Rituals

David is out of town for the week, and before he left, the last thing he said to the children was, "Be good. Mom is going to need a lot of help this week. Don't make her job harder." A kind gesture, but really just a lot of wasted air there.

The kids have been extremely well-behaved. The hours from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. have been a joy. But then they come home, and our daily ritual begins. Here's how it goes:

1. The kids burst through the door with Sabrina yelling about how hungry she is. No one has EVER been as hungry as she is now, and food better appear before her pretty damn quick. I tell her she can get her own, which sets up the attitude she sports for the rest of the afternoon and evening. The others decide they're hungry, too, but seeing which way the wind is blowing quietly go about finding their own snack.

2. I go upstairs to check my email. It doesn't take long for the ruckus to begin. Voices start to escalate. The reasons why vary. Maybe they're arguing over who is to blame for the overturned table. Maybe they're playing Ninja again and someone got karate chopped on the neck. Maybe they just don't like the way someone was looking at them. Whatever the cause, neighbors down the street are starting to consider calling the police because of the public disturbance.

3. I come back downstairs and add my voice to the mix. All three are sent to their rooms with instructions to get cracking on their homework and not to leave their rooms.

4. I play hall monitor and get absolutely nothing done for the next hour and a half, because apparently my order of "Don't leave your room for any reason" is not explicit enough. Someone has to go to the bathroom. Someone else needs a protractor that's in their sibling's room. So-and-so is using their favorite pencil. A stuffed animal needs to be consulted on a particularly difficult math problem. I catch them and send them back to their rooms, and each and every time they are completely surprised they have been apprehended (even though I'm sitting right there keeping watch).

5. Sabrina informs me that once again she is STARVING, and could we please have dinner now? After working all day and then playing referee, I'm exhausted. Plus, I have nothing to eat in the house, so we get takeout.

6. Dinner is finished, but homework still is not. Kids start to get anxious about time slipping away. They have been told if all jobs get done on time, they can watch a Christmas special we had taped earlier. They start working frantically, but too much time has elapsed, and their deadline comes and goes (as it has every night this week).

7. Kids get even more anxious and work even faster, somehow thinking that I will relent and actually let them start watching their show at 9 p.m. When told the answer is no, and they should go to bed now, I get various reactions ranging from negotiation to silent pouts to loud tears.

8. I play hall monitor again, trying to keep the kids in their beds but failing. Somebody forgot to brush their teeth. A stuffed animal was left in the car. Cough medicine needs to be administered. A forgotten homework assignment due tomorrow has suddenly been remembered.

9. I go downstairs, pour a glass of wine, and plop down on the couch, too tired to start the movie I'd been planning on watching. I give up and just go to bed and consider whether to start drinking earlier tomorrow.