Unless you’re in an ugly contest

The entire contents of #5’s room are spread out over the living room. The Puggles are a mess about it. They go back and forth between climbing the mountain of clothes on the couch and stamping their feet at us because everything’s different.

The reason for this is that we’re painting #5’s room. And by we, I mean everyone in my family except for me.

I walked in there today and the girls were painting each other, not fully hip to just how hard it is to get wall paint off one’s person. And hair. Ah well, they know now.

Casey was wagging her whole self at me and I rubbed her ears and said, as I often do, “You are too cute!”

To which #5 replied, “You can never be ‘too cute’. Unless you’re in an ugly contest.”

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I made it to the day off again, end of my second week of my extra job.

I had noticeably less energy today than I did last week.

Also, far less patience.

But I went to yoga. We made popcorn and milkshakes and are watching Harry Potter Two: The Chamber of Secrets. I’m blessed that my husband did laundry so that I don’t have to go to the shop naked tomorrow. I’m lucky as hell that I got the day off today anyway.

Here’s why I didn’t have to mix my show today:

Thanks for doing Sunday’s shows so I can have a day off and not be an entirely hateful human being. These pictures are from the shop build that we’re doing together. He’s Vato’s dad, the teacup chihuahua with the bark control collar that #5 liked so much.

He’s a rack-building ninja. And a hand model.

Also? I was totally coveting his baby drill there. I loaded my current show in so long ago that even power tool technology has lapped me. Most stagehands in New York, even if they’re running a regular show, will pick up extra work building shows like this or else loading in those shows into the theaters. I did some of that, and then I got a bunch of kids. I’m finding myself having to replace a lot of work-related things (tools, work boots, pants I can actually work in- uh, not to mention underwear). Though I was pleased to discover that my old tool belt fits me again. I outgrew it for a couple years.

And Lo, the new Makita!

I haven’t been this worked up about a power tool in a long time. I think I may turn my old DeWalt over to #5.

I have a feeling he would like that.

Reality Check

So I’ve started work on a new show. Right now we’re getting all the gear together at the sound shop during the day. Daytime I’m in the shop, and at night I mix my old show. If I felt ineffective and absent as a parent before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now, and I’m only three days in.

I take Sundays off from mixing the old show so I can have a day off. I know myself. If I don’t do that when it’s possible, life sucks. I need a day off. Sue me.

We’ve got some budding athletes in our family. It’s a genuine treat (rare and enjoyable) when we can get to one of their games/meets/matches. Because of the extra work right now it’s nearly impossible to get to one. My guilt is directly proportional to my availability.

I started my day today by getting more than five hours of sleep. I followed that with not having to drive over the George Washington Bridge. Made a last minute appointment to get some PT on my shoulder. Hung out with kids and puppies. Ran errands. Went to Bikram Yoga with #1, which was way cool (and she didn’t even make me go on the opposite side of the room from her). Came home and started getting dinner together and pondered the rest of the day. My list of must-do’s was far longer than the hours remaining.

#3 had a basketball game tonight. She’s on the middle school travel team. While I was ~~cooking dinner~~ heating up food she asked me if could come to her game.

Me: I don’t think so, sweetie.

#3: Awww. Pleeeese?

Me: I really don’t mean to blow you off, but I’m working two jobs right now. This is my only day off and I’m trying to do the things I need to do to be okay. There aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything, you know? You know how I can get.

#3: (with a knowing nod and a sigh) Yeah, I do.

Me: I’m trying not to get like that.

#5: You mean fat?

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For the record, I sacked my must-do list and we watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone while having popcorn and milkshakes, thereby negating my one and only workout this week. It was totally worth it.

Because I’m posting from work.

One night I was putting #5 to bed and, as always, he was talking.

#5: Hey guess what.

Me: What.

#5: I know why all those great inventors weren’t very nice people to work for.

Huh. Not what I was expecting him to say. The statement begged a thousand questions but I asked only one. Well, more of a prompt than a question.

Me: Oh?

#5: Yeah, because they were so busy inventing things that they never got enough sleep.

I looked at him for a minute.

Me: Are you saying that because Daddy and I get cranky when we don’t get enough sleep?

#5: Yes.

And there you have it. This conversation came back to me recently because I’m halfway through serious-badass-Nikola Tesla’s biography by Margaret Cheney Man Out Of Time, and among all the many other mindblowing things I read, there was a bit about the AC/DC (the current, not the band) wars.

So you have your Thomas Edison, by anyone’s standard, a great inventor. He’s a proponent of Direct Current and is actively working to make it our country’s electrical standard. Then you have Tesla, kind of a whippersnapper by Edison’s standard, but a brilliant inventor except no one remembers who he is today because he was a terrible businessman and also didn’t get around to patenting most of his inventions. He saw the flaws in the DC system and developed a better, stable Alternating Current system. The war was on. Edison began a smear campaign to malign AC. Tesla couldn’t be bothered. He just kept inventing stuff and making his AC sexy.

I live in New Jersey, as did Edison. Edison, as part of his smear campaign, was paying school boys to kidnap puppies basically in my neighborhood, and then he would electrocute them with alternating current, to prove how dangerous it is. Not in secret, publicly. Because we’re both New Jersians, I believe I am not out of line when I call him a douchebag. I mean, thanks for the light dude, but. . . yeah.

I have to conclude, based on this conversation with #5 who gets his information from perhaps the same genius realm as Tesla or else bacon-and-video-game-induced trances, that Edison was seriously sleep deprived.

Hey, so Christine at Quasiagitato took one of my posts and we did a Mad Lib with it. It totally cracked me up and you should go look at it. I refrained from using “boobies” for every plural noun, even though I wanted to. Click here for her post.