Yes. Yes it is.
Sybil at Bitch posted a narrative of her average day, which, as I read it, felt eerily similar. And then I felt even worse at the end of it where I wanted to cry for her and realized that it was really ME I wanted to cry for.
The kids and I came home yesterday, spilling out of the car and into the kitchen, book bags and coats flung about and Goldfish bags torn open, and much much whining about being hungry and get out of my way and watch out for the cat and I forgot my social studies homework and I can’t find my tap shoes. [Say it with me now: Good. Effing. Gravy.]
We have exactly 15 minutes to eat a snack and regroup before we’re making the Wednesday taxi ride of: Dance, Soccer, come-home-inhale-dinner, and then Hockey. In that 15 minutes Big J usually practices his drums, which luckily involves a “practice pad” but still manages to be loud, and therefore manages to elicit even more loud reproach from the other kids. [Aside: I can’t be the only parent who experiences the “MOOM! MAKE HIM/HER BE QUIET!” uber-irony?]
I normally do not pay attention to much in that 15 minutes. I normally am in the basement speed-switching the laundry out, or speed-loading the dishwasher, or doing something domestic speedily. So yesterday, Big J was not pounding the practice pad, he was running the microwave. This, to my mind, is a good thing, as it means he is not entreating ME to prepare him some kind of snack (and he’s being quiet).
I ask him: What’re you making?
He: A chicken sandwich.
Me: … Where from? Did you save it from lunch?
He: … mumble mumble
Microwave: beep beep beep
And thus, he removes his sandwich and I’m off to attend to somesuch elsewhere, forgetting about the mysterious chicken sandwich.
Insert Wednesday evening madness here.
Then last night, as I’m drifting off to sleep, the image of a Burger King bag, which had been on the floor board on the passenger side of my car, looms in my mind. I wake from near-unconsciousness and roll over to shake B.
Me: When did you all go to Burger King?
He: Oh, Sunday for lunch.
Me: Oooooh Gaaaawd.
Now, if we lived in CNY still, I’m sure the near-40 October temps would have (maybe?) properly preserved the sandwich for the 4 days it was in the car; however, the lovely 70-degree days we’ve had earlier this week did little to keep the sandwich from being salmonella-ified.