Functionally ReTodded

I know it’s not Groundhog Day.  It’s Ash Wednesday. But my life feels like Groundhog Day nearly every day.

(Know that this grumpalong is written while not looking at the wife I have that deals with this for fourteen hours a day as opposed to my two hours a day).

6:08am:  Alarm goes off.  I may or may not snooze, and I may or may not require the alarm.  My Kramer clock is pretty accurate.

6:10am:  Shower, shave (if it’s Monday or Thursday) and get dressed.

6:20am:  Attempt to wake up the bear (aka GBD) because Thing 3 is awake.

6:21am:  Head downstairs with Thing 3 (and sometimes Thing 2).

6:22am:  Change diaper of screaming, crying child strong enough to prevent you from doing so without the help of a partner.

6:25am:  Take Thing 3 to the kitchen to pour some milk in a bottle and let him open and close the microwave and hit start.

6:26am:  GBD or I give the lad said bottle.

6:45am:  Other children awake or awakened.

Fill the next fifteen minutes with "I know you’re hungry Fia, I’m working on it.  Lauren, get dressed and brush your hair.  Patrick, stop (insert whatever he’s doing that he shouldn’t be here).  I know you’re hungry Fia, I’m working on it.  Lauren, get dressed and brush your hair.  Patrick, stop (insert whatever he’s doing that he shouldn’t be here).  I know you’re hungry Fia, I’m working on it.  Lauren, get dressed and brush your hair.  Patrick, stop (insert whatever he’s doing that he shouldn’t be here)."  And one of us makes coffees.

7:00am:  I head downstairs to get my iPod, Blackberry, check my e-mail.

7:10am:  Confirm that Thing 1 is dressed and fed, Thing 2 is fed and Thing 3 is not doing what he should be, which is every and anything he is doing.

7:15am:  Checklist with the kids (two of them anyway, since one can’t or won’t talk) -

• computer?  Check
• phone?  Check
• book?  Check
• iPod?  Check
• wallet?  Check
• coffee?  Check
• keys?  Check

And off to work.

Inevitably, sometime during the day, I get a message like this from the wife.  Here I will attempt to recreate one I received yesterday.

"Patrick just dumped out all of the diapers, emptied the entire bag of wipes, dumped out the toy bins in the playroom, poured a bag of cheddar Chex mix all over the foyer,then emptied the dishwasher including putting all the dirty silverware back in the drawer, and now he’s eating a magic marker.  GAH!!"

5:45pm:  Come home to said mess.  Start cleaning with GBD.

Fill this time with "Girls! Stop fighting!  It’s a used paper towel roll!  So honey, hold a sec.  Patrick!  Get off the desk!  Patrick! get off the kitchen table!  Patrick!  Stop eating mommy’s wireless mouse!  I was saying, how was your day?  Hold on.  Girls! knock it off!  Patrick!  Stop climbing on the desk!  Fia! I will not hold you!  Lauren, no you can NOT go to (insert any child in the neighborhood’s name)’s house.  Mine was fine.  I had a…one sec babe.  Patrick!  Bring daddy the remote!  Fia! Put your clothes back on!  Lauren!  Yes you have to wear underwear tomorrow.  Patrick!  Get out of the menu drawer!  Girls! Stop fighting! That’s Patrick’s toy anyway.  Nevermind babe.  We’ll talk later."

6:00pm:  Have the "What do you guys want for dinner?" discussion, and the answers are always Dora spaghetti O’s, hot dogs, pancakes, spaghetti or Easy Mac.

Since Thing 3 is contained in his seat for a while, we fill this time with rapid cleaning and dishwasher filling and / or emptying.

6:15pm:  More me plus GBD cleaning (only to have it undone within 15 minutes by Thing 3).

6:30pm:  bottle and pajamas for  the boy.

6:45pm:  Boy up to bed, and then we begin the "Girls, it’s time to get ready for bed.  Let’s get on our jammies and brush our teeth.  Ladies.  Beddy bye time.  Jammie up peeps.  I’m not saying it again kids.  Put.  On. Your.  PJs.  Lauren!  Fia!  Put on your pajamas!  NOW!!"

7:00pm:  Sigh deeply and then we both proceed to put pajamas on the girls.

7:15pm:  Alright girls…bedtime.

Fill the next fifteen minutes with "Awwww.   Daddeeeeeeeeee!  I’m watching this!  Just five more minutes!  Please!!  But I’m thirsty.  I’m hungry.  I don’t feel good.  I’m not tired.  Please can I just play five more minutes please please please please."

7:30pm:  Trudge up the stairs and then one of us reads a story to both girls and puts them to bed.

7:45pm:  More cleaning, then "So babe, whaddya want for dinner?"

7:46pm:  I dunno.  I’m gonna start with a scotch & water with a side of Lortab.

And yes.  This is every god damned day.

Love you babe.  Don’t know how you do it.  And yes, I’ll pick up some diapers, wipes and the zoloft.