I’ve been up for only an hour, and my idea for a post today has changed three times. My morning started out with peace and tranquility. I enjoyed looking out over my garden and sipping my coffee to the sound of bird chirps. I was thinking,” This is the best part of summer break: peaceful mornings, unlimited coffee refills, watching the birds come to the bath and feeder, and quiet contemplation.” Ahhhh!Then the family woke up, and all heck broke loose! There was a line to get in the bathroom – two teenagers with somewhere to go and not enough sinks and mirrors.
My husband padded sleepily to the kitchen and fried turkey bacon for his breakfast. He set aside three pieces to wrap in a tortilla for his lunch (low carb diet).
My oldest has been staying up late, then trying to get up with just enough time to throw on some clothes and get to work. He didn’t figure in time to pack a lunch and fill his cooler, so he swooped into the kitchen, threw multiple items from the pantry into a ziplock, meanwhile snatching the convenient fried turkey bacon “leftovers” for his hand- to- mouth breakfast.
“Mom, my lunch is pitiful. When are you going to the grocery?” he bellowed. “I just went to the grocery. What is it that you need?” I said. “I need something to drink – getting tired of water,” replied my angel. “I have drink mixes to add to water. You want me to make you some for your cooler?” I asked. “Yeah,” he answered under his breath, “When you’re finished, can you cut the sleeves off of this T-shirt for me?” “You want me to do what?” I asked quizzically.
I set to work mixing the cherry limeade, and in my haste, inhaled some of the powder and start coughing my head off. Meanwhile, the pitcher in the sink started to spill over. I turned off the spigot, poured the mixture into his cooler, and it overflowed pungent, red liquid all over our “beautiful” light blue countertops. “Where’s the bleach?”
My husband discovered that his work shirt had sat in the dryer overnight and needed to be ironed (in a jiffy, of course!) I left the kitchen and tended to that “pressing” need. Eric went back to the kitchen. “Who ate my lunch?” he hollered. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out the package of turkey bacon and began to fry some more. From the adjoining room I heard grumbling. This time, he burned the meat strips, filling the entire house with a smoke cloud.
My daughter announced , “The smell of bacon makes me sick. I’m going outside.” I opened up a window and set a fan in front of it, to try to clear out the smoke. My husband grabbed his work shirt.
In the meantime, the oldest left for work, and my daughter reentered the house with her shirt pulled over her nose. She then decided that she needed to paint her nails purple before heading off to the summer enrichment program at her new high school. “Ugh!” sighed my husband at her poor timing!
Nails still damp, she raced down the driveway to get in the car with dad. “I love you both. Have a good day!” I called from the doorway with a smile on my face.
I came back inside to the six-year-old. “Mom, I’m hungry. Can you make me some turkey bacon? Can you build Lego with me? Can you tun on Nick Jr.?” “We’re all out of turkey bacon,” I reported while peering into the refrigerator. AHHHHHH! And the day has just begun – life under the big top. It’s a three-ring circus, but it’s my circus!