And the saga continues

The adventures continue. Drew is climbing the walls and causing large chunks of my hair to go missing. Luckily, Brandon (in his effort to prevent paying for wigs or hair implants) has coughed up the money for day camp which he will be starting on Monday. In addition to day camp, he will have swim lessons at least twice a week. We connived to completely exhaust him by nightfall each day. I might get to try hosing him off and then just dumping him into bed. Fingers crossed!

Somehow, I brought the heat of Louisiana with me and the temperatures for the last few days have been at least ninety. I need not tell you that I did not sign up for that! Plus, while I have escaped the humidity of New Orleans, the sun is glaringly bright here and a mere twenty minutes in the sunshine sans sunscreen puts me on the melanoma most likely list. Sunscreen has become a staple in my baby bag and the girls even know to assume the position when I whip it out.

I have finally finished unpacking most of the house with the exception of my four billion books which are residing in the garage until I can get Brandon to release more funds to me for bookshelves. He has been extraordinarily tense this week which led to our first fight since my arrival in which I called him several profane words and stormed off to bed. This was my logic:

"Fight with me, will you?! Fine, you &*^%%&*! I'll just go to bed and get more sleep than you!! AND I WON'T make you any breakfast! Take that!"

It was precipitated by his frustration in my desire to have some help when he got home as I have been surrounded by children FOREVER NOW and unpacking with twins is only slightly less hellish than packing with them. Additionally, I have been having some problems with my sciatic nerve and am gimping around the house like Quasimodo, except with larger bags since it seems to hurt mostly at night, thus interrupting my beauty sleep. At this rate, I'll need to go into a two week coma just to approach previous cuteness. I have ambitious plans to go to a chiropractor sometime in the next week if I am not totally bedridden by that point.

His tension resides in the fact that this part of his training culminates in a massive final to determine his certification to shoot nefarious individuals legally in Colorado. This final is less than fourteen hours away and I can see the vein twitching in the side of his head, as he contemplates the three binders and notebooks he must know prior to exam.

In true Gaylene fashion, I have managed to open mouth and insert foot in a new place. Of course, I did not do this to an ordinary individual. No, it must be someone of prominence and significance in the community. It all begins with my dragging my sweet, pliable children to the Parks and Recreation Center at Lincoln Park in order to enroll Drew in summer camp. As you can imagine, they sprang from the car, in a neat row, singing "So Long, Farewell" in perfect harmony and waited for me to unwrap my silken pinafore from the seat belt, before marching, still in a row, up the sidewalk. In reality:

Me: Drew, come hold Abby's hand while I get Savannah out of the car
(Abby falls on the grass in a convulsion, mouth gaping in the silent scream prior to the real one.)
Drew: MOOOOOOMMMMMMM! She won't get UUUUUUPPPPPP!
Me: Drew, just stand by her, okay? If she tried to walk away, hold her hand.
(In response, Drew bends down and grabs her by the arm as she rolls in the grass, desperately trying to escape."
Me: Drew! You don't need to hold her! Just stand by her!
(Drew continues to hold her arm as his seven-year-old selective hearing is once again engaged.)
Me: Drew!!!
(By this point, I have gotten Savannah out of the car and am approaching this beautiful scene.)
Me: DREEEEWWWWW!!!!!
Drew: (look of innocence) What?
Me: LET...HER....GO!!!
(Upon release, Abby springs up, still whimpering at her mistreatment, and runs over, trying her best, to yank my skirt to my knees. At this point, I again wished for that elusive black hole as it quickly began to slip. Stupid elastic waist.)
Me: Okay, guys. Let's go that way. There's the door.
(I herd them up the sidewalk and into the double doors - one screen and one wood. Savannah realizes that I have released her from the car seat only to take her into another environment without toys and..)
Savannah: NOOOOOOOO! (falling to the ground so that I am forced to pick her up by the waist like a sack of grain)
Savannah: NOOOO! NOOOO! No inside! No inside! (the clarity of her rage begins to be lost in her sobs. )
(The office is quiet with multiple women staring at me and Savannah's flailing body. After she attempted to clock me in the face for the fifth time, I just put her at my feet and let her roll around in her feigned agony.)

The lovely YOUNG woman who was handling all my questions and aiding me in disposing of Drew for the week seemed unperturbed by the chaos as Abby began to whine and clutch at my skirt again. I assume she's from a big family or that she was merely reminding herself to take her birth control everyday until that memory faded from her brain. As we were trying to wrap up the swimming conundrum (dueling times), a tall police officer entered, followed by a immaculately dressed brunette. The women greeted him as "Chief" and I, no slouch at the powers of deduction, realized he must be Brandon's Chief. Being the shy, delicate flower I am, I waited about two minutes before blurting out, "You hired my husband." Keep in mind, Abby is still whimpering at my feet and Savannah has calmed down, aided by the two fistfuls of Goldfish she purloined from my bag. This is a short-lived calm as Drew keeps inserting himself in the Daddy role and every time he tells Savannah "no" her rage is newly awakened. So we have a consistent beat of whining punctuate by shrieks of anger and my voice repeatedly saying, "Drew, you're not the dad. Leave her alone" in a rising pitch of frustration.

Now, I give credit to the poor man. He did not bat an eye at the chaos of children nor my building dishevelment but merely inquired how I liked the town. He also remembered that I am a teacher and have family in Utah.

Him: So, how do you like it here?
Me: Oh, we love it! It's very pretty! Drew, stop messing with her!!
Him: I know he was looking forward to you getting here.
Me: I think he was until all the noise set in. Abby, stop pulling Mommy's skirt.
Him: Well, the only downside is there's no good gumbo here.
Me: (Pay attention. Here is where the foot sticking occurs.) Well, you could always come over to our place and have some.
Him: Hmmmm, thanks.

Now, not that I can't make gumbo. I just do so VERY INFREQUENTLY and my last attempt deserved to be on Worst Cooks in America. The pot didn't catch on fire but it was a close one. I could feel the invitation emerging. I tried to repress it but the words choked their way right out. After that, I gathered my minions and beat a hasty retreat for the car where Savannah in an effort to keep things up to par, ran into the street.

After such a morning, I wanted to go home but had to then brave the grocery store. Do not judge that I fed them Pringles and Oreos until we got to the produce section (my final stop) and Savannah's rabid insistence about 'nanas made me hurry through the checkout line just to strap them back into physical submission.

The natives are making more noises of rebellion so I must go. It is adventurous days such as these that propel me back to the workforce just so I can have FIVE MINUTES OF PEACE.