Post by somenewromantic on Jan 22, 2007 10:47:35 GMT -5
.........more like Monday morning beeaatching........because Mondays ALWAYS suck........unless it's a holiday........
And I'm not a morning person. There are four women and two men and this house......the men are morning people. They are outnumbered by half, and believe me when I say they usually try to keep a low profile until they've left the house.......because none of the girls in this house are fit to live with till, say, noon.
My son apparently set his alarm for 5:15 when he meant to set it for 6:15. Since I get up at 5:30, this means his alarm went off 15 minutes before mine. I heard him slap it off and the water in his shower go on, and drifted for that last 15 minutes.........
Christopher doesn't like my music--far prefers his father's--so I was shocked when, five minutes later, kinda in a holding pattern between sleep and consciousness (if that's what you want to call it at 5:30 a.m.) down the hall comes thundering the bass line and then the drum intro to PowerStation's Bang A Gong. And he's just started playing drums, so it sounded like he was beating on the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth.
My husband the morning person sits up in bed and says, "Yeah!!" I stumbled down the hall and knocked on his door to let him know it was a little much, considering the hour, and his sisters were tumbling out into the hall. MY sister (my oldest child) came out of her room beeaatching about getting my kids under control, and went to pound on Christopher's door, which started those two fighting.
And later the girls were finishing breakfast (their brother had wolfed his in about a half dozen bites and ran for the basement and his beloved drums to pound out a song or two before catching the bus). I had gone into the downstairs bathroom with my lipliner and lipstick in hand and, not seeing the lipliner needed to be sharpened, was scared stupid for the second time this morning when the stereo downstairs fired up and the bass drum got kicked into action.........and cut the shit out of my lip. And so I finished getting the girls ready with my lower lip bleeding. And my sister came downstairs, saying something about the chaos in my house in the morning, while I'm contending with a spilled bowl of cereal, a five-year-old who now needs to change clothes, and holding toilet paper to my bloody lip, which, for the fact that I only cut it with a lipliner pencil, that beeaatch sure was bleeding.
My sister wanted to know where her scrubs were ('In the dryer.') She said something about them being wrinkled, and I think at this point I lost it and told her that the last time I looked, "Misty's beeaatch" was NOT tatooed on my forehead, or anywhere else, for that matter and if she was so interested in having clean UNWRINKLED clothes, she should have come home from Sidelines, watching the football playoffs.
Down comes Bill, hearing the commotion, and looking for his clean underwear ('In the laundry basket--YOU can put them away.') And he looks at me, and does a double take--the bloody lip, which had started up again, and he looked at Misty and said, "Did you HIT her??"
I'm going to shut up now, because I have to stop jerking around and read a couple of newspapers to have something to talk about in class today. My Political Science class starts at 12:30......
And I'm not a morning person. There are four women and two men and this house......the men are morning people. They are outnumbered by half, and believe me when I say they usually try to keep a low profile until they've left the house.......because none of the girls in this house are fit to live with till, say, noon.
My son apparently set his alarm for 5:15 when he meant to set it for 6:15. Since I get up at 5:30, this means his alarm went off 15 minutes before mine. I heard him slap it off and the water in his shower go on, and drifted for that last 15 minutes.........
Christopher doesn't like my music--far prefers his father's--so I was shocked when, five minutes later, kinda in a holding pattern between sleep and consciousness (if that's what you want to call it at 5:30 a.m.) down the hall comes thundering the bass line and then the drum intro to PowerStation's Bang A Gong. And he's just started playing drums, so it sounded like he was beating on the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth.
My husband the morning person sits up in bed and says, "Yeah!!" I stumbled down the hall and knocked on his door to let him know it was a little much, considering the hour, and his sisters were tumbling out into the hall. MY sister (my oldest child) came out of her room beeaatching about getting my kids under control, and went to pound on Christopher's door, which started those two fighting.
And later the girls were finishing breakfast (their brother had wolfed his in about a half dozen bites and ran for the basement and his beloved drums to pound out a song or two before catching the bus). I had gone into the downstairs bathroom with my lipliner and lipstick in hand and, not seeing the lipliner needed to be sharpened, was scared stupid for the second time this morning when the stereo downstairs fired up and the bass drum got kicked into action.........and cut the shit out of my lip. And so I finished getting the girls ready with my lower lip bleeding. And my sister came downstairs, saying something about the chaos in my house in the morning, while I'm contending with a spilled bowl of cereal, a five-year-old who now needs to change clothes, and holding toilet paper to my bloody lip, which, for the fact that I only cut it with a lipliner pencil, that beeaatch sure was bleeding.
My sister wanted to know where her scrubs were ('In the dryer.') She said something about them being wrinkled, and I think at this point I lost it and told her that the last time I looked, "Misty's beeaatch" was NOT tatooed on my forehead, or anywhere else, for that matter and if she was so interested in having clean UNWRINKLED clothes, she should have come home from Sidelines, watching the football playoffs.
Down comes Bill, hearing the commotion, and looking for his clean underwear ('In the laundry basket--YOU can put them away.') And he looks at me, and does a double take--the bloody lip, which had started up again, and he looked at Misty and said, "Did you HIT her??"
I'm going to shut up now, because I have to stop jerking around and read a couple of newspapers to have something to talk about in class today. My Political Science class starts at 12:30......
