journal

Cractpot Challenges

So depending on which experts you talk to, today might, or might not be, Blue Monday.  It is the third Monday of January and according to a part time tutor connected to Cardiff University and his fancy looking math equation, is considered to be the most depressing day of the year. math Other mathematicians claim this is pseudoscience but keeping in line with a life long desire to avoid math at all costs, I have gathered my own collection of evidence. 

1)Monday’s suck. 

2)The shine of the Christmas season has all fizzled out and the middle of January has nothing to offer in the name of celebrations. 

3)The weather is gray and cold up here in the Northern Hemisphere and my immune system has finally lost the fight against the constant onslaught of germs that my children keep smuggling into the house since going back to school. 

I’m curled up on the floor by the fire shivering and feeling miserable, desperately trying to call in sick to work.  I had already slacked off for most of the day at my full time job as parent/housekeeper.  I found a coworker willing to fill in at the job I actually get paid for.  Now all I needed was for someone to cover my paper route. 

Now why would a grown women have a paper route?  The same reason she struggles with Grade 6 math homework, argues over the structure of a persuasive essay and involves herself in the dramatic social standings of a bunch of high school students.  Because I am trying to teach my children independence but I am telling you, the effort required to NOT do their work, is equal to that of just doing it your damn self. Where is a part-time tutor and a fancy math equation when you need it?

The youngest Cractpot paper carrier had been procrastinating for at least an hour.  My shift should have started half an hour earlier with gentle reminders and uplifting motivational speeches but I just wasn’t feeling it.  All I could muster from the floor was step by step instructions. 

Step 1) Get your boots on

10 minutes later he threw himself down on the floor beside me to complain that the lined insoles were wet.  I reminded him that he should have put them over the vent last time he wore them (as reiterated every. single. time. we come in from outside) but he claimed he hadn’t worn them recently.  After a quick calculation of the energy required to completely blow a gasket I decided instead to guide him through a memory exercise to mentally retrace his steps and determine how then they might have gotten wet.  He arrived at the conclusion that his sister must have taken them, somehow squeezed her size 8 feet into his size 5 shoes and then hobbled around in the snow just to spite him.  Obviously this must have occurred at around 2 in the morning due to the lack of witnesses.  I moved to dismiss the charges but the defendant stubbornly submitted exhibit A.   The aforementioned boots were shoved under my nose, because, interesting fact, wet boots smell weird. I told him to put the (physically bit my lip to stop from swearing) boots over the vent to dry (so that the distinct odour could permeate the entire house) and find the extra pair of boots I keep on hand for just such emergencies and return to Step 1.  

10 minutes later he is explaining that he cannot find where he has put his extra pair of boots, most likely because he didn’t put them away properly last time he wore them.  I save my breath because I’m sure his sister is probably to blame for that as well because what kind of master minded villain would sabotage a pair of boots without first taking care of the back up plan.  Part of my duties include finding stuff (specializing in items that are behind and under things), so I pick myself up off the floor to conduct a search.  After looking behind benches and under seats in the car I am no closer to finding the boots but I have matched up 3 pairs of mittens and located half a dozen missing socks.  On a fluke I decided to look in the proper place and when I found them, I couldn’t help but wonder if Cractpot Junior even had any idea where the away place was,  and I made a mental note to revisit housekeeping 101 with him just as soon as I was feeling better.il_340x270-1013986765_ctua I drop the boots onto his lap and crawl back to the warmth of the fire. 

10 minutes later he’s back to clarify that the original boots weren’t actually that wet.  I swear to you, I don’t care if his footwear spontaneously combusts at this point, just put them over the vent and get your @#%&! newspapers done.  He then begins to angrily demand that I feel the shoes that I have already had to smell and determine their wetness on a 1-10 scale.  I just want him to put on the extra pair of boots that I went to the trouble of finding rather than wasting any more time conducting experiments on insoles that I had zero desire to investigate in the first place, so I rather sharply yell at him to stop procrastinating and FOLLOW STEP 1. 

