another day in the life…..

What a great family day the 5 I’s had a week ago Saturday (don’t worry – it was a typical 5 I’s family day… hang in there – the swearing really picks up by the end).

We had a unicorn day – we’ve heard about days like these… we just never actually see them.  I was off, Dan was off and not a single kid had a single obligation.  If  you’re like us (and most people are….) do yourself a favor and find a way to have  a unicorn day.

So, we finally got the opportunity to sleep in a little… wouldn’t you know that bitch April the giraffe decided to have her baby on this very morning.  Long-legged, neck-bending asshole…  I’ve watched her and her dumbass non-progressing pregnancy for 7 weeks.  Every day for 50 plus days I pulled her up on Youtube by 6am… the ONE DAY I sleep in… she starts pushing that thing out.

I came downstairs to about 75 messages on my phone… ok… maybe not 75 – but I had some people blowing up my phone.  I pulled up Youtube just in time to see some hooves (hoofs?) and a baby giraffe head sticking out of April’s nether region… uhhhhhh no coffee, I’m good thanks….  Abby was already up  (and loudly conversing with whoever the hell it is that she talks to constantly… you think I’m kidding about her……) so Dan raced back upstairs to wake the other two.  It cracks me the hell up that they came running down….

The 5 of us sat huddled around my laptop watching for almost 2 hours – pushing, pushing, pushing, birth… holy hell… somebody should warn a person about that.  As a previous birth-specialist who only had C-sections, I gotta say – the stuff that followed that baby giraffe out was…… ghastly.  Why in God’s name would they show that?  Who decided that camera was a good idea????  yyyyuck.

Anyway, by 11:30 or so I’d had enough.  I asked Cal  (who mentioned -a few times- that as a pitcher, he needed to run at least once during the weekend ) to accompany me on a run.  He was not even remotely interested.  He was just slightly more interested after I suggested some cleaning in lieu of the running.  Dan chimed in with the idea of a family bike ride… asshole.

dear God I abhor biking.

Alas, my kids love it and Dan loves it and I needed to get some pedaling in so… off we went.

The trail is quite beautiful – serene and calming… or at least it might have been if we’d’ve left Abby at home.  Honestly, you’d think we keep our kids tethered to their beds by the way they acted on that trail.  I kept shouting, “you do realize you’re going downhill… seems all fun and games right now… til we hafta go UPHILL to the car.”  It was kinda heartwarming to watch them enjoying themselves so much (it was also a little satisfying knowing their asses were gonna get kicked when we turned around – all they had to do was respect my knowledge and experience….).

We went 1.5 miles downhill then turned and went 3 miles uphill… Alex was way ahead, Cal was behind her (looking like a fool on his too-small bike) Dan, was slightly in front of me and the Abbers.  Poor Abs – her bitchin’ Barbie bike was not really made for 3 solid miles of 1% grade… when she decided she’d had enough, Alex was not altogether unhappy and quite frankly, I’d put my bike in 21st gear for resistance so I certainly wasn’t trying to convince her to go further…

This was us – excited to be heading back downhill:

When we turned around the kids took off – Dan was laughing as he struggled to catch Abby and her Barbie bike… She was all hunched over the handle bars, swaying side-to-side, pedaling her little hiney off.

I waited a little bit to take off – partly because my legs were toast after biking uphill in the highest gear but mostly because I had a perfect view of my family, enjoying themselves and each other.  My entire life has been spent trying to win, trying to be out in front – but lately I find myself hanging back, putting myself in a position to watch my family – without question – it’s way better than winning. (ok, truth be told – I do, with all my heart and soul, love watching my family but I’m old, I’m chubby, I’m tired… my kids are kicking my ass all over the place, the ‘I love watching my family’ bit, while true, is also a great ego-saver).

After squandering part of the evening we started coloring eggs.  There’s so much to say about this endeavor…  First and foremost it needs to be said that my life with Dan Iseminger has been a 22-year saga of unfulfilled good intentions.  We have an entire cabinet dedicated to board games because Dan wants to be a game playing family; 15 years into having kids and we have yet to play a single board game… He goes ballistic when I suggest we donate the games.

