Year of writing 180. Recap week 7.

6/29/12

Today for my weekly rundown of stayathome daditude, I will simply say I was doing too much.  When I was teaching in East Oakland, kids constantly told me I was "doin too much," usually after I told them to stop doing something, or after I assigned an essay.  "Awwww, Mr. G you doin' too much."  At the time I was most certainly not doin' too much.  Now, however, I am.  Here's the breakdown.  I won't even go into the rest of the week, just my Friday.

6:45 AM  Wake up, make one strawberry waffle and one blueberry waffle for Isla, she decides she wants cereal.  While pouring cereal, she eats waffles and is no longer hungry,  Feed Miles his baby yogurt, drink a sip of coffee, and go to grab cereal meant for Isla, only to find cats, both of them, drinking the milk from around my honey smacks.  Don't eat.  Change Miles, who by now has a 14 pound diaper.  Forget to put diaper in diaper pail.  Dogs eat diaper all over hallway.

7:45 AM    Drive to DAD's house with the kids, to take him to get his truck smogged.  Isla is hungry.  Give her a sticky mint from the drink holder.  Stop to get coffee because the one sip from the morning isn't cutting it, headache looms.  Grab coffee cup too hard while opening car door, thumb puncturing the styrofoam cup, coffee all over self.

8:30 AM      Drop off Isla at farm.  Yell to whoever is listening that there is a child there, please watch her.

8:45   AM  attempt to install toilet in bathroom.  Mildly successful.  Attempt to give Miles a nap.  Unsuccessful.

9:45 AM  second attempt at nap for miles.  45 minutes of lullabyes, rocking, patting, back rubbing.  payoff of 15 minutes for the nap.

10:45 AM  Isla returns with Cousin Zia.  Barbie explosion.

11:30 AM Begin work on clogged drain in guest bathroom shower.  Realize it is clogged with 7 years of unknown people's bodily fluids trapped in Lime like some kind of archaeologists nightmare.  Chip away at it with an old coathanger. Jury rig a hose with a rag & plastic bag and blast that shit back to whatever unholy planet it came from.  Feel disgusting and triumphant simultaneously.

12:00 PM  Go get a burrito.  Order extra salsa plus one Habanero salsa.  Forget which was which and douse the first bite with entire cup of Habanero.  Drink whole  Horchata in 12 seconds, lick grass, google "get habanero off tongue" Find this:  http://www.wikihow.com/Cool-Burns-from-Chili-Peppers.  Drink milk, sugar water, a shot of vodka, a shot of vegetable oil, and lemon juice in that order.  Lament the next bowel movement.


1:30 PM  Attempt to remove faucet from kitchen.  Rusted in.  Attempt to break rust with hammer, screwdriver, blowtorch, atomic bomb.  All ineffectual.  Cry into sleeve. Call stepfather.
2:00   Stepfather arrives with saw.  Saws the shit out of the old faucet.  Feel inadequate and grateful.  Resolve to use saw to solve next problem.  Miles needs a nap.  Break resolution.

2:30  Play beauty shop with Cousins.  Isla insists on being called penelope while she is getting her makeup done.  I will be princess fairy ponytail man (the man being tagged on as she must have noticed the emasculation oozing from my glands).

3:00  Install new faucet in kitchen, by myself.  Feel amazing.  Realize that in the mean time Miles has had a diaper blowout and now is dragging bright orange feces across the carpet in a snail trail of horrendous proportions.  Snatch him up in time for him to grab a handful of the noxious substance leaking from his backside and smear it all over my shirt and neck.  Resist urge to retch all over him.  Clean up 1.5 miles of poop path on the living room carpet.  Pray Tegan does not have to work late.

4:30 Tegan calls and says she will be late.  Consider buying cage for children so I can nap. Decide on buddhist mindstate to let whatever happens next happen.  Everything is cool.

6:15.  Tegan arrives. Sigh.