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Oct 15, 2013

A typical morning

Every morning I wake up with my first alarm only to hit snooze and spend those next eight minutes "shopping" my closet for what to wear that day, deciding if I need rain boots, which coat, what accessories, what I need to bring for work, etc.
The next alarm goes off and I jump out of bed.
Not literally, I did that once and tripped over my phone cord, grabbed onto the drapery to brace myself, then took the entire thing down as I landed on my side.
Getting up the past few days has been a bit of a challenge.
See, I took my first hot yoga class over the weekend, and, while I have attended many in the past, it's been a spell since those days.
The instructor had me twisting into different poses that I wasn't familiar with and the chances of me breaking a rib seemed likely.
Needless to say I'm a bit busted.
Like your mom after a busy Tuesday.




Today's morning is not much different than most with one special exception.
My youngest bully has what the science people call Seasonal Flank Alopecia.
This means he loses most of the hair between his shoulders and his hips, on both sides, in the fall.
The science people also say that taking melatonin should help with hair regrowth.
That is a lie.

His hair did grow back in patches on one side over the summer, but he has yet to make a full recovery.
Luckily, it's only aesthetic, and I would love that mug even if he was completely bald.

The hair loss irritates him.

Especially after his exposed skin is in contact with the cold and wind outdoors.
The next hour or so is spent dashing around the house like a crazed banchee.
Wide eyed, chest low to the ground, he is eyeing his next victim from afar.
That would be old man Frenchie.
Crash would rather just curl up and go back to sleep when he comes back inside.
But not with this maniac swirling around him.
Burn really does just want to play.
But the issue is, he is fat.
Twice the size of Crash and twice as chunky.
And he doesn't realize it.

I am in the bathroom applying makeup and drying my hair, and I hear galloping in the next room followed by a warning bark and a loud crash.

Jebus.

I hurry to the next room to break up a potential dog fight only to find the two of them sniffing a glass candle holder on the ground.
Thank the lawd for carpeting.

Burn sees that I am not mad and thanks me by barreling towards me and vagina punching me with his head.
Have you ever been pounded in the coo by a massive head?
Haha. Of course you have.
Skank.

I break up the rowdiness and go about my business.
These two are like children, I swear.
I have not left the room for ten minutes, only to have Crash come dashing under my feet with Burn close behind him.
They are circling each other in the corner of the bathroom.
Seems Crash has a chew toy that Burn just has to have because his brother grabbed it and NOW it's important.

Sigh.

I grab the chew toy.
No one gets it.
One dog leaves.
The other stays in the bathroom.
Doors shut. Time the F out.
Mommy is sweating off her makeup trying to keep these two monkeys in line!
All the while, the cat perches on the stairs.
Watching.
And judging.

And now I'm late.

Psycho furball momma,
TBag. Out.