JRTC Journals Days 9-11: Days from You-Know-Where

RebeccaUncategorized0 Comments

We all have them.  You know, those mornings where you wake up and nothing seems to go… right.  Everything is just a little off, and it’s enough to take you from normal to “watch out because I’m packing crazy” mode.  Yeah, this is the story of one of those days…

At 4:30 a.m., I wake up to the sound of a snowplow going by our house, so I roll over, peek through the curtains and sure enough, the ground is gone, which means before I have to leave the house at 8:25, my morning will have to include:

Which means I have to get up about forty-five minutes earlier than the alarm, and considering I was up writing until 2 am, all I’m thinking is: 

So I wake up, and the first thing I say to my third son is:  WHY ARE YOU NAKED?
Apparently he’s anticipating his bath, or joining a nudist colony, but whatever, less laundry, right?  So we head over to the bathroom, which apparently he’s already visited because Sweet Lord, it’s the toilet is overflowing and it’s…. its….  
So I fix the toilet, bathe and dress the kids, dress like a Yeti, snowblow our driveway and sidewalks, and now it’s time to get Aaron and Chase on the bus.  We start the walk down to the bus stop and I’m all: 

The House at the end of the block is for sale, and the owners of the house next to it are away, and all the sidewalks are covered in snow.  No big deal, but since Chase bit it last week on that same patch of ground, I’m a bit perturbed because I know that once I’m back from the doctor with Aidan, I’ll be….

AGAIN if I want them to have a clear walk from the bus stop after school.   Yeah.  So I’m kind of like, “Whatever,” we’ll do that later, and the bad stuff ends Now.

Now I’ve got Aidan and Brody in the car, waiting for me at the bus stop as I load up Aaron and Chase, and it’s the ONE morning that the bus is 7 minutes late, which now means we’re 7 minutes late for the doctor.  I hate being late.

So then we get there, and his doc is running late… Like 30 minutes late, which leaves me in the waiting room with antsy kids and a chihuahua.  No seriously.  His name is Duncan, and he likes to jump onto my lap and um…

So yeah.  We’re out of there 90 minutes later, dropping Aidan off at school, and we head to the grocery store.  Usually Brody is rockin’ awesome, but today he’s off… like REALLY off.  So I’m telling him not to touch that, don’t grab that, this is NOT what we do while we’re shopping, and he’s all:

We survive the shopping trip, but when I get in the car, there’s a light on, and since we’ve only owned the car like six months I have no clue what the hell it means, so I’m all:


We get home, and a quick check of the net says that it’s tire pressure.  Sweet.  At least I didn’t blow up the van while Jason was gone.  Because he’d LOVE that.  So unload the groceries it takes to feed four boys for a couple weeks, feed Brody lunch and get him to nap.  SCORE!  It’s two hours of quiet to finish folding laundry and crank out a few pages on the new manuscript.  WRONG. Brody declines his nap.

Alright, it’s part of parenting, so no writing for mama. But there is: SNOWBLOWING!  Yay.  Boys get home, and Chase is in tears because some kid pushed his head into the school bus window TWICE.

So after hearing from the Principal that the issue was taken care of, I simmer down.  Kind of.  Sorry, nothing gets me hotter than someone bullying my kids.  I AM the mother they warned you about.  So the boys head out to play, but they’re back in five minutes with two of their friends from down the street.  Now there are six boys in this house, and I’m trying to fold 4 loads of laundry.  Then I realize the cake pan I need for tomorrow isn’t here, because when I ordered it on Amazon, I accidentally clicked the Debit Card that I cancelled because someone stole it and bought porn on it.  Porn, come on people… who buys porn?  So Amazon sent the “Hey, your card doesn’t work” email to Jason’s email, and they don’t have internet at JRTC, which means I never got it.  No email = no cake pan.
 So when the kids are all, “hey, we want yada, yada, yada, yada,” all I’m thinking is: 

But then the neighborhood boys keep coming.  Seven.  Eight.  NINE… And they’re all screaming.

Shrieking, running through the house, tracking mud through the kitchen I just mopped, and they’re just EVERYWHERE, just generally:

And All I really want to do is:

But then, one of the kids smacks Diesel, our English Bulldog, and I’m all:

So little man had to go home… then there were 8.  So I’m watching out of the kitchen window as they all head outside, and Aaron is just trashing people in snow left and right.  Well the smallest of the kids sneaks over and BLASTS him in the face.  Aaron stumbles in, sopping wet with pieces of slush dripping down his face, and I can’t help it; I’m all: 

 Then the sun set and the house was empty, well, except for the four boys that always live here.  So I walk into the toy room to tell them that it’s dinner time, and all four of them have shoved themselves into the glow-in-the-dark art tent that’s meant to fit one, and all I can think is:

But I can’t say that, because HELLO, they’re kids.  So I keep that thought to myself and inform them that we’re having dinner, which actually goes shockingly well, but then it’s back to the behavior that winds them ALL in bed early.  Oh yeah, mama laid the smack down.  Why?  Because if you don’t stand by your rules, they will mutiny.

Kids are in bed, and now the church-folk come over.  So the topic of my writing comes up, and one of them asks me what YA (Young Adult) is, since that’s what I write.  So I explain that it’s geared towards teens on the cusp of adulthood and I get the dreaded comment…. “Oh, so it’s like Twilight?”


 I then have the dreaded “no, it’s not like Twilight” conversation.

Which then leads to the “You should be reading these Religious books” conversation because popular literature is dark and evil and twisted and yeah… but I’m all:

So that’s how THAT went.  But the good news, is that tomorrow is another day closer to Jason being home.

Thank you God for days like these that remind me just how much I might not want to need him, but he’d be really nice to have around…

Then I’d let him snow blow and unclog toilets.

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