Wednesday again

Some people live for the weekend. Not me. I strive to make it to Wednesday night. I have come to despise Wednesdays. They are exhausting from way before sun-up to far past sundown. My day goes like this:



4:45 a.m. Wake up and take a quick shower

5:30 a.m. Get to the gym and kill myself for an hour

6:38 a.m. Arrive home where I am immediately greeted by my husband: "Get these boys something to wear." I trudge upstairs to the whines of a 6-year old terrified he will miss the bus. He is worried that I haven't signed his agenda or written the check for his field trip. His pants are too big, his shirt is too long and his shoes are too slow. Tough.

7 a.m. 6-year old leaves and it's 3-year old's turn. "I don't wanna go pee pee in the potty yet. I snuggle with Mommy." Ahhh, one of the sweet spots in this horrible day.

7:30 a.m. My 3-year old goes to Mimi's house and I am blissfully alone to take a shower and make it to work by 8:30.

8:30 a.m. - 1 p.m. I do 8 hours worth of work and internet surfing.

1 p.m. My Mom and Loudon will come and bring my favorite meal from Panera. Okay, this is a definite highlight.

2:15 p.m. Head out to school with Loudy to pick up Turner and take them BOTH to the PTO meeting that should start by 3 p.m.

3:45 p.m. Sitting in the PTO meeting tapping my foot and calculating how many seconds it will take to reach karate, which starts at...

4 p.m. Karate. Oh, how I hate it. I have now been reprimanded because Loudon does not sit quietly in a chair and watch. I am on egg shells that we will be tossed out on our tails the next time he crawls across the floor playing race cars.

5 p.m. Arrive home from karate. Just enough time to shove some food down my children's throats and search wildly for Turner's AWANA handbook and vest (which will most likely need to be ironed from being crumpled in a corner somewhere).

6 p.m. Run out of the house and to the local church where he attends AWANA. Drop him off and head to the gym.

8 p.m. Pick up Turner and drive home, imagining changing into comfy clothes and climbing onto the couch for 5 minutes of TV viewing before I drift off to sleep.

8:05 p.m. Tell my husband he's in charge of baths and bedtime and go hide under a comforter. Approximately 7 seconds later I will be found. It's not fair that anyone has to take a bath ever. Daddy's being mean. Turner points out that he's not even dirty and he took a bath last night.

The torture continues until at least 9 p.m. Honestly? I'm not even sure how long it lasts because eventually my mind tunes them out and I pass out cold.