Posted by: Hannah | 06/04/2014

headless chickens

Spring finally arrived on Friday, so I’ve been offline more than on the past few days. Also I thought I’d let the dust settle from the last post. I appreciate every comment I received, both on the blog and privately, but following up stymied me a bit, I’ll be honest.

I’m finding adjusting to the new summer schedule hard. It’ll be less of a fuckaround once school lets out, but in the meantime, it’s kind of insane. Witness yesterday:

7:30AM – Louis arrived half an hour early with no notice even though his dad knew the day before he’d need to be dropped off early.

8:00AM – Arthur & Daisy arrived without sunscreen on a day when the UV index was 9. Arthur is in school of course and our teachers love to take classes outside in the sunny courtyard on nice days. Plus recess. Plus lunch. Needed extra time to grease up Arthur.

8:30AM – Get Louis & Pixie ready for preschool. Includes basic hygiene and personal care neglected by their parents, such as washing last night’s dinner off faces (Louis) and combing giant knots out of hair (Pixie).

8:45AM – Leave for preschool.

9:00AM – Take Daisy & George shopping for a birthday present for my niece. Required stops in two stores.

10:00AM – Return home. Apply sunscreen. Send children outside to play.

10:05AM – Stop George from picking up the dead weasel my cat left in the yard as a present for me.

10:30AM – Hang out wash.

10:40AM – Look for box large enough to pack niece’s birthday present in, for shipping.


11:ooAM – Find a box. Wrap package. Realize after the last piece of packing tape is applied that I forgot to put a card or note of any kind inside the box.

11:15AM – Realize that George has been pouring water into the barbeque ash pan and mixing it with his hands for fifteen minutes.

11:25AM – Take children to post office. Rejoice at being first in line. Joy turns to ashes in my mouth as the one clerk on duty answers a phone call just as I reach the counter. It is a personal call. She’s buying a used kitchen table. Listen to her discuss plans to pick up the kitchen table for five full minutes. Realize that 2 year olds are playing in the costume jewelry display. Decide to not give a shit.

11:40AM – Drive too fast to preschool for pickup.

11:55AM – Let kids play on the playground for a while before we go home.

12:30PM – Lunch. Daisy throws hers on the floor. Since it’s cut-up hot dogs and reheated frozen perogies, I can’t say I blame her.

1:00PM – Naptime.

1:10PM – Start making spagetti sauce for dinner, because Harry has baseball 15 minutes after I’m finished work.

1:40PM – Commence folding four million baskets of laundry.

2:15PM – Put away four million baskets of laundry.

2:25PM – Sit down for five minutes.

2:3oPM – Go meet school bus.

2:35PM – Make snacks for school kids. Deal with George who wakes up cranky and whiny.

2:45PM – Wake up Pixie. Listen to her complain for fifteen minutes about how tired she is.

3:30PM – Wake up Louis & Daisy. Feed them.

3:40PM – Put everyone outside in the backyard. Do dishes while watching kids out the window and running out to mediate screaming disputes every five minutes. Help Harry with his homework.

4:15PM – Realize that George has rolled in a dust bowl like a chinchilla taking a bath. There won’t be time for him to bath when we get home from the game, so he needs a bath immediately. Now have children in the bathroom, one bedroom, the dining room, and the backyard.

4:45PM – Feed my three children while Daisy clings to my leg and wails because I won’t let her eat supper with them.

5:00PM – Pixie goes home.

5:15PM – Louis goes home.

5:29:30PM – Daisy & Arthur go home. Dad says he’s been home all afternoon and is wearing flip flops and shorts. I briefly fantasize about beating dad to death with a baseball bat.

5:30PM – Fly out the door with kids & snacks in tow.

5:45PM – Arrive at ball field. Settle two younger kids with snacks, books, etc. Rejoice in their uncommonly good behaviour.

6:00PM – Game starts. Harry is first up to bat. Hits a solid single. Trots slowly to first. Ends up on second because other team throws the ball away.

6:05PM – Pitching machine fails because of light rain. Game is called.


I know that our evenings are only going to get worse come July, when Ron’s baseball starts. But I’ve already told the older kids that they’ll be called on to help with household chores once they don’t have school anymore, and they are well able to handle things like laundry, unloading the dishwasher, etc. Plus with no school, I can revel in making peanut butter sandwiches for lunch, not needing to keep track of agendas or library books or hot lunch order forms, and blessed freedom from passive-aggressive notes home from the teacher.

I’m just bored, I think. The daily grind of our routine is stultifying. At this point, a change will be as good as a rest.




  1. I don’t care what your husband says, that is a DOUBLE. Even if it is an overthrow, it still counts as a double, nah-nah-nah Michael.

    Hee hee “I briefly fantasize about beating dad to death with a baseball bat.”

    Reading this, I am exhausted. Whew.

    • I have many baseball bats I could have used, too.

  2. Nicole, well I am sure you are very nice and all that, but if you call that an actual double, you don’t know shit about baseball. 🙂

    • Don’t FIIIIIIGHT you guys!! GOD!!!!

  3. I am exhausted just reading this. I don’t know how you do it.

  4. Much as I ALWAYS want to be on Nicole’s side, Angus wouldn’t let us get away with calling that ‘hitting a double’ either. Sigh. He could probably do a decent job on Arthur and Daisy’s dad for you, though!
    I can’t TELL you how many times I’ve done that ‘wrap the present, forget to add the card’ trick. I think it’s because I hate shipping things SO MUCH. Why can’t they just build a frikkin’ transporter already.

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