Tuesday, 8 February 2011
The Morning Hustle
The Morning Hustle
I get up at five each morning even though I don’t have to get anyone else up until six-fifteen. I do this because I need to orient myself to the world. I know when I give the cock-a-doodle-doo there is going to be massive chaos in my house, and I need the extra time to wake up and just generally brace myself.
Only two of my kids live with me full time. One is living with her boyfriend. The other girl, the oldest, tried semi-living with hers but he’s broke and has no car and so she was in and out of my house for food and money. And then…her grades came in for this past semester. So, she got this ultimatum: Either you are at home each night that you must attend school the next day or you will need to pack your clothes and go live with him and come visit me for Sunday lunch only.
Yeah, I was serious. And her grades are now excellent. Boyfriend is pissed. But who cares? I sure as hell don’t.
The downside of all this is that she’s not a morning person. Now she knows that every morning I am going to wake her up at six-fifteen in order to shower, dress, do make-up, eat breakfast and get to an eight o’clock class. But every morning this is what I get:
“OMG! I hate my life! I have not slept all night long. The dogs drove me crazy. I’m not going to my eight o’clock.” And all of this is said to the TOP of her lungs. The house vibrates with her yelling.
How can a person wake up yelling? She does it EVERY single morning.
My reply to her is always the same. “Then you’ll have plenty of time to pack your bags and get them dropped off at your boyfriend’s house before the ten o’clock class.” Yep, I’m serious.
By the way, boyfriend lives with his mama.
Then there is the boy to deal with. He’s fourteen, six feet tall, 210 lbs. He’s a big one. And trust me, he’s a solid wall. He is the exact opposite of her. While she is running around screaming—damning the dogs and life in general—he is still in bed with the covers over his head. I have to call his name thirty or forty times, shake him, in order to get him to groan. To get him ready it requires me steadily telling him what to do and when to do it.
Most mornings I find him sitting in a chair with one sock and shoe on and the other set sitting in his lap with his head leaned back in the chair, eyes closed and mouth wide open. Yep, he’ll fall back to sleep in a heartbeat if you don’t stay after him.
But when he and his sister cross paths? The world doesn’t really need to worry about Iran or Korea having nuclear weapons. I’ve got ‘em right here. Mushroom cloud every single morning.
Inevitably they stray into each other’s path or one says something the other takes exception to. This morning the boy told the girl that her hair was sticking up in back. Now had I told her that she would have gone straight to the bathroom and dealt with it. But since it was him? Oh no. She took that as him making fun of her hair. So she whirled on him.
“You need to mind your own damn business!”
“Well you need to comb your hair!”
“If I go to school bald it’s none of your damn business!”
“If you’re bald, your boyfriend will break up with you. He probably wants to anyway ‘cause you’re such a bitch!.”
“Well at least I can get someone to love me. You don’t even HAVE a girlfriend!”
Now he stands up and gets in her face, towering over her. “I could if I want to but I’m scared she’ll be too much like you!”
“Not with that big damn pimple on your chin!”
Rutro…he shoves her. Rutro…she shoves him back. Rutro…Tess jumps between them. OUCH!
Rutro…Tess is on her ass. And it’s flat. Remember yesterday’s post? No padding to speak of.
Things got quiet.
The boy reaches down and lifts me up. I’m 5’2. She’s 5’8 and like I said, he’s 6’0. I’m at a big disadvantage physically speaking but thank god I have a TALL personality. Soooo…this is what they got:
And then… “You both have five minutes to finish dressing and get the hell out of my house.”
He says (He’s always hungry. Can’t fill him up. When he isn’t hungry is how I know he’s sick.):
“But I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
“I’ll give ya ten bucks for Bojangles.” And to her, I said: “Don’t let your road rage fling your brother through the windshield this morning.”
And then I stalked into my office and sat down at the comp to vent all my feelings here to all of you. Aren’t ya happy I did that? LOL Ya know...I'm beginning to believe I could sell my life as one of those TV reality shows. Can you picture it?
Erotic romance writer crafts steamy stories of sex and love while dealing with the ordinary day-to-day BULLSHIT.
Writing is where I find my solace and gain my strength. Only four more days until Twelve Days of Love releases. Friday, February 11.