It’s 5:00 a.m. I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept enough. I don’t want to get up. I stare at the ceiling, tired and awake. Welcome to my life.
I must have dozed off because now it’s 7:00 a.m. Oh snap! Now I’m running late. I jump out of bed, ready for war, like some bruja is about to drink the last cup of coffee in the world. I’m ready to fight against the day! Okay, it’s on. The babies driver will arrive at 7:45. So I have 45 minutes to get the three of them dressed and ready, do the morning argue with the teen, refocus, refocus, and refocus my darling Pedro, feed them all, and pretend like I’ll get a bra on before the driver gets here. If I turn my back while the kids are eating, it won’t be good. It never is!
Did I tell you I was born in New York? I use this as my excuse for a lot of things. In the mornings, when I drop my children off at school without jackets or sweaters, because I wasn’t smart enough to check the weather on my smartphone, it’s my classic excuse.
Honestly, I don’t feel the cold like some people do. In the late afternoons, while everyone else is running around in sweaters and jackets, I’m often in a tank top or short-sleeve shirt. In the mornings, I’m the mom, covered in my most bulky jacket, shuffling under-covered and shivering kids out into the cold and off to school. I look at the other moms, looking at me, and I smile, and shout out to them, “I’m from New York! I don’t feel the cold.” It’s not until I’m driving off that I realize I just said that while clutching my heaviest winter jacket close. What those moms don’t realize, and you’ve probably now figured out, is that I’m ONLY wearing the jacket to hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. The babies’ driver is usually late, causing Pedro to be late, causing me to be the mom that always gets her son to school late. Most days, between 8:04 – 8:06 a.m. when I’ve just dropped off Pedro, I am so, not in the mood! If I cut out in front of you, forget to use my blinker, or shout out at you to “get out of the way, grandma,” forgive me. It’s my addiction talking. I have a nasty coffee addiction. Just let me pass, get my coffee, and everything will be fine. I’ll be fine. I know I don’t own the road. It’s not right that I ask you to clear the way for me, but my head might actually spin off if you don’t. I imagine that would scare the H-E-double-hockey-sticks out of you, and cause us both to crash.
I have my coffee and I’m sitting in my car outside in the convenience store parking lot, sipping on it, and cruising Facebook. I know that you know that I was already there this morning. That didn’t count. I was in the bathroom. I’m scrolling and liking and strangers are getting mad at me. They want my parking spot. Okay. I’ll stop. I’ll go.
I have a few chores to do, starting with the kitchen.
One room down. Four more that look the same. Every. Day.
A few more chores…
I threw a load of clothes in the laundry. I realized I was dancing. WTH? Shoot. I was dancing the potty-dance. I ran to the bathroom and desperately plunked myself down onto a fully covered in urine toilet seat. I felt a lump in my throat. I wanted to scream. I reached for the toilet paper. Um, nope! Replace the toilet paper? Obviously, I expect too much from my family, right? Luckily, there were dirty clothes all over the floor, with mixed in clean phantom socks. Don’t ask. Yes. I did. I threw the sock out and cried. I almost choked on a tear and then I laughed so hard I couldn’t catch my breath. Somehow the thought of a headline that says, “Mother Dies in Bathroom: Literally Choked Up With Tears,” was (morbidly) hilarious. I sprayed bleach all over the public toilet. I call it that because it gets more traffic than the gas station bathroom just off the I-5. Also the boy triplets are trying to pee like men now. And. They. Do! Ewww. I jumped in the shower but only long enough to scrub the urine off my booty. The most sensible thing would have to been to take a real shower. So, why didn’t I just take a real shower? I just wanted to finish my coffee. That’s all I could think about. I had a plan and none of it was going to work unless I finished my coffee. Then my sister called. While we talked, I washed some walls, searched for food the babies might have hidden and hoarded in the most unlikely corners of the house, and responded to a few emails.
I looked at the clock and it was 10:30 a.m. I said six really bad words!
The triplets would be home in forty minutes. I looked for rentals on Craigslist. I made some lunch for the triplets. I called to order their diapers. My husband called me five times while I was trying to get through on my call to place the order. He was in the other room! I screamed not nice things, really loudly, at him, and the doorbell rang.
