Can I Bitch Now?

Saturday, 10:30 a.m.

Seated in the fifth row of carefully aligned chairs at a funeral home in Sandusky, Ohio, surrounded by my cousins and my mother's family, contemplating my grandmother's still form, i held tight the only one of my babies that she ever met. The serene gray-haired minister raised her hands at her sides in a beseeching "w," turned her face to heaven and began gravely, her eyes falling to meet my mother's eyes, "we are here today to commit Helen to peace ever-lasting."

My grandmother's name was Beth. The woman committed to peace everlasting on the previous day was Helen. Surely, a higher power has it all straight.

Sunday 12:30 a.m.

In a classic, unfortunate lapse in judgement, I was still drinking with my cousins in a dungeon-like side room of an ancient Sandusky restaurant called the Rathskellar. They taught me the word "fupa." If you would like to make a classic, unfortunate lapse in judgment of your own, you could google that.

Sunday, 5:00 p.m.

After several hours with Nate in the Akron airport with little to do but eat and stare at each other, we visited the restroom one last time before our flight home. I wheeled him into the larger stall, finished, flushed, washed my hands, fixed my hair, felt like I was forgetting something. I had my backpack. Still felt like my hands were too free, looked around, realized I left my baby in the handicap stall, retrieved stroller and baby, tucked tail between my legs and busted my ass out of there.

Monday, 1:00 a.m.

After a long day of travel alone with Nate, nearly abandoning him in a small airport restroom, unloading our tired butts from the last airplane, hauling ourselves out to the car, loading the car, driving home, unloading the car, and putting Nate to bed, I had to clean the kitchen and the dining room.

No, there's nothing funny about that. Matt.

Matt cleaned out my entire filthy minivan. I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere about differing priorities and men v. women, mars, venus, blah, blah. I'm not to the humor in this one yet.

Monday, 9:00 a.m.

Preschool. With all four children. It was a laugh a minute, let me tell you.

Monday, 10:30 a.m. (while at preschool with all four children while I'm supposed to be working)

My cell phone rang which never, ever happens because everyone who knows me knows that I never have my cell phone with me; if I do have it with me, it's dead or I don't hear it; if I do hear it I don't realize it's mine; if I do hear it and realize it's mine I'm dealing with my 101 dalchildren and I don't feel like answering it. It wad Cruella De Ville wanting to buy a child or two and I gladly...no wait, it was the local news! They wanted to cover hArt for Haiti on their morning show from 5-7 Tuesday morning. Could I please be at Kid Sports at 4:45 a.m., ready to be interviewed every 25 minutes or so for two hours?

Sure, I could. Matt would absolutely love to cover everything all day Tuesday while I pretended I was a real person with things to do and stuff.

Monday, 11:30 a.m.

Errands. With all four children. The hilarity continued.

Monday, 3:00 p.m.

Waxing of bakini area and brows. Otherwise known as ripping hair from delicate regions with tape. Seriously? This is the shit I pay a babysitter for?

Monday, 6:00 p.m.

Preschool board meeting. The fate of the new blinds in the Rainbow Room hung in the balance. You want my life. Admit it.

Monday, 8:30 p.m.

My friend, Elise, who has been trained in TV appearances for real purposes, because she is an expert in protecting women in refugee camps, and because she is awesome and because I am an absolute basket case because OMIGOD did I just agree to be on TV at 5:00 in the morning? turned her expertise on my "three point message" for hArt for Haiti. 1) Come 2) to Kid Sports 3) for Haiti. We practiced. I was capable of spitting out my three word message.

Monday, 11:00 p.m.

I finished all the stuff I had to do and took a shower.

Tuesday, 12:00 a.m. - 4:00 a.m.

I failed to sleep.

Tuesday, 4:00 a.m.

Alarm. I may have fallen asleep five minutes ago. With heart pounding, I dressed and primped for my TV debut.

Tuesday, 4:40 a.m.

As I grabbed my keys, the phone rang. There had been a stabbing. Could we make it 6:00?

Tuesday, 4:50 a.m.

The stabbing was nothing, could I be there by 5:30?

Tuesday, 5:30 a.m.

I was there. I may pass out from nervousness and hunger.

Tuesday, 6:00 a.m.

The were finally about to cut to us. I stood on the fake grass of the indoor playing field with a huge bouncy castle behind me, a very, very sweet, supportive reporter standing inches from my face, and a blinding light in my eyes. I felt kind of dizzy. I croaked out that I wad really nervous. Erik told me not to worry, no one watches the morning show. No, really, he assured me, we have tons of stats on it, alot of people listen to it, but they're busy getting ready for their day and they aren't watching. I felt strangely better.

I spat out my message. I didn't pass out.

Tuesday, 6:30 a.m.

This is actually kind of fun.

Tuesday, 7:00 a.m.

I am rocking the two minute interviews.

Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.

I should have been a TV reporter.

Tuesday, 7:45 a.m.

At home, helping with breakfast. Could it really possibly be only 8 o'clock in the morning?

Tuesday, 9:25 a.m. - 2:30 p.m.

hArt for Haiti. It was amazing.

Tuesday, 3:00 p.m.

Total quadruple children melt down. I put on a movie and collapsed on the couch. I should be packing.

Tuesday, 5:00 p.m.

Saw myself on the evening news. I wad pale. I moved my head funnily when I talked. Strike all above regarding my new career in broadcasting. Saige looked adorable. Brat.

Tuesday, 6:30 p.m.

All children in bed. I should be packing, but I'm playing on line.

Tuesday, 8:55 p.m.

Chocolate chip mint ice cream with hot fudge sauce. I should be packing, but I'm playing on line.

Wednesday, 7:00 p.m.

Children in bed. Finally packing.

Thursday, 4:00 a.m.

Woke children and head for airport. O. N. E. Checked bag. Six people. Four children. One checked bag. Am most awesome packer in the universe.

Thursday, 5:30 a.m.

Security. Four children. Deep regret of one checked bag has set in.

Thursday, 6:30 a.m.

Boarding plane to mexico. Six hours and two planes of entertaining my children. Someone kill me now.

Thursday, 7:30 a.m.

Frontier airlines stewardess activated our t v s for free. She was angel on earth. Commence Dora marathon.

Thursday, 9:30 a.m.

There is no Starbucks in the Denver airport. THERE IS NO STARBUCKS IN THE DENVER AIRPORT! Alert the media. Mother of four goes insane in Denver airport from chai withdrawal.

Thursday, 3:00 p.m.

The warmth. The sun. The breeze. The two hour drive with four exhausted cranky children.

Thursday, 6:00 p.m. - ??

Mexico. Waves crashing. Breeze blowing. Drunk blogging.

See you soon, but not too soon.

XOXO, stacey