He sullenly disappears down the hall, and , you guessed it, 10 minutes later I hear him trying to tip toe out the door. TIP TOEING in his stupid wet/not wet boots that we have wasted half an hour of our lives discussing that we will never get back. I am only a little ashamed to say that I spent Blue Monday wrangling a 10 year old boy to the ground, wrestling off his footwear and scrambling to the patio door to chuck them out into the snow. 

I am now 100% sure they are wet. 

I am also a horrible parent. 

My only defense is that due to the fever and general weakness I feel that we were competing in the same weight class.

So, if you live in our neighbourhood and are waiting for your paper, all I can say is perhaps on Blue Monday, no news is good news, however if you’re desperate for something to read, feel free to come over and take a peak.   Just don’t trip over the boots that are lying in the snow.  

T.

Procrastination is like masturbation. At first it feels good, but in the end you’re only screwing yourself. ~Author unknown 

 

Advertisements

17 thoughts on “Cractpot Challenges

  1. “I am now 100% sure they are wet.” , I laughed out loud at this time and everyone around me are now staring at me, as am typing this comment, I can’t get the smile out of my face and show the am-busy-at-work face!

    Hilarious !

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Brilliant! But sorry you’re not well 🤒 It’s hard enough herding kids when you’re healthy but when you’re ill they seem to redouble their efforts to discombobulate as well as procrastinate. Feel better soon 💜

    Liked by 2 people

      1. I’m not actually sure how many of them stayed home. The eldest I’m going to say probably did. She is the only one who actually takes the bus to school. The younger three are all driven by their mother. I will find out when I arrive at work at 2:30 haha!! But I will be packing some extra activities in my bag just in case! Ipad is charging, I have 6 books in there (mini ones) and tower of bunnies. They all LOVE tower of bunnies. lol

        Liked by 2 people

  3. As the kids get older the rules of our board games get more complicated. The new one we just bought is called 7 wonders. Beautiful art work. Super fun. But it required an entire weekend studying the rules TEXT book before I could then teach everyone else how to play. As if anyone could ever convince me that parenting isn’t a full time job with lifelong learning potential!

    Like

  4. Love this. It brought back memories of my own similar “smell this” transgressions. I can still vividly recall the time I discovered a carton of milk had spoiled. So rather than washing out the carton and tossing it, I left it out on the kitchen counter for my mother to find. I remember thinking that seemed important at the time (she was not amused). This could be a little boy thing, I’m not sure.

    “[A]ccording to a part time tutor connected to Cardiff University…” (love that too, btw). – Marty

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I never could have anticipated the large number of times parenting has required me to play the, “What is that smell” game? Incidentally, it always feels like I lose :s

      Like

  5. “Part of my duties include finding stuff (specializing in items that are behind and under things).” I am known as ‘Mummy, Finder of Lost Things.’ It always amazes me how many of said lost things are right a) where they should be, or b) in plain sight. Blows my mind.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Or when you tell them the lost thing is in the closet and they ask, ‘where in the closet?’. Are you kidding me? It’s a 4 ft by 2ft space? (then again, it’ not like my husband is much better)

    Like

  7. Just found your blog and love it!

    Our life is EXACTLY the same. Except my wife and I don’t have children, I’m a 43-year-old househusband, and she thinks it’s wrong for me to get the mail in my socks when its snowy outside.

    I’m obviously right, and she’s obviously a bad wife. So thanks for giving me the critical evidence I needed to prove my point.

    You rock

    Liked by 2 people

  8. No you don’t!!! While I can still wrestle my 10 yr old to the ground, my husband proves more difficult. I usually have to call on ALL the children to help and even then we struggle to pin him to the ground. Tickling helps. The more he laughs, the weaker he gets. So keep laughing Mister and we’ll get those wet socks off you yet! 😉 P.S. Beautiful art work on your blog! So striking ❤

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s