I looked at the clock and it was 11:25 a.m.
I threw on my heavy winter jacket because I was still without a bra. It was the triplets’ school driver. I opened the door, smiled like June Cleaver, and shuffled the kids into the house. My husband left for an appointment. I had finished my coffee and needed the bathroom again. I sprinted down the hall, into the bathroom, and crashed onto the toilet seat. OMG! Remember, I sprayed bleach all over it? Well, I never wiped the bleach off! I jumped back into the shower. Another two-minute bottom rinse and I was out. As I was entering into the living room, I was struck in the head with a blunt object. Or, not. It was a really soiled diaper that one of the boys had thrown across the room. They don’t like to be wet. I grabbed my already throbbing head and bent down to pick it up. As I stood up, another diaper came flying across the room, courtesy of the brother, and hit me smack in my face! Kaitlyn was grabbing stuff from the fridge. I re-dressed the boys. I sprinkled that carpet powder all over the living room and hallway carpets. The doorbell rang.
Therapy begins. It was 11:45.
I vacuumed the living room and hallway, washed the carpet in the triplets’ bedroom, and peeled most of a bag of potatoes for dinner. Hey, we’re a seven person family and I need left overs for lunch! I wrote a post, made four calls, and checked in on every Social Media platform on the web. I made a few more calls. I responded to a few more emails. I reviewed a spreadsheet that I would need for a 2:00 p.m. conference call. One of the therapists left, another arrived. At 1:50 p.m. I called into the conference call. It was open yet. I kept calling. Finally, it let me in. I was the first person in the call. Not a big deal? Whatch u talkin bout’ Willis?! Um, yes. It was a BIG deal! I am never the first to arrive anywhere. Not even on a call. Are you beginning to see why Tuesdays are my favorite days? All great things happen on a Tuesday!
The Conference Call.
I needed to be at my computer during the call but I kept running away from the screaming kids. They were particularly loud today. Daddy picked Pedro up from school at 2:30 p.m., so he got home during the call. You have NO idea. Pedro + triplets = all sorts of fun! Antonio also got home during the call. Yesterday I grounded him for the week, from everything! I even grounded him from Soccer. I never do that. He started yapping at me, desperate to get me to respond with the typical, “uh-huh, yea…” so he could run off to practice and give me the lame excuse that I told him he could. Oh, but I was on to him! I zipped my lips and froze my head in a front and center position so there would be no misunderstanding about me saying yes, due to a random head shake. He was mad. Entitled teen syndrome for the next two hours.
It’s 3:30 p.m. already?
I finished prepping dinner, responded to a few more emails, returned a few more calls, applied for some work campaigns, engaged on Social Media, and made the kids a snack. I dropped Pedro off at Soccer practice. By now, it was 6:00 p.m. I went home, finished cooking dinner, fed the husband, the babies, and Antonio. I got the triplets ready for bed, played with them for a bit and jumped into the shower. Antonio got the triplets into their room and into their beds. I jumped out of the shower, put on some pajamas, didn’t even brush my hair, threw on my heavy winter coat, and fled from the house.
7:30 p.m – Where did the day go?
I was off to pick up Pedro from Soccer practice. I took Antonio with me. Of course, Pedro didn’t finish until 8:00 p.m. On the way home, I got coffee. I fed Pedro, hung out with him and Antonio for a little while. Before we got home, both Pedro and Antonio had challenged me to call Barret Beyer, from Hell’s Kitchen, Season 11. I told them it was too late. They called me weak and said I didn’t really know him, much less have his number. Then they called me “weak!” I posted about that on Facebook. Barret saw it and commented for me to call him, right then. Pedro was super excited to talk to him! I was their hero again. I sent them to bed. I still had a million things to finish. I did some homework, hung out with my husband for a little while, moved things from today’s to-do list to tomorrow’s list, wrote three articles, including this one, and found a way to laugh about today’s adventures.
It’s 2:00 a.m. It’s been a long day. Everything else can wait until tomorrow, which happens to be now. I should have gone to sleep at 11:00, before it became Wednesday, already. Oh, well. (It was) Just another Random Tuesday! Time to close my eyes…
By: Alicia Gonzalez