Keeping it Real Wednesday

Oooh, I don't know if Jen from the Denton Sanatorium knew what she was getting into, challenging people to write a non-fluffy version of a day in their life.  I have a bad habit of being a little tiny bit long winded, and taking a really long time to tell a story.  If I have to give a real account of my day, this could end up being a pretty long post.  That was my disclaimer.  You've been warned.  I will also warn you to expect it to be a little on the boring side.

So anyway, non-fluffy as in REAL.  As in all of the crappy, annoying, exhausting, irritating things that may happen in your day that a lot of bloggers tend to leave out.

I usually leave out the crappy parts of my day most of the time because, well, they're crappy.  And I hate rehashing crap.  That doesn't mean that my life is a perfect fluffy dream all of the time, it just means that I don't think too many people feel like hearing all of the filler junk that goes on in between all of the fun stuff.  Because my days are usually jam packed with fun stuff. *cough cough*

Also, on my blog I typically just start a single topic and go with it rather than journal a day in the life, you know?

I have to admit, most days in my life are very ordinary.  There is not a lot of drama, not a lot of fighting or bad stuff at all.  In fact, in trying to keep it real, it seems rather boring and mundane.

So I woke up to a little blondie talking my ear off, as usual.  I'll be snoring away, and all of a sudden Brooke will pop up and start yammering away.  And I'm all like, huh?  I was just dreaming about jogging and jogging without feeling like I hated my life because I was jogging, and you woke me up chattering on about how hungry you are??  Sheesh.  That kid's favorite sentence is "I'm hungry."  So Alex needs to get toe-poked in the calf and thigh multiple times before he gets out of bed.  Usually it takes about 15 minutes of miscellaneous toe-poking before he relents.  He is the breakfast guy. I have to poke him out of bed.  And he throws me an evil glare as he is leaving with the chatterbox in tow and I am burrowing in under the warm and cozy covers and turning on the TV to have a few uninterrupted minutes with Matt, Meredith and Anne.


While snuggling in my cozy bed, I shout to little Alex to come in and say goodbye to me before he goes to school.  He leaves an hour before the rest of the crew.  No, I don't get up and make him a hungry man's breakfast (keeping it real).  He doesn't like much more than a yogurt.  No, I don't get up to kiss him out the door.  But I do yell, "Have a great day! Love you!" from the warmth of my bed.  And finally, no, I do not drive him the 9/10 of a mile to school.  He is an able-bodied healthy 13 year old boy.  He can walk.  And I also remind him not to forget his lunch (which is made the night before because I think ahead like that) .  And a sweatshirt.  And his backpack.  And his soccer stuff.  Because he would forget his head if it wasn't attached to his body.

So after a few minutes of the Today Show, I hop up to take a quick shower.  After which I put my cozy sweats nighties clothes on because let's face it, I'm not going anywhere today.  I'm about midway through drying my hair and I have to holler down to the Breakfast Club to hustle up and get upstairs to get ready for school.  No matter how many times I coach my husband, "No TV while eating breakfast, no breakfast in the family room, be upstairs by 8:15 at the latest or else," I still have to holler down (while hearing Spongebob Evilpants blatantly blasting and imagining the kids blatantly flinging crumbs all of the family room) with a fresh tone of voice at 8:20.  Fresh and threatening a bare hiney spanking to anyone who doesn't get upstairs by the count of 3.  And as hard as my husband tries to get me to say 3, I am not spanking his bare hiney.  Not at 8:20 in the morning anyway.

So in all honesty, I am irritated because once it is after 8:20ish, Alex is off duty.  He hops in the shower and I am left to get the girl's teeth brushed, hair brushed, dressed appropriately, and out the door - in 15 minutes. 

It sounds like not much of a big deal really.  And if everything goes smoothly, it really isn't.  I am very efficient and somewhat like a drill sergeant because I don't like the girls to be late for school.  They both shower at night, and I pick out Brooke's clothes the night before.  Where we typically run into slow-down mode is when Megan comes out looking like Hooker Orphan Annie.  I absolutely hate what she chooses to wear pretty much 97% of the time, and I try so hard to bite my tongue and not get crazy about it.  I feel strongly that we need to pick our battles as parents, you know?  But when she is wearing a skin tight t-shirt that is practically see-through and super tight skinny jeans (that usually don't match), I will say something.  And me saying something leads to her stomping down to her room and changing.  It's not fair Mom!  Everyone else's Mom lets them wear this stuff!  I know I bought the clothes, but seriously, they didn't look like that when she tried them on in the store! 

Because Alex is so very slow, this all happens while he is doing his own thing.

Because Alex is quite possibly the slowest human being on this planet, this happens when he is doing his own thing.

I have learned to live with Alex's slowness, but still can't stand it with almost every fiber of my being.

So anyway, (woo.  this post took forever to get to the main keeping it real moment, didn't it?) I was driving the girls to school (in my comfy sweats nighties clothes and flip flops), and I pulled up to the nightmare that is drop-off at the Elementary.  As usual, the cars in front of me failed to pull up as far as they are supposed to.  See, when they don't pull up far enough, it leaves everyone else way far back and not near the best and safest sidewalk area.  So I started to let the kids out anyway.  Which is exactly when the cars in front of me all moved forward in unison.  So before the kids actually get out, I glance in my rear view mirror and see a big line of cars all the way out to the road, so I tell the girls to just close the door and I will pull up farther.  Because I am all considerate of others like that.  So, I get just about in front of the main door, and apparently the van door wasn't fully shut and Brooke almost fell out on the ground in front of the whole school.  Teachers, parents, kids... you know.  Everyone.  And as I was screeching to a stop in fear of her falling out onto the pavement potentially cracking her head or worse, half of me was thinking, "OhmyCod, everyone just saw me almost let my kid fall out of the car."

That's what I was thinking.  I was thinking about me instead of my potentially cracked-headed kid.  Nice, huh?

Well.  There you have it.  My true crappy keeping it real Wednesday moment.  As I was driving away, I had another crappy moment where I looked at all of the cars that were behind me and felt embarrassed that they were probably annoyed and judging me that I stopped in front of the door instead of all the way up the way you're supposed to, because of course they didn't see that I screeched to a halt only to avoid almost flinging Brooke to her grisly death.

Once again, keeping it real - I was worrying about how I was being perceived by the other parents instead of thanking God that my kid did not roll out the car door.  Well.  I really was thanking God that my kid's head was still intact (because I really love her little blond head), but I was also definitely cringing at the thought of the parents behind me fuming in their cars at my lack of pulling up-ness.

So after that fantastic display of motherhood, I drove home.  Really feeling grateful.  And I came inside, made myself a cup of Hazelnut coffee, prepared my "office" for "sit down and peruse the Internet with Hazelnut coffee time," and... 

to be continued because this has gotten far too long for even me to stay interested.  And I am leaving you at the point in my day where it is only 8:50 am.  Trust me, there is still a heck of a lot of day left for keeping it real...