Monday, July 02, 2007

kits, cats, sacks, and wives...

first of all, i want to know what the hell a concert is supposed to do to help the degenerating ozone? and for the unlucky sods who are slated to play on antartica, i hope they aren't using their most prized equipment. i also predict that will be the shortest concert in recorded history: "fuck this is cold!" followed by about 46 seconds of song, followed by all the guitarist's strings snapping as he lays into a heavy power chord, followed by "thank you, antarctica, you've been great! (now get us in the fucking quansat hut before my fucking fingers freeze off and i never play again.)

at 6 am this morning, i awakened quite abruptly to the sound of no. 2 shrieking in anger (somewhere in our family tree, a howler monkey is grinning his fool ass off), followed by no. 2 crying quite noisily.

i throw the covers off and stomp out to the living room. i have to dodge pele, who is convinced he hasn't eaten in weeks, and thinks that if he trips me up and i break my leg, he will get the food faster.

in a split second i have sized up the situation: nos. 1 and 2 are fighting over whether they are going to watch a movie or play a game.

i lose it.

i inform them in no uncertain terms that it is too early to be up, that they need to get back in bed. i rant, i rave. i inform them that it is six in the morning and they wouldn't even be up this early for school. i stomp around. i advise them that fighting at this time of the morning has been proven by the surgeon general to be hazardous to their health. i pace back and forth angrily, and pele is right behing me, caterwauling the entire time. due to my general lack of sleep, coffee, and the earliness of the hour, i lace my tirade with words i shouldn't be using with my children.

i am, in general, greeted with blank stares from my children, as if i have donned a fur cap and boots and am shouting in russian like a vodka-soaked cossak. ("you guys need to get back in bed!" is greeted with, "it's light outside, daddy" this because a few weeks ago, i awoke to noise at 1 a.m. upon investigating, i found no. 1 in the living room hunched over the video game controller playing games like william lee getting his fix in a tangiers apartment. i informed him that if it was dark outside, it was too early for video games. of course, it is summer here, and we are a bit northerly on the map: it's light here until nine p.m. and is probably light again around 5 a.m. (though i cannot confirm this, not actually having seen it for myself).)

all the while, pele is glued to my ankles like a cancerous growth, whining and mewling for his food. by the time i give it to him and free myself from my white-and-orange-shadow with a deathwish, it is apparent to me that any dream i might've had of returning to bed for a few more hours' sleep should be ground, placed in a corn cob, lit afire, and inhaled.

is there a looney-bin in st. ives?

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4 Comments:

Blogger Pixie said...

Ah that's better i was getting worried that the kids were too quiet this weekend.

I bet really you're a soppy old pussy cat with them!!
px

2:25 PM  
Blogger lady macleod said...

Oh Shiva I'm am LOL. Not at you, really! with you, with you - well that is when you are back up to laughing. Oh mercy so funny. I have the picture in my head somewhere between "Name of the Rose" and "The Fifth Element".

Keep breathing Dad. You are adorable.

3:18 PM  
Blogger Queeny said...

I feel for you, brother. Mine are late-sleepers, fortunately. (Prob'ly now cause they're getting the wind knocked out of em at tumbling camp.)

7:33 PM  
Blogger Bel said...

I used to love the summer. Summer meant vacation and sleeping in till noon. Ever since baby Bel was born, however, mommy Bel hates the summer. Even covering the windows with plaids for God's sake does not keep the little monster from calling out to me at 5.30 am: "Mommy, I want to go downstairs. It's light outside already".
Seriously, give me the winter. All. year. long.

Bel

1:46 AM  

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