Monday, January 10

10:30 am
Starbucks

Monday morning.  Beginning of another week of school and work and tour break.

Absolute fucking chaos.

I forgot what an undertaking it is to get four kids out the door for school.  Actually, I'm not sure I ever had a real appreciation of what it takes -- Romey wasn't in school yet when we all lived together last, and all the kids went to the same school.  Now it's all kinds of complicated.  Holy Christ--no wonder Dorothea needs to get away from them for awhile.

Getting Jess out of bed is no easy feat.  He has that teenage boy sleep pattern that makes him wanna stay in bed 'til noon.  I ended up spraying him with water after the first three times I yelled at him didn't get a response.  Then he was all sullen and moody at the breakfast table.  Jesus.

Steph was the opposite; she was up bright and early but had some sort of wardrobe crisis and all of a sudden didn't like the sweater she brought and wanted to go back to Dorothea's and change.  I told her she looked fine and we didn't have time to drive all the way back to D's just for a shirt.  The whining was unbelievable.  Cate ended up coming to the rescue, offering to let Steph raid her closet.  Steph ended up with one of Cate's tops AND a scarf, shoes, and earrings.  Her Diva-ness was a little unsettling--hope she's not like that all the time.  But she's a girl, so who the Hell knows.

Jake and Romeo were off in their own little spacey worlds as usual.  I'd tell one of them something and I'm just get this blank look or be outright ignored.  Breakfast went something like this:  "Jake, eat your cereal."  He'd stare off into space.  "Jake, eat your cereal."  "Hey Dad, do you like Star Wars?"  "Yeah.  Jake, eat your cereal."  He gets off his chair and wanders into the living room.  "Jake!  Get back here and eat your cereal!"  Back he comes, but detours to his backpack and pulls out some kinda action figure.  "Jesus Christ!  JAKE!  Sit down and eat your Goddamned CEREAL!"

Then Romeo very matter-of-factly states that he doesn't like Santa Claus anymore because Santa didn't bring him a ferret for Christmas.  WTF?  Whatever, buddy.  Bring that one up with your mother.

I swear, it's amazing they can walk and breathe air at the same time.

Then Cate left me all alone with the four of them.  She came out in her Special Agent suit with her laptop and her briefcase and went over and fixed her coffee-to-go and just smirked.  I must have looked like I was about to come unhinged, because she kinda snorted and tried to cover her giggle.  But I know she was laughing at me.  I walked her to the door and kissed her goodbye and told her to have a good day and to call me.  What does my wife do?  She grins and says "Good Luck."

Apparently she thought I needed it.

Finally got everybody into the car and took the teenagers to their school first.  Steph was out of the car like a shot with barely a "Bye Daddy," and Jess didn't say anything at all.  Just kinda grunted and climbed out and slouched his way up the steps to the school.  Fine.

Then I took the Chucklehead Brothers to their school and walked them in to their classrooms.  Of course I had to run the Soccer Mom gauntlet and had to try to pretend to be nice and charming while they all leered at my ass.  Never mind I hadn't showered and was wearing sweatpants and running shoes and a fucking parka and I hadn't shaved or combed my hair.  Nope, apparently rock stars are sexy even when they're disgusting.

Finally I escaped and came back home and got on the treadmill.  A good, hard run and I felt better.  Got off the mill to find a sweet text from Cate; apparently she's having a better day today than she did last week, though she's taking her share of shit about the Eagles losing.  She said she just wanted to be sure I survived the morning and that the kids hadn't mounted a coup and tied me up and stuffed me in the closet or something.  I sent her back a vaguely naughty reply, suggesting maybe tonight she could "mount" and I could "stuff" something else.  Just got a smirk back in response.

Showered, shaved, checked email, looked at the schedule for the week, and decided I needed to get the hell out of the house.  So I came down the block for a cup of coffee, to just sit and people-watch and scribble in my book for awhile while before I go back and start tackling business stuff again.

I Don't Like Mondays.  Sir Bob was absolutely right.

8:20 pm
Kitchen, Cleaning Up

Ya know, I love my kids dearly but there's something to be said for them GOING HOME.

After all, it's pretty fucking nice for Cate and I to have the house all to ourselves.  To come home to peace and quiet and each other.  To have a cocktail and listen to Frank and Dean without them being drowned out by screaming and yelling and SuperMario music.  To be able to decide to cook dinner together.

And to be able to burn dinner because we're too busy screwing on the kitchen table.

That's why we have takeout menus on the fridge.

Heh heh.