Waltz In Exile


Synecdoche

I know, I know: I totally suck. I’m worse than Trannyhead; she’s at least growing another human being and has some excuse. Also, she included hawt seasonal Sumo pictures. I’m not even going to have any cute goat photos to distract you with, because I can’t find my camera.

I’ve neglected my blog. I’ve neglected YOUR blogs. My feed reader shows triple digit “new” posts. And when I tried to catch up a little bit today, the first thing I read was Steph’s great post about connecting with people via teh interwebz and I felt so effing bad I couldn’t continue. Also, fadkog and Auds have posted about thirty gajillion times since the last time I managed and now I’m overwhelmed with how far behind I’ve fallen and can’t write a word.

Except to string together some post about not posting (anti-meta-blogging?) in attempts to mollify any of you who haven’t yet abandoned me completely (and who could blame you). I’m not even going to exploit Goat #1’s recent trip to Riley Children’s Hospital’s Emergency Room to explain my absence. Even though he went IN A HELICOPTER.*

Here, in a (macadamia) nutshell, is my excuse. I call it “A Night in the Life”**:

5:30. Leave work
5:45-6:00 Pick up kids, listen to Goat #1 repeatedly insist he has done all of his homework
6:00-6:45 Let puppy Incontinent Omnivore out (making sure she doesn’t detour from path to door to either root in the trash or piddle on the floor), make dinner, check Goat #1’s folder, find assignment sheets detailing homework, one part of which is semi-completed, put laundry into washer while mentally composing hysterical and award-winning blog post about second graders who fib about homework
6:45-7:00 attempt to have dinner as family (except that until the kids are done eating it’s really more like mommy calisthenics as I fetch needed items), mentally compose hysterical and award-winning blog post about working mother fitness routines that wear a tread in the floor between the table and the refrigerator
7:00-7:15 attempt to eat own dinner, while repeating “there will be no dessert until you finish your broccoli, do your homework, and take your bath” until Goat #2 cries that she DID eat her broccoli and she doesn’t HAVE any homework, and WHY OH WHY CRUEL WORLD can she not have a cupcake YET, while basking in the revelation that of COURSE you have PLENTY to write hysterical and award-winning blog posts about, just listen to the drama princess’ soliloquy!
7:15-7:20 give up on eating own dinner, get Goat #2 a cupcake, tell Goat #1 to do his homework while he eats his broccoli, listen to him grumble about how UNFAIR it is that Goat #2 has a cupcake and he does not, consider pitching “How to raise goats without losing your mind” column to the first agent to call after your hysterical blog wins its first award
7:20-7:22 attempt to take IO for a walk in order to escape the chaos (give up when you realize she has eaten harness number 5), instead mentally compose MasterCard “priceless” commercial about the cost of having an Incontinent Omnivore for a pet
7:22-8:00 wash Goat #2’s hair, put lotion on her dry skin, get her in her jammies, and dry her hair while continuing to tell Goat #1 to just do his damn homework already, get excited to take a picture of Goat #2’s hair for the potentially hysterical and not-yet-nominated-for-any-awards blog (to show how long it is again) until I realize I cannot find the camera (haven’t seen it since I took the photo of the IO when she joined the family, actually, which makes me wonder if she ate it.  I wouldn’t put it past her.  I CAN’T put it past her, nor anything else; it ends up in her mouth.)
8:00-8:01 threaten son’s life and dessert if he does not get his homework finished by 8:30
8:01-8:20 do dishes with ambient grumbling of homework doer accompanying the clanging of kitchen cleaning
8:20-8:30 praise Goat #1 for buckling down and finishing homework, give him dessert and tell him that at 8:30 he MUST be in the bathtub, move laundry from washer to dryer
8:30 realize that he has not eaten even one bite of dessert because he’s playing his new DSi
8:30-8:30:59 count to self until temper is under control, then tell son you are taking his dessert away in one minute if he’s not in the tub
8:31-8:40 Marvel that son did not choke on cupcake he stuffed defiantly WHOLE into his mouth; tell him seven times to hurry up and wash his hair as I walk through the downstairs bent over at the waist, picking up toys, socks, shoes, eggshells (apparently IO DID get in the trash when I wasn’t looking)…
