It’s a Groundhog Thanksgiving

by Alisa Schindler
Originally Published: 

This morning I dragged myself out of bed at 6AM. Getting up wasn’t too difficult, I’m used it. I never even use an alarm. My crazy brain is alarming enough. Anyway, I hobbled to the bathroom, my back feeling like a metal bar bent by the Hulk. That’s the way it generally feels every morning, slightly twisted and broken, but there’s no time for my problems, there’s work to be done.

Over the next 16 hours I will…

Be freaked out when my feather of a child quietly and spookily stands behind me in the kitchen while I make lunches and the rest of the house is still asleep.

Fight because he wants to the play the iPad.

Go upstairs three times to wake my oldest son out of ridiculously deep slumber, before he finally drags himself down the stairs, looks at me and says, “Why did you wake me so late?”

Scurry like a ferret on crack, trying to find said child’s homework assignment that has gone missing.

Negotiate M&M’s or fruit roll up as snacks with youngest son to keep him going to school happy. Lose, and give him both. He cries anyway.

Listen to mom tell me about a serious hair problem.

Fly to the gym for my hour of stress-free time. I will think the entire hour about what I have to do and plan how to fit it all in.

Pick up dry cleaning. Go supermarket.

Call father to check in on how he is doing. He is doing crappy, as usual.

Pull up trash bins. Flip a load of laundry. Find lost toy that I spent years of my life searching for in kid’s pocket.

Wait for bus to drop off first and fourth grader.

Get call from 7th grader that he doesn’t want to walk and needs to be picked up.

Fight with them to do homework.

Fight with them to do it again, when they do it too fast and sloppy.

Hit my head on the table as I’m coming up from picking up the pencil 4th grader dropped on the floor.

Have multiple play-dates over, kids running up and down the stairs, begging for snacks, pulling out every toy on my shelves, whining, complaining, fighting, and finally, thank God, playing Wii.

Hang up on mom still anxious over hair drama.

Make dinner, which kids refuse to eat.

Make another dinner. One kid will eat. One will drop plate on floor. One will cry he wants something else.

Bang head again on table while picking up food from floor.

Sing the tune to Dolly Parton’s 9-5, while children tease each other mercilessly leaving each one them crying at 5 minute intervals.

Say, Bath Time!

Be ignored.

Say, Bath Time!

Be ignored.

Give up for moment and get laundry.

Scream, Bath Time!!!!!!

Be ignored.

Go up close in each of their faces, rip video device from hand and say in menacing voice, “if you ever want to see this thing again, you will get stinky butt upstairs now.”

Watch them run, amused.

Fight with them to get in.

Fight with them to get out.

Watch three naked boys with underwear on head run in circles.

Hubby home.

Watch Hubby eat my first dinner.

Watch Hubby eat left over second dinner.

Say, “Time to read in bed!”

Hear husband say, “Time to wrestle!”

Open wine.

Say again, a half hour later, Time to read!!

Watch, fighting down mounting anxiety, as they jump on top of one another.

Go to freezer for ice cream.

Give very dirty look to husband.

Tuck all children in bed.

Start reading a book.

Be interrupted by children complaining they are hungry.

Try to ignore them and keep reading.

Listen to extremely skinny child loudly moan in hunger.

Cave and go to cut up apples with scoops of peanut butter.

Shut lights.

Say hello to husband.

Pass out on the couch while trying to watch show.

Know I’m going to do it all again tomorrow.

But then remember, it’s Thanksgiving.

Want to cry happy tears.

Thankful that I get to do this every day.

Except tomorrow; We’ll be at my mother’s.


Related post: 10 Excuses For Kids’ Poor Holiday Behavior

This article was originally published on