laced orange juice and eat a little something, while I wake up big sister for back up. I pack his lunch as sister reminds him to use the potty and coaxes him into his school clothes. Things are looking up when he finally catches his first wind and dashes to the car.
I make it to the school parking lot in time to exchange a child for a puppy we bring home for some big-house-large-yard time. He loves to play with our dog and they both have a great time racing around and generally making messes and nuisances of themselves, which reminds me why I have sworn to have only one large dog at a time. Puppysitting is great, but I just don't seem to have what it takes to handle two big dogs, three small, medium, and large children, an out-of-town husband, and a cross-country move all at the same time. So much for my adventurous spirit.
I am busily at work ridding the house of as much unncessary junk as possible before the move (as opposed to all the "necessary" junk, like Pokemon cards...no offense, Dawn Meehan), when my oldest child informs me that the dogs have tromped something vile, messy, and smelly all over the family room, and he sprayed it down in defense of his nose. Sensing danger at it's highest level, I inquired as to the nature of the spray he used. He responded in a tone that implied I was one step below the mental might of a kumquat, "That orange spray cleaner." Has anyone else had a child spray down the carpet of an entire room with orange oil furniture polish in an attempt to clean a dog mess? I didn't see red, I saw stars and fireworks, and the universe explode, and everything.
Yes, my oldest is still alive, but was quite tired after an hour or so of scrubbing down my carpet with Dawn dishwashing soap. Only time with tell if my idea worked, but it was the only handy surfactant I could think of that might do the trick. After all, "Dawn gets grease out of the way!", right? Hmmm.
Unfortunately, the house still looks like it is inhabited by a pack of wild hyenas, which is not necessarily an inaccurate description of my youngsters. It seems like every room I "sort" is hit by someone carrying the "Cyclone Energy" card my youngest keeps flashing around. Does anyone else find it extremely entertaining that his favorite Pokemon card is the one that best describes his personal habits? When he finds a "Contrary Energy" card we will have him completely profiled by the makers of Pokemon cards and artifacts.
I did run away for an hour of adult conversation with a friend of mine over dinner. I feel quite sorry for her; I am sure that a maniacal mom who covers the same ground over and over gets pretty boring. "I can't believe what the kids did today! What 'til you hear this one!"
Well, I'd best get back to work. I still have a long way to go to meet the goals I set for today before I can hit the sack. It'll be fun!
