I woke up this morning, later than normal, by 10 whole minutes.
But HEY, it's the weekend, shouldn't I be allowed to sleep till 7:10
on Sunday morning? I woke to the feel of a cold nose pressed against
my cheek, two brown eyes and a furry face staring me down.
Grover had to pee.

I sat up. Looking around the room. Mr. Happy beside me, snoring what
sounded suspiciously like "Memories" by Barbra Streisand.
I think I won't allow him to go hunting anymore.

I wondered why grover couldn't ask someone else, shrugged,
got up and let her out.
Magically, Babs awake from his sleep, sorry,
I mean, Glenn...and went to shower. He opened the shower door, spray streaming out,
steam drifting, asking where I keep the towels. Where do I keep the towels.
We've been married for almost 14 years, and lived in this house for
10 of them, and he asks me this morning where I keep the towels.
I avoided comment, it was too easy an opener, and just opened the vanity
and produced a thick towel for Mr. Happy.

I woke the kids, and asked them to get dressed. Both of them
stared at me blankly. I swear, the same blank look
I see from Mr. Happy. It frightened me. So... I pointed to their dressers...
and repeated myself, slowly "G...e....t.........d...r...e...s...s...e..d....
you know.... c...l...o..t..h..e...s." I reminded myself that they are simple
creatures to avoid annoyance.

Mr.Happy emerged from the shower, and went to our room. I did the morning
rituals in the bathroom, while the boys got dressed, hearing glenn state
they would be waiting for me, and why can't i hurry? They'll be
ready when I emerge. Well, I emerged, jogged out to (ok, well I didn't jog,
but still...) the living room, to find the three of them, sitting on the
couch in various stages of dress. Damian was fully clothed,
jacket , no shoes, not ready for the Sunday family ritual of breakfast out.
Mr.Happy, while fully clothed, was not in his jacket and shoes, Lucifer had his
shirt on, pants partly undone and was holding his socks in his hand. I stood
in front of those I fondly refer to as The Three Stooges, arms wide, stating
"THIS you call ready?"

Finally, the family bounds happily toward the Restaurant.
The radio's playing, the children are smiling and happy, and Glenn still
hadn't grumped. I immediately became suspicious. Though
I said nothing. Into the restaurant we go, hanging up our coats, and I turn,
the stooges are standing all in a row looking at me. My instinct told me
that they weren't sure where to sit. And... considering we were the only ones
in a restaurant with like, 30 tables, I determined that it was too tough
for them, and chose a table, shaking my head sadly.
Everyone was positive about what they wanted to order, and the friendly lady
with the notepad comes over, cracking her gum
and looked at us. I was suddenly reminded of Flo, from Mel's diner.
Mr.Happy orders, the regular breakfast with coffee.
I order, the regular breakfast with coffee.
Joey/Damian orders, the regular breakfast with coffee.
Needless to say, I stopped him there, though he did look sorta cute with that dumb
grin so much like his father spread across his face.
Josh/Lucifer wanted toast.
Just toast. Oh wait, maybe some sausages too.
Yes thats it.
Oh...actually, an egg might be good.
As a matter of fact, the hashbrowns too....
I stare at the ceiling while he deliberates with himself.
I look to the waitress and say,
"4 regular breakfasts, 2 coffee, 2 chocolate milk,
and some tylenol if you have it".

I weep for the future.
My sons will be part of what continues our country on into the next millenium,
and they can't even decide if they want sausages or bacon.

Finally we get through breakfast, Glenn gets up to pay, and we
climb back in the car, the children are happy and smiling,
and Glenn hasn't grumped once. Again, my suspicions arise.
I suggest getting groceries. Mr. Happy smiles and nods.
Marrying him for his conversational expertise was not high on my list.
I turned around to Joey and told him he had to do his map of Canada
on bristol board today and take it to school tomorrow.
He smiles and says "Ok Mom."
This time my mouth fell open.
Taking my chances, I tell Josh that I want to see his room cleaned
when we get home, he looked at me, and grinned, and said
"Whatever you say, Dave"
Ok, at least it's better than "Sir", which is what he called me for MONTHS.

We got groceries, rented a movie, got home, I put a roast beef
in the oven while Joey quietly worked on his project
and Josh cleaned his room. Mr. Happy sprawled quietly on the
living room couch....all was well. So.......I creak towards the staircase,
quiet as a mouse... looking over my shoulder as if I had the
Queen's jewels in my bra, got down two steps and Glenn bolts up
"ARE YOU GOING DOWN ON THE COMPUTER A G A I N!!???" Oy.

Rather than cause a scene, (because alas, he has found me out,
I'm on the computer 16 hours a day, doing nothing else, drinking coffee,
forever on the chat lines, while the dishes/laundry
vaccum/housekeeping fairies do all my work. *sigh*)
I come back up and putter for a few hours.

Finally, dinner is served. Roast beef, gravey, whipped tatoes
(as ordered by the firstborn manchild) corn, little fresh buns, the works.
As I carefully place each dish on the table,
I realize, they are already starting, their plates heap with each new bowl of
'stuff' i put on the table.

By the time I get there, they're almost done. I'm halfway through
my meal when three sets of eyes are glued to me. Glenn, glacing
at his watch, Joey staring at the fridge, and Josh quietly whimpering.
I get evil thoughts, knowing they're waiting for dessert (pumpkin pie),
and chew slower. Taking longer. Knowing that not one of them will
get off their lazy asses to get it themselves. God no, that's quite
an undertaking. When I happen to look up, I see Josh licking the last of the
gravey off his plate. Holding his plate right up, and licking it. And Glenn is
watching him. I consider asking Glenn to make a trough, but
suspect he won't, tear the plate from Josh's hands and give up
trying to finish *my* dinner. I start clearing. They all help.
By handing me things, suggesting that maybe I ought to
cover stuff, and 'don't throw that away, i'll eat it tomorrow'
(three onion pieces at the bottom of a bowl, this he wants me to save)...

The table is clear and they sit there salivating.
Salivating for babycrap pie.
I will never understand this, and have given up questioning it.
I slice three perfectly uniform pieces of ca-ca, top it with whipped cream,
but alas I am only capable of carrying two plates at a time.
If I don't take Joey's on the first round, he'll accuse me of loving
Josh more. If I don't take Josh's, he'll accuse me of loving Joey more....
If I don't take Mr.Happy's...well.... who cares really,
so I serve the boys first. They demolish everything. I sit there,
watching my stooges almost eat the plates.
Plates that were once holding babycrap pie.

I get up and go to the sink, when I turn around, they're gone.
All of them. Downstairs to watch a movie...I sigh and do all
the dishes. With the kitchen clean, I go into the bathroom.
When I finish, I note that the roll of toiletpaper is now empty.
The new rolls are right *there* less than 6 inches from the empty roll.
With a heavy heart, I change the roll and think to myself...

My life is a commercial. I am a mother. Even worse, I'm Erma Bombeck.
And I'm doing what she did. Because rather than losing her mind
quietly, she lost her mind publically, laying out every detail of
her twisted family life in books. And the scary part, is I think
she wrote about MINE before I even HAD mine.

So, here I am, a glass of wine, writing to my Mom, and raising
my glass because Mom, you did all this with more kids than
I have, and (no offence Dad) with the same man, for 40 years.
Here's to you, and here's to Erma.......and if you want *any* of this
wine I bottled, you best speak now, because the way it looks right now,
it ain't gonna last long!

Take me home! Main Dave's Chronicles

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