Working Mom Blues and the Case of the Lucky Chicken

For about 2 days now I've been passed out on the couch, or so it seemed. During that time, I managed to take every book off of our bookshelves, dust and re-arrange them for the upcoming school year. Thanks to Jules, (thanks alot) (yes, you detected an undertone of sarcasm), I was reminded that the school year indeed is looming upon us as if it were the monster from a sci fi. The big shadow looms over the city, you hear the beastly roar, the ground shakes..... you get the picture. And so, with that mental picture in mind, I did the dastardly deed of going through boxes upon boxes of school books and figuring out which ones to pull for the upcoming year.
This is the first time I've EVER been this organized. I almost wondered if I had been cloned by an alien spaceship. Perhaps it was one of those fly by nite, blond tentacled aliens and she returned my mothers obsessively organized personality for my own and vice versa. Only that would explain why I would be thinking about doing this now rather than 2 weeks into September like usual.
After this exhausting and taxing deed, I collapsed into a fit of coma only to be aroused by a still small voice. "Put the chicken in the crock pot". I rolled over. It reminded me again. Finally when I could stand it no more, I threw on some clothes in a huff and stormed into the kitchen.
The next morning, it turned out to be the afternoon. My kind, wonderful and generous husband had taken the baby so that I could sleep. I was dumbfounded to read the clock and too horrified to tell you what it told me. No sooner had I drug myself out of bed than the power went out. Now I am not sure how often the power goes out for city people, but I can tell you that here it is a semi regular occurrence. One never knows when the power will go out or for how long. We've even been known to see it go out for days at a time. Its an inconvenience, annoying and bothersome, but we do some how survive. This time, however, I was very thankful that I listened to the still small voice. Just as the kids began to groan about being hungry, I told them to go check the crock pot. Before you could say "blithering boa constrictors and back biting baboons", the children were happily munching on chicken sandwiches.
It was a rainy day, and the children found ways to entertain themselves indoors. My eldest son, The Archer, practiced blowing his bugle-elk call-thingy. For an hour or more he practiced these heinous sounds from the basement. I will never forget shopping with him in the sporting goods section. The names of these elk calls resemble women with unscrupulous intent! He found great amusement in tormenting me with these Elk call names to which I insisted none of them could co-exist with me in my home! Woe and Alas, one of the unscrupulous female calls tormented me from the basement for quite some time yesterday.
Sock Fashion Expert sat on the couch with her face affixed to pages in a novel pausing only to occasionally yell at her older brother. She had priorly been arguing with The Archer over his choice of movie content. She didn't want him watching the war movie he had on with her little brother around. She had banned her little brother from the living room, and he was sitting at the edge of the room trying desperately to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the show. She was getting after her older brother when the power went off. She smiled a smug smile and returned to her novel feeling fully satisfied that her little brother was safe from unacceptable content.
After Art Dog completed the chore I asked him to do, he spent close to an hour examining baby toys. He discussed these baby toys with me at great length. He studied how and why they worked. He played with them. He studied them some more. He felt quite entertained.
Catman packed himself an artillery of toy guns and took off with his father over to the neighbors place. Catman loves to hang out with his dad and do "man stuff". He planned ahead, telling me that he needed these toy guns "so he wouldn't get bored".
Moonbeam permanently affixed herself to my....well er... she nursed a lot. Since she started teething, that's mostly what she wants to do these days. I threaten that I will quit if she bites. Then I can't stand to hear her fuss and she winds up nursing again. I'm just a sucker or rather she is...except when she bites!!
Before long, it was nigh on time to leave for work. I told the kids to pick a number 1-10. The lucky lad or lassie would be the one to peel potatoes. The Archer ended up with the short straw, so to speak. He peeled potatoes while lecturing me on the evils of my coffee addiction. He was not at all impressed that I was using the propane camp stove for cowboy coffee. Art dog cut up the potatoes since he was bored. Sock Fashion expert helped me put the honey and milk into my cowboy coffee (though she was quite disgusted at being a party to the evil). I some how continued nursing and fried up a the big mess of potatoes with hamburger on the camp stove.
Less than an hour before I had to leave, actually the very minute the potatoes finished frying, the power came back on. Amazed, I enjoyed a hot shower before embarking on my adventure as an Emergency Room RN and Hospital Supervisor working the graveyard shift.