Wednesday, September 23, 2009


Today has been the day from H-E-Double Loser sticks. I mean it. And it's not even close to noon, yet. I'll apologize before this lengthy post-this is part therapy, part blogging. Let's begin....

Wake up the girls at 6:30 for school. We leave at 7:10 and they take their showers the night before. They eat breakfast at school, so the only responsibilities they have in the mornings are to get dressed, brush their hair and make their beds. Then we're off. Today, I walked into their bedroom about 15 minutes before time to leave and there stands Princess Rhiannon, in nothing but a shirt. Her hair is still a mess, her bed is still a mess and my eyes went red. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" This has become my new phrase of the month. I love my kids, I love being mom, but there are days....well, words can't express.

For whatever reason, that set me off and when I yelled, I woke up my young prince. The young prince sleeps through the night, which is heavenly, but he usually wakes up around 8:00, not 7:00. ARRRGGG I say in my head. Finally, after getting the young prince reasonably dressed and his carseat in the car, we get out the door. My husband's van is directly behind the car. AARRRGG I say out loud.

I did get the kids to school, right on time, and without killing anyone unnecessarily in a fit of rage. Now, I must get to the gas station because, of course the warning light is on, and I'm out of cigarettes. (Yes, I know...the cigarettes are horrible, we can save that lecture for an entirely different post, okay?) About a half mile before the four way stop, traffic is at a standstill. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I scream.

Deep breathing and counting to 10 at least a 100 times later...I arrived at the gas station, hefted the young prince out of the royal carriage, and ran to catch the door that some kind gentleman was holding for me. I smiled and nodded a thank you; the young prince just stared with his best mean face. How do you tell a 12 month old to be nice?

After sitting through the stop sign for another ten minutes (they really need to turn it into a stop LIGHT for as much traffic that goes through there!), I arrive home, again without killing anyone. Yes, I'm proud of this. When I walk through the door, young prince in tow, the state of my house immediately growls at my already thinning patience. AAAARRRRGGGGGG I yell.

The young prince wails for his breakfast, at the same time grinning and saying dank do (that's 12 month old for thank you) before I can even get the toast buttered. The dishes from last night are still piled in the sink. I burned my hand last night and didn't have the strength to burn it again doing dishes. My bed is unmade, the kitchen floor is quickly becoming filled with crumbs again, and....oh HELL. I'm tired already.

When I finally did sit down and calm my mild panic attack, I replayed the events of my day. It's not so bad, why did I freak out? Stress? Sickness?(yeah, still have a bit of the snot fog)I began to think of Audra.

Audra is my MC in a novel I'm attempting to write. Audra began as a normal, young woman who recently earned her degree. She's excited to begin her new life with financial stability; a life that bears no resemblance to the dysfunctional family she left ten years ago. Her mother was one of those people, you know? Drugs, boyfriends, abuse and too many kids. After waking up crapulous and next to the ex boyfriend she swore to never see again, she receives a phone call from her older brother informing her of her mother's dire illness. Two bad events in one day. Then, her car breaks down, the ex boyfriend incident still has her reeling and he's the only one that can pick her up. And then suddenly, everything went left. I didn't plan for her to have a younger brother show up the next day informing her that her mother was now dead. I didn't plan for that younger brother to be carrying a bunch of drugs, either. Or for the dealers of said drugs decided to break into Audra's apartment.

Whoa, I'm so glad that isn't me. However, I had stepped away from the novel for the past few days, wondering if it was really believable. I mean, who can possibly have that bad of a week?? Well, watch the news, read the paper, People magazine, Time, etc.. Then, take a look at your own life. Sure, it's mundane stuff, like no coffee in the coffeemaker(yes, that happened to me today, too, and it was quite traumatic), no milk for your cereal and the car is making a funny noise. But those days, weeks, even months really do happen. Life can be stranger than fiction.


  1. Hello! First, thank you for following my blog. Second, this post cracked me up! I can relate on so many levels it is scary (and yes, even the cigarettes!) Looking forward to catching up on your blog.

  2. I can't tell you how many times a day I yell, "You've GOT to be KIDDING me!!" I'm glad I'm not the only one!

    I think there's little in fiction that's not somewhat believable. For one, characters are suppose to be a little over the top. And real people really do have days and weeks where things are THAT bad. And sometimes reading about it makes me appreciate when the worst part of my day is the long traffic lights, lack of coffee and the dishes in the sink.


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