Day 15: Bedtime shenanigans

Never am I disappointed with our bedtime routine. Sure some nights are better than others, like when your mom's visiting from out of town and you're all, I've got this great idea where GRANDMA gets to read you a STORY! while my feet are up, beer's in one hand as the other's fondling the remote to find out if Jersey Shore, Intervention, or Real Houswives (of ANYWHERE but Atlanta) is on. Instead only, The Little Couple with 19 Kids and Counting Kate Plus 8 is Enough...what? is on. Jesus TLC, what show won't you do?

Tonight's funny was delivered by Egan. Once snuggled into bed, I asked him if he remembered to pee. I could see him running through the whole night in his head, considering how full his bladder really is and could he make it til morning. After pensively looking up at the ceiling, he said, "Nope. But I will right now."

Just as he was scampering out, he stops dead center in the middle of the room and turns toward his bed, all admiring like.

Egan: Don't you just love my bed?
Me: Of course I do, don't you?
Egan: Mmm-hmmmm...

[He disapprovingly shifts his glance to Gil's bed where I'm lying, waiting for Gil to return from wherever so we can READ ALREADY - the bedtime routine? IT DRAGS ON AND ON AND ON AND ON...]

All bershon, Egan points at Gil's eternally disheveled bed: Why is Gil's bed always so crumbly?

And they don't even drink coffee

As the boys are dining over chocolate Cheerios

Gil to me: What's your favorite home improvement show?
Me: I don't really have one. I'm not so into home improvement. What's yours? (as in, enlighten me, young fella)
Gil: Mine's The Martha Stewart Show
Me: How do you know her?
Gil: She's packing up her show and moving to another channel.
Egan: [oh so matter of factly] To Los Angeles.

Zoloft

For about half a year I've been numbed by the fantastic combination of unscrewing a prescription bottle and sertraline hydrochloride. I denied the idea that I couldn't feel. Tears still flooded my eyes when prompted, my patience was certainly tested, and I continued to analyze the world around me no problem. I appreciated the lack of reaction elicited by my children, and the divorce process, that would otherwise send me into a tailspin of a tizzy. But now I'm feeling like my old self packaged in a newly divorced, single, mom sorta way. That's what's in me. It's me. And I like it, you guys. I really like it.

A memory from the Magic Kingdom

Spring break was spent in Anaheim, California californicating with various Disney characters and riding the dozens of memorable rides between California Adventure and Disneyland, all while melting in 90 degree heat. My kids were beSIDE themselves. Especially Egan as he observed Mary Poppins and Burt, Mickey, Minnie, Goofy, Buzz Lightyear, Woody...THEN, the creme de la creme was when PINNOCHIO! ASKED! ME! TO! DANCE!! You know, at the end-of-the-day CELEBRATE YOU! parade.

Earlier that day we had been treated to the front of the line at the Matterhorn, a coupon for a front of the line pass on ANY RIDE! in ALL OF THE MAGIC KINGDOM!, and a receipt for the sword Egan carelessly lost while on Mr Toad's Wild Ride. Wild indeed, all sword losing and stuff. Apparently the employees at Disneyland are there to not only make our day magical but also spoil us rotten. As Egan and I climbed out of our car from the ride, Egan began sobbing when realizing he had lost his sword.

Appearing swiftly at my side was Jen, the superfriendly, superconcerned employee. I explained that Egan had lost his sword while on the ride. Jen insisted on having the ride STOPPED! so she could go through and recover Egan's damned $5-shoulda-been-$.50 sword. She explained various scenarios for getting the sword, saying stuff about it only taking 7 minutes despite all those people still waiting in the 20 minute line. After Jen assured me they stop rides all the time, I thanked her for her efforts while declining the need to force all these people waiting in line FOR A FUCKING SWORD.

Just then, Allie walks toward Egan arm outstretched, "Egan, you can have my sword."

I think that's what sold Jen on how remarkably awesome we all were. Flash forward to our celebrity treatment AND Honorary Citizens of Disneyland buttons. The way my kids reacted, you would have thought we were handed a key to the city.

That's not appropriate

While schlepping kids here and there yesterday, I overheard a conversation between Gil and Egan from the backseat.

Egan: [referring to his new Valentine's Barbie he pleaded for at the grocery store the other night] She's hot.

Gil: Egan you can't say Barbie is hot. That's not appropriate.

Being a good parent is exhausting...Any other ideas?

The greatest thought provoking 10-15 minutes of my life occurs in the shower. This morning I welcomed the steaming waterfall just after shouting at my two big kids to SHUT! UP! as they contiuously bickered about everything from Allie demanding bossily that The Prince of Being Easily Distracted Gil needs to HURRRRRRRYYYY UUUUUUUUP to Gil shouting at Allie WHAT THE HECK, AL?! That's Gil's generic response to anything Allie does to piss him off.

All of this while Egan flitters about with angel wings and a halo, sweetly saying, "I'm behaving, right Mom?"

Here's my deal: I don't know what to do with them anymore! The other night at book club I identified with a friend who described "walking on eggshells" in certain relationships. Only the person I find myself trying to keep from blowing up is my eight-year-old Gilmore.

Far be it from me to not teach my kids how life doesn't always go the way they want; people don't always do everything you want them to. It's my job to guide these ingrates, modeling coping skills and encouragement. I get that.

I give Gil a hard time but it's not just Gil. It's Allie too. Actually, it's the deadly combination of the two of them together. You know, like gasoline to a fire...TO A CAR!

Please, you guys. Help me figure out ways to combat this anarchy!

Hi Gene!

I take my job very seriously. Case in point: Hygiene has been the Word of the YEAR in our house. Since, like, 2009. I have two pre-pubescent kids I'm working with here. As Mother and Parent, it is part of my job description to outline personal hygienic expectations. And their father gets more uncomfortable than they do about said topic.

What's HY-GIENE Gil asks at the breakfast table this morning. As if I haven't already explained the definition twenty times since last Wednesday.

Allie shouts, I SHOWERED THIS MORNING!

Egan's voice from the living room, "Who's Gene?"

Do they need a wheel?

It's funny what I find myself daydreaming about throughout the day. The most common thought is What am I Going to Make for Dinner. What's even more amusing is the energy I have while contemplating my choices. Do I actually want to cook? Because by the time I finish my schlepping to this kid activity or that, all I want to do is sit on my Big Comfy Couch, read the paper, and drink a beer.

That's when the image of the kids being in a hamster cage lined with wood shavings, an affixed water bottle, and a bowl of feed pellets in the corner, takes over.

Relief

Such the relief is sending one's kids off to school for the very first day of a new school year. Welcome Cliche Fest '09. Every parent-friend of mine on facebook documents the same milestone with photos and status updates, commemorating another summer over and a new year for students everywhere.

SAHMs or Ds, whatever the case may be, feel they can finally tackle the long awaited list of Shit To Get Done Once The Kids Go To School. Me? I call your bluff. Many of you are probably still sitting in your pjs with your Us Weekly on your lap only midway through your pot of coffee. Or maybe its whatever trashy cable program suits your fancy. One you dare never watch when the kids are in the house.

My mornings as of late involve combing over divorce petition and stipulation details. I too am embarking on a new year. Jon and I have finally decided to end the marriage we started ten years ago. Never fear, though. We are ridiculously amicable and looking forward to our continued partnership in parenting, albeit individually. But together. We are still a family. A nontraditional one at that. No need for apologies or heartache. Because, although it was a difficult to decision, we know it's right for our kids and us.

Gotta go. E! News is on.