I adore his optimism… wait… that’s not completely true… his inability to foresee the havoc that is about to be wreaked is fucking irritating as hell.  Three kids –  we’ve had 3 kids for a helluva long time – how does he not KNOW there is a potential asshole hidden inside each of them?  How does an intelligent man with 2 college degrees think it’s ok to get 3 different styles of egg coloring kit?

The arguing started almost immediately – because not only did Sir Moron get 3 different egg coloring kits but only 2 of them had an egg dipper included – 3 kids, 2 egg dippers – fuckin A man… fuckin A.

Oh, did I mention the brains behind the operation was the 10 year old?  She took all the instructions out of the boxes – she did not, however, keep the instructions together with the boxes or dyes – no, we had 4 sets of instructions (with only 3 kits… I don’t get it either) each different… each.different.  Think about that for a moment – 3 kits, 4 different sets of instructions??????  Spread out all over the table with no discernible sense of organization…

I get it – I’m a control freak… and nobody likes a control freak but dammit all – I keep things organized and controlled.  The oil-swirled eggs might not have been perfect with me in charge but son of a bitch… they would’ve at least picked up some color.  The 24K egg kit seemed fun.  After allowing the dye to dry we were to sponge the gold onto a WARM egg.  I’m sure, somewhere in the mess, was instructions for making the egg warm after dying but how the hell would I know.  Dan got some warm water (heated on the stove) and brought it out to us (incidentally – this was Dan’s entire contribution to the egg fun – that asshat sat back totally disengaged while I struggled – me… the one who didn’t even want to color fucking eggs).

Cal dipped his dyed egg into the warm water to prepare it for the gold overlay.  Between Dan and I we have 4 college degrees, 2 of which (1 each) are science based, yet we didn’t anticipate the warm water washing the egg clean…

I was tired, I didn’t want to dye eggs in the first place, Dan sat there with no intention of getting involved and things weren’t going well.  The arguing over egg dippers started it all..  I may or may not have dropped the F-bomb regarding the negligible cost of egg dippers and gosh darn it why would they only put one in each kit.  One kit had liquid dye; we cut the corner off (at the dotted line) and attempted to put 2 drops of dye into the included plastic baggies – it was like somebody dumped a gallon of paint in… who are these fucking kits made for?  With each consecutive bad egg – I was getting angrier and angrier.  I may or may not have said, “You gotta be Martha fucking Stewart to make this crap work… why can’t we just go back to food coloring and plastic spoons?”  my kids asked, “Who is Martha Stewart?”

30 eggs later… and I was so incredibly over Iseminger egg dying night… I knew the fun was over when Cal, using the wax crayon, made a blue egg that said, ‘I hate my life’…  Dan, you know… the guy who started all this fun… said, “I’m gonna go take a shower – just leave this mess, I’ll clean it up later.”  asshole.  He KNEW I wasn’t gonna leave it….

The kids showered and went to bed happy – worn out from biking, contented from egg coloring, knowing a chocolate booty was mere hours away.  Dan got back to his egg-coloring nap while I showered…  clearly my suggestion to start the basket process went unheeded (“I didn’t know what you wanted me to do” – not surprising, this is the same nimrod who thought it was a good idea to dip freshly dyed eggs into hot water).

We got the baskets set out, grass, jelly beans, candy, small gifts… the standard deal; then I said, “Where’d you put the chocolate bunnies?”

“What chocolate bunnies?”

“The bunnies I handed you at the store today; I put them in the bag and handed them to you because Abby was riding with me…”

“hmmmmm maybe still in the car.”

Chocolate bunnies, closed up in a car on an 81° day…

“I’m going back to the store – we might have more bunnies.”

“It’s 1:30 in the morning… let it go – they don’t need them, they have plenty.”

“It’s Easter, you can’t have Easter without a chocolate fucking bunny rabbit!”

guess what?  we had Easter without one chocolate fucking bunny rabbit…

It’s days like these that make me realize, I never want to quit my more-than-full-time job.  I’ve said for years: I love my kids… part time; twelve solid hours with these people is maddening.  They complain, they whine, they bitch, nothing is ever good enough… damn Iseminger blood.

I had slept off my disdain and was excited to wake them the next morning – still, after all these years, I’m excited to wake them every morning (5 minutes in, I’m looking for vodka but initially I’ve got all the feels); we made plans to kayak later in the day… another day of togetherness, another day of bickering, another day of ego-saving-family-watching hanging back… and all I could do was smile…….