[Well, except for this:
And lo, on the third day, the water table did begin to recede. As of about 2:00 this afternoon, the pumps are actually removing water instead of just maintaining. I expect to hit concrete tomorrow. Never before have I been so excited by the prospect of seeing floor. I turned the pump off at 12:30 because I was afraid to let it run all night, and the water was down to half an inch. This morning? Four inches. KILL. ME.]
Anyway. Hi! The kids went back to school today, so I decided to pretend Life Is Normal.
After all, life IS normal. Right? Work to be done. Dishes to be washed. Kids to be yelled at. Crazy people to be avoided. Groceries to buy. And, um, killer dandelions. Aaaaaaaaaall perfectly normal.
This morning as the kids were eating breakfast and I was packing lunches, I asked Chickadee if she wanted half a sandwich or a whole sandwich. She asked for a whole. “Are you sure?” I pressed. “Do you really think you’ll be that hungry?” She assured me that she would be. I packed her a whole sandwich. File this away for later reference.
Once the kids were off to school, it was my first chance to do some actual WORK since last Friday. Woo! Nothing like sitting down to all the stuff you should’ve finished days ago. I find that it feels like an insurmountable task until I’ve had about three cups of coffee, after which everything feels inconsequential next to the hammering of my heart. So I had my coffee and did some work and then I took a break to call my bank.
I love my bank. I do. They are lovable and slobbery and not very bright. Wait, that’s my Dad’s dog. My mistake! My bank is not actually slobbery (at least not so’s I’ve noticed). But they are quite wonderful and lovable but still, not all that bright sometimes.
The good news is that when I went in about a month ago and finally opened a business checking account, they were fabulous. I had NO idea of what I needed or how to best handle things. (To wit: “Hi! I have some accounts with you! And I think I would like another one, for business stuff, maybe. Um, I like money. Do you have money?”) Two bank employees gave me their undivided attention and walked me through the options and got me all squared away. And gave me a lollipop. It was great.
The bad news is that about a month ago I opened this new account, and it has mysteriously remained MIA from my online banking center. So today I called them up to suggest that perhaps that let me access that account online, along with the rest of my accounts, because my whole financial strategy involves moving money around between my various accounts until it FEELS like I have a bunch.
After about half an hour on the phone, we determined that I could access my business account from a (new) business login, and that I could link my personal accounts to my business account, but that I could not link my business account to my personal accounts. Why? We do not know. Do not question The Bank. The Bank has its reasons. You will obey The Bank and in return The Bank will sometimes allow you access to your money. Eat your lollipop.
So. I got that squared away. I took care of some other things. I bailed some water. I considered taking a shower, as it was now lunchtime and I was still in my jammies and partially drenched with swamp water. Naturally, this was also the point at which someone rang my doorbell.
I froze. Noon. Jammies. Swamp water. Who would be at my door? The bell rang again. I had decided to ignore it (because I wasn’t expecting anyone, and I looked like crap) when the knocking started. And the rattling of the doorknob.
Then I freaked out and ran upstairs to look out the window. It was a dear friend, bringing me lunch. I felt quite silly for freaking out. So I went outside, swamp jammies and all, to tell her to COME ON IN! And then we were attacked by dandelions. The rain has been good to the dandelions. They come up to my KNEES. And they want to eat our brains, I’m sure of it. (My friend and I had a good laugh and came inside. And then I went and took a quick shower, because, really.)
After lunch I did some more work, and then before I knew it, it was time to get the kids and go for groceries.
This is milk-free trial week for Monkey, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of milk alternatives on hand for my little dairy hound. Vanilla rice milk for him. Organic green tea soy milk for me. (Why? Because I am a masochist. Also, it was on sale.) Soy yogurt. Tofutti ice cream. Lots of fruits and veggies. And $1.99/pound salmon steaks. (No, he probably won’t eat those. But, dude. $1.99/pound!)
Home again, I thought perhaps I would do some of the dishes that have been sitting in the sink since… ummm… let’s not think about it. I shovelled out the kitchen, and let me just say, it had been a LONG day. I worked hard today. And no matter what I did, there was always more to be done. And no matter how much advil I ate, every muscle in my body still expressed extreme hatred for how heavy a gazillion buckets of water turn out to be. I was not in top motherhood form, is what I’m saying.
I grabbed the kids’ lunchbags and discovered that Chickadee HADN’T TOUCHED HER SANDWICH. Would she eat the whole sandwich? That had been the wrong question. I SHOULD have asked her if she would even bother taking it out of the baggie. It was pristine. Untouched. Slightly smushed, but not even nibbled.
My brain exploded and I stepped outside of myself and observed as my corporeal self lost her shit in a grandiose fashion.
CHICKADEE ROSE LASTNAME, did you or did you not PROMISE me that you would eat an entire sandwich today? Did you not LOOK ME IN THE EYE this morning and SWEAR that you NEEDED an entire sandwich? And what is THIS? Why, I do believe it’s YOUR ENTIRE SANDWICH. WASTED. And can we afford to be throwing food into the garbage? Let me think. Hmmm. Well, we have a BASEMENT FULL OF WATER, and maybe you do not realize how EXPENSIVE it is to have your house turned into a POND. Maybe you think it’s FINE AND DANDY to throw food away. Of course you WOULD, because YOU never have to go without. No matter how tight money is, YOU always have everything you need. No, when food gets thrown away, WHO ends up going without? ME. I GO WITHOUT. TO FEED YOU. TO FEED YOU FOOD YOU DON’T EVEN EAT.
Her eyes got rounder and rounder, and I stopped about five seconds short of “NO MORE WIRE HANGERS” and feebly concluded, “I’m just frustrated. Please don’t waste food. You can see it makes me a little nutty.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said, almost sounding sorry. “Don’t be stressed.” She gave me a hug. I collected my Worst Mother of the Year award and went back to washing dishes.
Yep. Everything’s back to normal.