This was it. The time had finally come at last. The small joys of stay at home motherhood. BEDTIME.
After a day of errand running, lawn mowing, diaper changing, snack making and attitude taking – I was ready for those little rugrats to slip off to sleep for 12, 15, 20 hours.
I scampered downstairs feeling exhaustion as if I had ran a summer marathon in Phoenix. This whole summertime no school thing can get a hard workin’ momma a run for her money. My kids are still so young; school barely makes a dent since it’s a few hours… but for some reason I keep checking that calendar with the big red words “SCHOOL STARTS” nearly every week. So the kids were “put away” but there were the dishes, the garden, laundry and have course the puppy. Finishing up those end of the day obligations with my eyes half closed all I could think of was this desire to fall onto the couch and stare at some mindless entertainment. At this point, even commercials would do.
I grabbed a nice tall glass of water, a blanket, the remote, my phone, baby monitor and any other possible item that I might have to get up for and then, I sat. Eli, our 12-week puppy plopped down on the floor beside me. Of course he drives me up a wall most the day, chewing pacifiers and traumatizing the children with his lil razor sharp puppy chops. But at least he’s adorable and obeys me for the most part. I enjoy snuggling at the end of the day after we’ve played and he’s calm enough to just lay down. You know, man’s best friend and all. Is Eli the only one in the house that knows how to just kick it?
So, I flipped on some John Stewart and sighed with relief. Aaahh. It’s now “mommy hour”. As quickly as I relaxed – the TV kept flipping channels. SERIOUSLY? Does this have to happen? Infomercial, sports, soft jazz, infomercial…. It went on and on. “WHAT THE HECK!” I yelled. I glanced around getting more irritated by the minute. I got down and stared at the labyrinth of black boxes and wires, pushing some familiar words, turning things on and off and occasionally yelling or hitting the ground. I don’t even watch TV everyday let alone every week so the one time I’m going to be lazy and park it on TV lane – this happens. Nice.
After about 9-10 minutes (which felt like 30) I hear it, the ever so soft sound of a TV remote being eaten. I turned and stared a little longer at the dog. Chew toy? Nope. The remote tucked covertly under his thick black fur with just the tip peeking out between bites.
I grabbed it, put a button or two back on and sent “man’s best friend” to bed. It wouldn’t be “mommy hour” if I didn’t earn it, right?
