Thursday, I think…

Sometimes it seems all the days run together. I know at work, one day looks just like the rest. At home, the only difference is when there are special occasions, like taking the little buggers to Tae Kwon Do, that indicate what day it might be.

Get up early. Drink 18 cups of coffee to wake up. Get SMM (Sergeant Major Mommy) up. Get the little buggers, Archibald and Mortimer (not their real names), up. Prepare breakfast for them. Drink 6 more cups of coffee.

Every day.

At such time as SMM comes out of shower, I have complete control over the little buggers. Who am I kidding? I NEVER have complete control. I’m lucky if I can get a word in edgewise over their screams and shouts. (You know, that’s an interesting expression – edgewise. Where did that come from? I think it came from ancient mathematics, probably invented by Pythagoras, referring to how to insert feta cheese into a Greek salad and then divided by Pi, spinach pi.)

On those days when I go to work early, I turn over the preparations of the little hooligans for school to SMM as I escape to work.

Every day. It’s the same routine. I get up early. I wake up everyone. EVERY DAY!!!

Every day, the little buggers seem to NOT understand that we do the SAME THING every day. How can they not get this? What don’t they understand about doing the SAME THING EVERY DAY??? Do they think this is fun? That we can have a good time getting up every day doing the same routine to get ready for school or work and to do essentially the same thing almost EVERY DAY for the rest of our lives and that the only real changes are when we change residences or having something special to do (which happens once in a blue moon?)?

(You know that’s an interesting expression – blue moon. Where did that come from? I think it came from middle England about a thousand years ago when they noticed that 13 full moons came in a calendar year, instead of 12.   When they noticed this amid their constant bickering and soccer riots, Ian said something like, Hey that 13th moon was on the blue-ish side, which just happened to be the color of the opposing team’s jerseys, so it became a really odd thing. Hence the expression, once in a blue moon became translated to mean something which did not happen very often because it was so odd and then you had to hit the person next to you.)

Therefore, getting ready every day is pretty much the same thing every day for the rest of your lives, except for those (here, it comes) once in a blue moon occasions.

So, this day was no exception. Everything happened according to plan which means that SMM and daddy (me, moi, numero uno, big dog daddy, head honcho) get the little buggers onto the bus and off to school. Then, SMM and I made it to our job locations. And then after working 27 hours a day, we return home to attend to the other side of the daily equation: Homework (otherwise known as the Spanish Inquisition meets elementary school.)

Well, on this particular day, it became a blue moon day when I get a frantic call from SMM on my dinner hour. I was in my car driving back to work when the phone rang. I usually ignore it when I’m driving because I don’t want to get into an accident, especially when somebody cuts me off and I have to engage in physical and emotional retaliation.

But, this was different because it was SMM’s music.   I have a special song picked out for her for her/my ringtone, We’ve Only Just Begun, by the Carpenters. I was gonna pick out a head-banging music song for her (since that is the kind of music she listens to), but I didn’t wanna hear it every time she calls. Or I coulda picked out Fur Elise by Beethoven, which I’m probably going to end up doing cause everytime I hear the Carpenters I think of poor Karen Carpenter.

SMM calls and immediately begins speaking in the Frantic language. “Must go home. Boys in trouble. Grandma locked herself upstairs. Cat missing.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“GO HOME!!!”

I immediately turn a 180 in the parking lot and head straight home at 100 mph. I was going to text my boss that I may be late in returning to work, actually I did text him. I just didn’t actually touch the letters. On my smartphone, I turned on the speaker which I talked into and the phone typed out the letters and words for me. How cool is that? How come that wasn’t around 50 years ago instead of those stupid rotary phones??? (Which I never actually used, but I saw them on YouTube, I think).

I screech into my driveway, trying to notice everything the way it was so that IF the police ever showed up and asked me the question, “Didn’t you notice anything unusual when you came home?” I would be able to answer the question truthfully.   Actually, nothing looked unusual from the outside.

BUT, as soon as I entered, I took molecular notice of everything. Grandma’s door open. The TV was on FULL BLAST, but the little buggers were not watching it. They were in their bedroom destroying the room. It looked like Hurricanes Archie and Morty had taken EVERY SINGLE TOY out their respective boxes and dumped them on the floor. Of course, the ONLY difference between this day and every other day is that on this day there was a blue moon and every toy was on the floor in a totally random place.

I quickly assessed that I could no longer be NICE DADDY and had to be DADDY IN CHARGE. I ran upstairs to make sure that Gma was ok. She was NOT tied to a chair, she was cooking her dinner.

I asked her, Are you ok?

She said the buggers are not listening to her.

Yeah, and? They don’t listen to me either!

I ran downstairs and gave the little buggers a “good talking to.” I didn’t raise my voice because they definitely would not listen then. I explained that they had to listen to Gma while SMM and daddy were not there. They looked at me, real innocent like, and said ok.

Gma came downstairs and proceeded to make the little buggers dinner. I decided that I had brought peace and quiet to my little corner of the world and that my services were no longer needed at home.

Time to go back to work. I’m sorry, what day is this again?

6 thoughts on “Thursday, I think…”

  1. This must be a man thing our girls never listen to their dad he is a soft touch (diydaddy) great post Thanks for linking up to the #BinkyLinky

  2. Great post Jeff not dissimilar to my house they never listen to me lol think I have given up thanks for linking to the Binkylinky

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