• Pull My Finger
by: Shannon Michele Johnston
sept 2000

 

     Well, I was working on an article for this month, but before I throw it into the air I want it to be fully winged. So instead, I was intrigued with the idea of giving you a glimpse into a day in the life...not that you're interested, or even that you care, and maybe it would remind you far too much of your own lives...no, that's not possible. So, whether or not you are ready, sit back, relax and do whatever it is you do. You are about to read VERY intimate details about me. A typical day for me is to wake up to the obnoxious buzzing sound of this alarm clock, the type of sound that should be illegal. I can hardly believe that people wake up to this shit and THEN have to go work and interact with others. So, until they ban obnoxious alarm clocks, I think it would be excusable to use that as a defense, in the event you might want to pull an OJ Simpson. You might even get away with it...he did.
     So, the alarm clock goes off at 4:30 a.m. ( my husband's time), now this is such an unnecessary disturbance, a husband's obnoxious alarm clock should NEVER disturb the tender slumber of his wife. That should be law! So, chronically sleep deprived, I get up with four children and try to put the right clothes on the right child. I make an occasional mistake, and they are good about pointing that out, "mommy, my shoes don't match."
     "So?"
     "But, I can't wear shoes that don't match!"
     "But, why not, for God's sake, you run around in your underwear all day, what difference does it make if your shoes don't match?" Sigh.
     And then of course, I am the one responsible for making sure they have things like, lunches and other miscellaneous items for school. I accepted the fact a long time ago, that mornings just suck and they always will.
     I have one child that was born with some brain fungus, more correctly known as Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. THAT is always so much fun! He qualifies for one of those pre-prison institutions. When he doesn't get his way, or when someone pisses him off he attacks with sharp and dangerous objects.
     All mornings are spent tolerating his maniacal, gargoyle-like outbursts, because someone else used the piece of bread he wanted, or they looked at him funny. In the car, on the way to school, someone inevitably ticks him off so he reaches over and grabs as much hair as possible. So now, all three girls are screaming as he sits conspicuously with his fists full of white, honey and red-brown strands. Awful thoughts begin to intrude upon me, like, 'Why couldn't I have believed in abortion?'
     And then huge relief washes over me, when I finally pull into the school yard to drop them off. It is like slipping into a pool of cool, shimmering water on a sweltering day. Ahh, a quiet, undisturbed drive home.
     Then I go into the house to face the clothes bomb that went off in my living room, that morning, while I am folding and putting it away, the four year old still at home decides to push the automatic ice dispenser button and crushed ice scatters all over the kitchen floor. Quickly, I start sweeping it up before it melts. In the meantime, the four year old has gone to the rest room and after using too much toilet paper starts screaming, "mommy, the bathroom is flooding!" On the way in, I notice someone has opened a Diet Coke and dumped it on the carpet, someone else couldn't make it to the waste can with their leftover toast so they just dropped it right there on the floor and then walked over it.

     Now it is a matter of prioritizing tasks. The toilet first, the scattered ice second, the soda and crushed up toast and blackberry jelly stain third. Now, I look at the clock, and it is time to go pick up my kindergartner from school. As I am standing on the grass waiting, some little dog on a leash walks over, and I shit you not, hikes his leg up and pisses all over my foot.
     I went through the four stages of shock. Denial, "No way! That dog didn't just piss on me!" To disbelief, "I can't believe that dog just pissed on me!" To anger, "Hey lady, your fucking dog just pissed on me!" To acceptance, "that fucking dog really pissed on me."
     So now, the priorities change, shower first, toilet second, the melted ice all over the floor in the kitchen third, the carpet shampooing fourth.
     While I am in the shower, someone decided they were hungry and got into the crackers, dumping the entire contents of the box onto the table, then deciding that jelly would taste good on them crackers, missed the cracker altogether so that blobs of jelly are now all over the floor, the table, purple smears all over the light switch, trailing into the living room, traveling toward the couches. This reminds me that food must be thawed out for dinner, in that, being the indentured slave that I am, I should also cook it, as well as being graced with the entitlement of cleaning it up afterward. Lucky me!
     So, now I have tackled the bathroom, done my best to clean up the carpet, the kitchen gets a half-assed rub down, the kids are all home at this point and fighting in the living room over what channel they will watch, and then hubby comes home!
     As soon as the door opens they all scatter to their rooms, so he doesn't know they were just in there, destroying it. So he comes in bitching about the living room being messy, and how he can't eat that for dinner, looks through the house, comes back into the kitchen and asks, "Gawd, did you not do anything all day?
     I explain that I am doing my best to get everything taken care of and he disappears into the backyard with a beer, lets the kids swim awhile as he watches. Now watery trails are forming in and out of the house because they are dripping wet and have come in to get something. I throw down some towels, which consequently, I get bitched at for.
     My back is aching, I am stressed out to the gills, but I manage to get dinner on the table and everyone is eating, just when I sit down, one of the children would like something else. And on that goes until they finally slide down from the table, wash and run into the bedroom to read.
     I summon up what energy might be left in me to put the dishes in the dishwasher, and now it is time to wash the dirty clothes that were used that day. Just when I am loading clothes into the washing machine hubby comes in and says, "gee, I sure would like to snack on something this evening, will you run to the store and pick something up?"
     It is a minimum one hour trip to the store, so upon battling assinine traffic to get home again, all the kids are filing in and out of the shower and getting dressed for bed. However, although they look like they are ready for sleep it will be another two hours before the act is complete.
     Remember the ADHD kid? Well, he takes a sack of ritalin throughout the day, and although it controls his insane behavior the side effects are sleeplessness. So, he is still awake until sometime around midnight, all the while I am telling him to be quiet and lie down. He finally drops off, and then I would like to have just ONE hour of time just for me, but I am too tired and fall asleep.

     Just as I am in the middle of some really groovy dream, screeching snaps me back to this foggy, and completely incoherent state, someone has to go potty. I take them potty, put them back in bed, lie down, and I can't fall asleep again. So I roll around for awhile and then someone else has to go potty.
     So, here I am trying like hell to fall back to sleep, and just when I do, that obnoxious Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep beep-beeping goes off. And the bullshit starts anew. I smiled to myself, because just when you feel like you couldn't be more shit on, some little dog comes along.

Shannon Michele Johnston
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