8:40-9:00 Read stories with Goat #2 and tuck her in, reminding her that “the rule” is to stay in bed; briefly consider writing a hysterical and award-winning blog post about how you can teach a four year old to answer the “what’s the rule?” question correctly without “the rule” ever taking on ANY MEANING WHATSOEVER
9:00 return downstairs to check dryer, discover son with completely dry head sitting on couch watching tv and eating ice cream
9:00:01-9:05:00 Completely lose shit so that son scurries back to bathroom, dog starts to howl outside, and Goat #2 comes down to “see what’s up, Mama?”
9:05-9:10 Tuck Goat #2 back in, lock self in upstairs bathroom and throw one woman pity party in own honor, think briefly about writing a “What Not To Do” child-rearing book, but never even sketch it out completely because I’m so distracted by the idea that there is Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream downstairs going to waste, and I’m sort of hungry still.
9:10 Return downstairs to find Goat #1 with wet hair back on couch, with the nerve to say he can’t go to bed yet because he still has homework
9:11 Consider running away; enjoy this fantasy until Goat #2 reappears to say she’s hungry, Mama
9:18 Roar (literally) until everyone runs for their rooms, including the IO
9:19 sit on living room floor and cry for 5 minutes until I realize no one has brushed their teeth yet
9:24-9:30 Supervise brushing of teeth and repeat “you can finish it in the morning” every time foam-filled mouth of second grader tells you his homework isn’t done yet
9:30 Realize the show I wanted to watch has been over for thirty minutes; cry some more, because even though I have TiVo, I also have a seven year old who has mastered the “prioritize recordings” function and I have not.  An idea for a hysterical and award-winning blog post about the uber-ultra-tech savvy next generation skitters across my mind, but my blood sugar is too slow for the synapses to fire properly.
9:30:01-9:45 Fold laundry while crying (isn’t going to fold itself), but daydream while folding that James McAvoy is struggling to reach me, just like at the end of August Rush when everything is coming together, and any second he’s going to come through the back door and take me in his arms….
9:45 Laugh like a loon at self because I apparently cannot tell the difference between James McAvoy and Jonathan Rhys-Davies.
9:46-9:50 point at stairs and say “back to bed” until second grader cries that he just wanted to tell you something and he HATES you
9:50-10:00 get clothes and lunches together for morning while daydreaming that Brad Pitt will come take me away from this drudgery SOON
10:00-10:01 realize that Mr. Pitt has six children of his own and immediately jettison that daydream for nameless faceless childless man. Perhaps Mr. McAvoy has no spawn. Mmmmm. Yessssss. James!  I’m here, James!  I’m ready!
10:02 wonder if  shrink will prescribe  Xanax over the phone
10:03 let IO out one more time, and sit down on couch to veg for a second
10:10 wake up to four year old asking for a snack because she can’t sleep, she’s STARVING, Mama.
10:15 return downstairs from re-re-re-re-tucking in daughter, and realize I am hungry. Probably because my dinner was interrupted.
10:15:10 Cry because Goat #1’s ice cream melted 30 minutes ago
10:15:10-10:16 start to fix snack, realize IO is scratching at back door to come in
10:16-10:25 chase dog all over house because she has no harness to grab hold of; hear own mind snap as she jets into Goat #1’s room and pounces on his finally sleeping self.
10:25-10:26 carry dog to crate, thinking all the while that either she needs to be eating less or I need to kick my weight training up a notch
10:26-10:30 tell son four times that you’re sorry the dog woke him up but NO he cannot watch a movie now. Nor have a snack.
10:30-10:31:30 listen to son howl about what a horrible mother you are until he passes out mid-cry
10:31:30-10:35 sit quietly on couch and try to remember what else I have to do before bed
10:35-10:50 Realize that I’m actually asleep and James McAvoy has not really come to rescue me; decide to go with the dream anyway because I’m going to need something to keep me going tomorrow, and with any luck Jonathan Rhys-Davies will also make an appearance in fantasticfantasydreamland before 4:45 am when the IO starts whining to go out.

