Friday, August 21, 2009

Realities of Life are so often Satirical

This is what I envisioned my day to be like.
But alas...
I wake at 6:30 am.

No time to shower.

Slip on a dress and some shoes.

Make sure Arri and Ana are ready for school.

Drop them off.

Come home.


Sasha tells me there is a butterfly on Zaphron's makeshift flytrap (he made this fly trap yesterday, with supplies he coerced Grandmother Beatrice to buy while at Lowes on Tuesday).

I don't believe her. I think it's a moth.

I go to look.

It's not a moth.

It really is a butterfly.

A Monarch butterfly no less.

The poor thing is not dead, but its wing is stuck to the sticky-glue and is trying desperately to unloose itself.

Zaphron is still asleep.

Sasha and I scream for him to wake up and come down. We scream that it is an emergency.

Still asleep, he comes down.

I'm hoping for the best.

He peels the Monarch's wing off the sticky-tape like a professional. (He has had much experience with Monarch butterflies at his school (a whole season of studying, tracking, and whatnot, with researchers from Mexico).

I ask him if there isn't anything that we have that can remove the stickiness from it's wing, like a q-tip with some rubbing alcohol, perhaps.

He says yes and goes upstairs, sleepily, with the butterfly.

A few moments later he comes to me and says, "What are you thinking telling me to use alcohol? Do you know what you're saying?"

I said, "I know, I just realized what could happen." I had, in fact, just realized how foolish an idea that was, and I felt quite relieved to find out he did not take my advise.

After 15 minutes of confusion, he sets it free, still-sticky wing and all, and we pray it somehow makes it.


Since Zaphron was up until 4 am watching things on YouTube, he takes his tired body back to sleep.

I make myself a Coke on the rocks, to calm my nerves. The first thing I've ingested all day.


The moment I set myself comfortably on a couch, the phone rings.

It's the school nurse.

I need to bring a change of clothes.

Arri didn't make it on time.


I must interject here that my sister's wedding was this past Sunday. Family functions and entertaining and accommodating have all been priority these past two weeks (yes, my lovely blog was left to take care of itself this whole time; sad but true). At any rate, it had been a while since our laundry had been taken care of due to other duties and lack of time. Last night would have been my first chance to get it taken care of, but, like a fool, I opted for sleep over a midnight laundry suaree.


So, as for the change of clothes, there are no extra underwear, socks, or shorts. (Pants are still in storage. He's grown so much I doubt I have any pairs that fit him anyway.)

My only option: grab Zaphron's shorts, a pair of underwear I find in an odd spot (doesn't smell bad thank gawd) and a shirt without stains (I believe it may have been the one he wore on Monday, the first day of School).


I leave with Sasha and we head for school.

Arri is waiting in the nurses office. Drenched. Even his shoes. Yes, even his shoes; the only pair he has because his feet recently sprouted, and with relatives in town the last thing you think of is anyone needing an extra pair of shoes due to the fact that they peed themselves at school while pouring milk into their cereal.

We go into the bathroom.

I place soaked clothes in a bag, used wipes to wash him off belly button to under-foot.

He needs to pee again.

I finally get him dressed.

Now Sasha has to poop.

While she goes about her business, I step out to speak with the nurse about the shoes.

All settled. Since he doesn't have gym, he can go to class without shoes 'till I come back with a brand new pair.

Sasha and I walk Arri to class and speak with his very cute, well dress, wonderful smelling, male teacher, who stands quite close.

As I haven't eaten a thing yet, I talk while breathing in. God help me.


Us girls get into the car, check the time, and I make a decision:

No time to buy him a new pair of shoes, especially without trying them on him.

You see Zaphron has a doctor's appointment for his ear in an hour (most probably, to some extent stemming from his blowing air into it over Christmas break last year, with his new bicycle air pump).

I go home with Sasha and the bag of soaked clothes and shoes.


Once there, I decide to try calming my nerves yet again by finishing off my Coke on the, well, melted rocks as they seem to be at this point. (Damn that it's too early to pour some vodka into it.... It is only 8:30 in the morning.)


No, the rest of the day did not go much smoother. The doctor found absolutely nothing wrong with Zaphron's ear, and suggested using a spray decongestant for three days to see if there was any change in his hearing. Aside from a tad of earwax, his ears seemed just fine. 70 dollars for him to tell me so.


Yes I did get some shoes to Arri by noon, just in time for lunch and recess and the end of the first week of school festivities. Zaphron, thankfully, found his old pair of hiking shoes and two mismatched socks which all fit Arri like a glove, however tattered of a glove it might be.


But, alas and alack, later in the day, Zaphron also found a small sore spot of a bump just under his right nipple. He now believes he is somehow or other growing a breast due to being around too much lavender oil (which yes, will produce mammalian protuberances on boys, though this is certainly not the case and no, he is not growing boobies).


I will let you all know if I indeed need to buy a training bra and what size. (I'm joking of course.)

I do hope you all had a day more like I initially intended mine to be, relaxing and filled with pleasures. If not, I'm assuming that after reading this, you're feeling much better about how things turned out for you.
Glad I could help.
Much love,
Frieda

5 comments:

Bill Zuback said...

I'm exhausted just reading that. Whoa! Sounds like it all ended well anyway due to some mommy heroics. My kids are too old for those types of scenes. Wait ten more years when you get the one when the police come to your door, your son's upstairs, and the cops ask if you are the father of ...

You mom's do have the toughest job in the world and are amazing!

Dustjacket Attic said...

Oh gosh, I'm the same as Bill ... somewhat exhasted for you my dear. I just loved the picture and your plans to replicate it, oh well, perhaps tomorrow!

Deep breaths,
xoxo

Nora Johnson said...

Can only repeat what Bill & DJ say above - I'm exhausted just reading it all!

Deep, every deep breaths!

Hope you're having a good (more relaxing) weekend!

xxNora:)

JamaGenie said...

Well, I'm exhausted too! Just reading this makes me want to crawl back in bed! ;D

Frieda Babbley said...

Oh, exhaustion to say the least. I failed to mention my oldest stuffed those snap firecrackers that you throw on the ground and they make a pop sound, into the tips of pistacios and smacked them down about the house. No, his school doesn't start until next Wednesday.
And Jama, by all means, crawl back in bed and stay there. I did, for a while anyway. =]
Wonderful to hear from all of you. And now, I make my rounds to your wonderful blogs that truly make my day!

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