On the 7th Day HE May Have Rested. This Mother Did Not.

5:30am alarms, on a Sunday, hold a special place in hell. And that place in hell, is probably the bed-side nightstand of parents, who may be dead and in hell, but they still have an early start for never-ending work. Work, to pay off not only their children’s student loans, but theirs too. (Thanks Boomers.)

Poor Derrick HATES Sundays. Granted, he technically works less hours on a Sunday than he does Monday-Friday, but he works from 7am until noon, then 2pm until 7pm and finally 10:30pm to 2am Monday. Which then we have a 5:30am start on Monday too. It never ends for us. (We’re praying his boss ALLOWS him to have next Sunday off–ya know, to have a full day to acknowledge and worship the Mother Goddess that I am.)

I had had plans to get up when it was still dark, grab coffee and blog early in the day–but as you can tell by now; it’s nearly 9pm for me here in California. It’s the end of a very long, very busy day and I am sitting here with an entire box of hair dye slathered through my hair (thanks mom, for keeping my coarse greys a secret–but I revoke my thank you because it’s your genes that led me to premature greying!).

The day started out mostly okay, other than it still being dark and a gorgeous thoughtful newborn was STILL sleeping when Alexa decided to ruin grace us with her monstrous heavenly harp. I had time for a (half) cup of coffee before I heard Ivy becoming restless, but not before Savannah (and the bound up ball of infinite energy that she is) came bouncing up asking for cereal and a banana. But we didn’t have any bananas. Or milk for the cereal. Begrudgingly, Derrick agreed to saddle up and head to the grocery store for supplies (including the aforementioned, as well as shredded cheddar, a ham steak and jalapenos–for dinner–a recipe I WILL be sharing–as I’ve been told it’s of “restaurant quality” *puffs chest*)

My chores started early. I always start in the bedroom, after I nurse the baby, change her and get her either calm or asleep. This morning, she choose an early nap. So I started my basics: make the bed, empty the laundry baskets and take the clothes to the garage and start laundry and grab what’s in the dryer, clear off the dishes or trash from the nightstands, refill the humidifier, and other normal-oddities in our bedroom. Next I have my own personal routine; brush my teeth, my hair and wash my face, get dressed, apply girly smell-good-shit and sit at the edge of my bed for my health routine: check my blood pressure, heart rate, temperature, my weight and take my vitamins, supplements and medication.

Today I had plans on finally getting around to making Ivy’s Dream Catcher Mobile. But that didn’t happen. The supplies still lay dormant on my craft table in the garage. I hadn’t had plans to have Ivy 5 weeks early, but, well, shit happens. And thinking about my week ahead, I don’t know if I’m going to have time this week to film the tutorial for it as I had planned to. I did get a new Nikon though…with a bitching tripod, so who knows, I may make this mobile tutorial a priority…on Wednesday…only because Derrick has that day off for an important doctors appointment…so I can pawn the kids off on him while I busy myself in the garage.

I made an office for myself in my bedroom today, since I technically have to be within arms reach of my newest intern. For an unpaid employee, she sure is demanding.

(Side note: I had to run away from my laptop, because like a sleep-deprived idiot that I am, I completely forgot that there was dye in my hair and I proceeded to scratch my scalp. -.-)

And I’m out of coffee.


So well I was busy cleaning and organizing and moving furniture and hundreds of books; my kids decided to be rebellious brats and cause a, well, a rebellion. My 7 year old & my 4 year old decided to fight over every.single.toy. And no amount of early nap threats or talking to’s, or take away’s, they continued to argue. Loudly. So I asked Evelyn to grab my one of her dads larger t-shirts and I made the LOs stand back to back as I slipped the shirt over them and told them they had to stand there wearing that “Get Along” shirt until they got along.

The older kids decided it was the funniest thing in the world and wouldn’t stop laughing (confusing the girls and frustrating me) so I threatened to put them in a shirt. They laughed harder. So I threatened a “Get Along” bra. They laughed louder. So I threatened a “Get Along” Thong and OMG the horror that struck Evelyn’s face was priceless–MJ was a bit dumbfounded until she thoroughly detailed what it was, er’ what the lack of it was. And to really drive home the threat, while they were loudly protesting with rushed “No, no, no’s,” I proceeded to threaten a “Get Along Thong” theme song–which I made rhyme and didn’t hesitate one bit, going right into rap-mode.

“This is our Get Along Thong and this is our Get Along Song. We wear our Get Along Thong for acting wrong and we’re stuck with mom singing a shitty Get Along Song…”

(Hindsight, the way this night ended; I REALLY should’ve followed through with that threat. Instead, we have a living room and dining room is now crowded with ALL the “spoils” and non-necessities that were revoked from our older children because I was officially and thoroughly TIRED of having to be a damn human task reminder for chores and responsibilities.)

Most of the day was a blur because if I wasn’t moving and cleaning things, I was nursing my intern while watching The Handmaid’s Tale (Duuuuuuude—review to come!) (Oh yeah, I need to review Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 too! That was last nights Date Night)

I vaguely remember telling (yelling) for children to get in the shower and to clean up toy and crayon messes, while I alternated nursing and making dinner (I promised–I WILL be posting my recipe for my Honey Jalapeno Shrimp over Ham & Cheese Polenta tomorrow!)

Thankfully, Derrick came home and I relinquished the reins. He gave the kids’ a stern talking to, made them give up the goods into the living room to SEE and REALIZE the vast unappreciation they have for ALL that we provide and spoil them with, and he’s now feeding Ivy for me. My Alexa chimed my 45 minute hair dye alarm 5 minutes ago–but it’s important for me to get this out in the blogosphere before I jump in the shower and IMMEDIATELY crash into a freshly made bed with crisp sheets.

Tomorrow should be more interesting–I hope. I actually have errands that require me to leave the house with MULTIPLE children. Will I survive? Depends on how quickly the Latuda kicks in with the coffee!

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