Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Every morning, from the second I emerge from my room, I am bombarded. Srulik tantrums. "Mommy! Get me dressed!" I tell him, gently, that if he wants mommy to dress him, he needs to wait. He continues to scream. Meanwhile, I have to hustle Chaya and Rivky out the door for school.

Rivky is a dawdler (slow to adapt?). She wakes up and lolls around in bed. "Rivky! You're going to miss your ride!" The pressure mounts. Every few minutes I pop in and remind her the clock is ticking (a love and logic no-no). One time she's sitting on the floor contemplating her navel. The next time she's standing on her bed staring at her aleph-beis poster.

Srulik is screaming his head off and I finally decide I'm going to get him dressed. This would be fine, if he wasn't doing his dance routines. Zalman starts wailing, and Srulik is fox-trotting between tzitsis and shirt. I was ready to abandon him and rescue the baby, but that would make everything much worse. Srulik, in a jealous rage, would start screaming anew. I preferred listening to Zalman.

(Despite the morning-madness I have made two breakfasts and one lunch.)

I finished dressing Srulik and ran to prepare baby food for Zalman. He's screaming like a lunatic in his exersaucer. I finally put my hands on my head and Tarzan-roared; "I can't do everydamnthing!!!" I immediately felt ashamed.

Rivky missed her ride. (I am trying to figure out logical consequences). Meanwhile, I have abandoned everything to sit down and write this sorry story. The baby is content on the floor now and Srulik and Rivky are drawing. To salvage my self-esteem, I did have ONE shining mommy moment: Chaya stuck her tongue out out me. My index finger whipped out for an angry lecture, but instead I stuck my tongue out at her and tickled her.


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My Photo Name: Fancy Schmancy Anxiety Maven
Location: Chutz l'aretz - Outside of Brooklyn

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