Dr. Arini
Another Mother's Vent
Honestly, at this moment I can barely remember anything other than my name. I came home after the 38 mile drive picking up all the kids, stopping to get bread, apples, dog food, cat food, bird food and one little tiny bottle of Merlot. Notice, I did purchase something for me which is a rarity...unless it is coffee, carrots and/or Merlot. I had my heart set on writing as soon as I came home, but it is not going to happen.
Upon turning down my street there are three cars in front of my home. Crap. Ex-ass holes truck, children's' friend's automobiles; too many of them. I knew it was not going to be calm enough to just sit in my locked bedroom and write. Children, kids, babies, I don't know about my fellow students, but I could not have imagined my life without them. I would have had ten if it had been possible. It was not (blessing in disguise). However, there are so many, many different reasons that one wonders just what the hell was I thinking?
Again, I cannot really write and finish my blog. Eight teenagers are currently in my home driving the great Danes crazy, raiding my less than filled refrigerator, and seeking immunity as to who has grabbed my computer case with all my papers from work and the 14 month old beautiful, gorgeous baby who time here appears to be indefinitely is crying and only, only, only wants me to hold him. Ahhhh, believe me that is salvation right there. I would gladly take that little bundle of love and soak him with kisses as he babbles to me about what all the kids have been doing.
August 29
Determined to finish my first blog and give the second part of my day to those that feel that having no children is such a chore and oh so tiring and exhausting. Here let me tell you what it is like to have children.
Once I leave my office at 5:00 pm, my cool, crisp fresh office that holds over 500 employees, we all make a mad dash to the covered parking lot that also is five stories high. I am bright, smart and take the stairs while so many of the either lame, or upper echelon wait in the heat for an elevator that takes just as long to reach them as a one legged goose trying to climb an ice mountain. I am already at my car beeping it open and jumping in and zooming off hoping to be at least one of the few first dozen at the exit lane where one must beep their badge in order for the arm to raise. This is always a cluster fu#k. I simple do not know what is wrong with the males in my building? If they really wanted to show chivalry and be the man in whom men are to be, then they should just wait in the building until all the women have made it through the garage exit; simple strategy. Maybe I will bring it up at the next female vs. male meeting.
I begin my drive first to Scottsdale to pick up my 14 year from her HS, then back on the freeway to Tempe to pick up the other three. As usual not one of them is at the same waiting spot so the game begins. The first child emerges from the bush, I say" sweetie, where is your brother, where is your sister?" she says " I don't know", I say "ok, get in the car, put your belt on", then the cruising part takes over. We drive to Eddies Pizza, no, not there, drive to the little coffee hut, no, no there and then I begin to stress; rubbing my forehead , breathing deeply and loudly pushing the heated air through my nostrils feeling like a bull that is about to gore anything that get in my way. In a half high pitched yelling whisper I say to the two first children "where the hell are your siblings???" There usually is not an answer they know better than to say anything. All they can think if is what they are going to say to their siblings once we locate them and tell them they are fools doing this to mom because everyone suffers. Aha! I spot them at the park. My hippy long haired blond, blued eyed kick back form the surfer 70's days, son and his red eyes and my itty bitty teal colored hair child who lived in NYC attending Parsons until she thought the walls in the halls were talking to her. I explained it was NYC every wall talks to you because the walls are only made out of 150 year old tinder boxes and every word that any one utters is heard. Well she thought they were talking to hr...yes, she is not home again attending another school.
Now to pick up the baby; this is the easiest and most beautiful part, because we all love him and he makes our rotten, poopy, broke lives filled with love and laughter. We all are baby fanatics. Every one of my children automatically since they were big enough to hold babies have all done the baby swing, the baby hold with the hips and is able to coo and love any child to sleep. They got that from me and only me.
It is now heading to be about 6:30 and I must get home and let the fun begin. Dishes from the morning breakfast are done first, then I switch out laundry, then take out the garbage, change the garbage bag, feed the zoo and supervise everyone on the kitchen table getting their homework out and telling them to stop yelling and calling one another dumb ass. All the while I have baby on my hip and he is just babbling away as happy as can be. Between the dishes, laundry, baby, homework and the great Danes milling around me I try to get dinner started. Now, I use to pride myself on being a great cook...I could create anything, talk on the phone, cook a brilliant meal, nurse a baby, and push the other baby in the stroller all at once and not burn anything while I was cooking. Now...I burn everything even jello. It simply does not matter. I have become a burnaholic, a burn-0-rama. Yahoo, I say it is Mac and Cheese, carrots, celery, avocado, garlic bread, strawberry's and whatever that orange thing is. I don't think anyone hears me or really cares except for baby and he is happy with anything I say because he has no idea as to what I am even talking about.
It is now 7:45 and time to eat. I set out the plates, the bowls, the utensils, the glasses, the various drinks, the napkins, the ketchup, the sugar, peanut butter, the everything that will make their dinner more enjoyable. I do not allow their phone or anything electronic at the table. They are fine with this because they know I am so busy trying to answer every ones questions about everything and trying to feed baby that I will not even notice that they are texting away like speed racer in the middle of the night. However, I do know I just do not have the energy to even argue or say anything about it. Dinner is finally over and I begin to get the dishes started at least stacked up in the kitchen sink and clean off the dining table. I begin to get their homework and crap off the table and into individuals' rooms so I can get ready to give baby a bath and finish folding clothes and give the dogs a fast walk around the block while the kids get baby ready for bed.
I still have a huge spread sheet to work on before attempting to fall asleep and another paper to write for another class. I would also like to find my bed...I now it is there, I have seen it before. Is it a beautiful king with a wonderful vintage comforter that I bought in Berlin a few years ago...I know it is there...I can smell it. It still smells like Schnitzel, Sauerkraut and my ex-husband who was from Frankfurt. A little vomit just came up my throat.
It is now 10pm and all my babies are in bed, at least two of them are reading, one is on Netflix the other on iPad and the baby sound asleep in my arms; time to put him in his crib so I can start my night. I go to each of my beautiful children and exchange kisses and I loves you with them and back into my room I go, to my desk where immediately my Danes are at my feet vying for my attention. I love my world. I love my babies all of them. I love my life. Cough, cough. A little tickle in my throat.
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