—————–
*He’s fine. I’ll go into it more later, I promise. But I haven’t even told my family yet, so I probably ought not blog about it. EVEN THOUGH I COULD TOTALLY USE THE SYMPATHY READERS AND COMMENTS.***

**OMQF how I wish it were only A night.

***Hint, hint.

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13 Comments so far
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Duuuuude. My post wasn’t designed to make anyone feel bad! Mostly, I was thinking out loud about how effed my own priorities are.

Plus, I get that there are people who don’t spend their lives online because they have other stuff to do. Not that I can relate to that in any way, but I am aware that it happens. So. I would not abandon you. Ever.

I did, however, consider e-mailing you to make sure you were alive. Then I decided that you were probably alive and that YET ONE MORE FRICKING E-MAIL might be the one that pushed you over the edge into COMPLETE OVERLOAD and decided to hold off.

I squee’d a little when I opened my Reader and saw you had posted something new.

/random gushing

Comment by Steph

You are brilliant, and so was the blog post. Trust me, I’m just so in the bell jar right now that everything is a projection screen for my own insecurities/shortcomings/whathaveyou.

Comment by waltzinexile

Whenever life explodes and interrupts my blogging time, I always think things like, “The blog is supposed to improve my life, not impede it.” If that helps relieve the guilt.

Have you considered drugging their dinners? Locking the Ben and Jerry’s in a safe? Drugging yourself and locking yourself in a safe?

Comment by aliasmother

That really does help relieve some guilt. Would probably help a LOT if I felt like I were actually living during all the radio silence, as opposed to just barely surviving.

Then again, I hadn’t thought of drugs and safes. So perhaps my attitude is about to change 🙂

Comment by waltzinexile

Oh how I wish you lived next door to me so when I’m crying at 10:05, I could have you over and we could cry together. Your night is so my night, it’s not even funny. And since my eyes are so bad, I can’t even find the **** Hint, hint. Of course, I’m not going to make the mistake of thinking you’re pregnant again. No siree. I won’t think that again. Uh-uh. But seriously, where is the ****?

Comment by smalltownsmalltimes

Wait. I have a **** somewhere and I didn’t resolve it?? Good grief, it’s a lot like pregnancy brain!

Comment by waltzinexile

If it helps any, none of my blog posts were all that earth-shattering. Also, I think in order to tell the difference between J R-M and JM, the lack of shirts is required. Finally, I know these kinds of nights so very well. I think it shocks my kids to realize how quickly I can twist my personality!

Comment by foradifferentkindofgirl (fadkog)

I’d just like to let you know that when my boss asks why I didn’t get anything done this afternoon, I’m going to blame you for distracting me with shirtless Mr. McAvoy.? So I’m going to need you to send pictures to back me up, is what I’m sayin’.

Comment by waltzinexile

I came over to tell you that you made my day with your ultra-nice comment on my blog (I’m very fragile due to sickness this week, and kind words heal me), and then I read this and laugh so loudly here at the cafe in the Barnes & Noble that all the patrons think I’m insane…especially, I laughed at your 9:46-9:50 p.m. when your son had to announce he hated you…

And anyhow, how can you wish you wrote like me when I just want to write like you–and, plus, we live the same life because you pretty much summarized my evenings here, too.

I’m all a’lovin’ you.

Comment by Jocelyn

I just want you to know, professor, that this comment here?? Put strings in my panels. (For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about — go here: http://omightycrisis.blogspot.com/2009/10/misadventures-for-pyramid-man-and-for.html You will NOT be sorry.)

Comment by waltzinexile

What the hell does “Synedoche” mean? Seriously. The names of your posts make my head hurt.

Comment by Bejewell

Beej, you’re killing me.? You used to like them!?

Synecdoche: a figure of speech in which a part is used for the whole or the whole for a part, the special for the general or the general for the special, as in ten sail for ten ships or a Croesus for a rich man.

Comment by waltzinexile

Ok – being my best friend and all, as hard as I laughed at this, you must warn me not to read posts that may change my mind on the whole having kids one day thing. Since the father of my one-day children wants to have SIX!

Comment by Heather




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