The Tuesday Hustle....
(begin humming lyrics and music to... "Do the Hustle..." NOW)

Tuesdays suck.

That's right... for our family, Mondays are always awesome. We get up, have a little breakfast, do a little teeth brushing ... and we're off... and usually on time, too! Drop em' off at school, go to said school of choice for the day - work - come home - chill.

Tuesdays, however.... whoa Tuesdays.

The tension starts as soon as the last bell at Dobbins Middle School rings. I can feel my nerves fray almost automatically (I guess for my nerves, this is a defense mechanism at this point in my life), I get hungry, thirsty, and rush out to my car. Off to pick up the tired and cranky Jordin from daycare.... and find her with the 30+ other "afterschoolers", who range in age from preschool to fourth grade.... I gather her as quickly as possible from the monkey pit that is their classroom, and rush her into the bathroom... begging her to go potty NOW rather than later, I resort to a shameful parenting tactic... bargaining....

"If you go potty now, (and not pee in your pants or otherswise later) then you'll be all ready for dance... and mommy will just have to find you a treat."

Shameful, I tell you. Downright shameful.

The ever so cooperative (imaginge that) Jordin puts a three gallon size bladder's contents into the potty - and we change from school wear to dance wear. After asking Jordin three times to take off her shoes and socks, and reassuring her that it's really ok to wear panties under your leaotard, we bundle up and rush out the door.

I am breaking some sort of speed limit, I am sure - but we make it to dance by 4:35, and I am really not sure how.... Jordin skips back to rehersal room, and I chat it up with the other mommies for ten or so minutes... get comfortable in my chair....

OH MY... I FORGOT SARAH BETH.

She usually gets gathered up pre-arrival at the dance school.... in between daycare and dance. However, today - thinking I would save myself some time and skip some traffic - we went the back way.... no traffic - but hey, no eight year old daughter, either! OOPS!

Rush back to McGarity and pick up SB... the wild, Ihavehadwaywaywaytoomuchfun during ASP kind of SB. She comes to me with her shoes off, her hair in a complete mess, and unable to make silence for any length of time. (sigh... the day gets longer and longer, I think)

Throw SB in the car and threaten her life - her tv priviledges ... you know - the odl, getyourshoesbackonandputyourhairbackrightnoworelse routine... run over to Target, return too small pants of Jordin's that have been screaming my name for almost a month now... get the whiny SB a snack of any edible substance.... and go back to Dance School.

Play "hide and seek" game involuntarily with Jordin for almost half an hour - pull her out of costume closet, missing one shoe and drag her to the car. Ever cheerful, elated Jordin talks nonstop the entire way home (all ten minutes of it), starting each sentence with "Guess what Mommy," and sometimes breaking the rule of using a "guess what" within a "guess what."

Peeling my nerves off the windshield, I tow both children home - pull in the driveway and ask both girls to gather THEIR things from the car. You would think I have asked Jordin to catch the moon with a fishing pole - she suddenly becomes very insulted that one might ask a princess to carry so much her two bags in the house. This starts a downward spiral into the wails of "I want my daddy," a usual cry for help amongst children of divorced parents complete copout.

After situating children with grandparents, I grab my bible study stuff and fly out the door to make the twenty minute + drive into almost Rockmart to bible study. And you KNOW I am so relaxed when I get there....

Anyone wanna trade?


Rachael