Preparing for the ‘Doomsday Hour’

The alarm on my cell phone clues me in that the dreaded hour is quickly approaching. “Diffuse oils” and “Take Pill” the two phrases screaming at me when the phone vibrates on my kitchen countertop at 3 p.m. (I am on crazy pills but only because I suffer from medical Pre-PMS issues … no judgement needed!)

As much as I love tapping “Snooze” button, this is one time during the day that I actually allow the alarm to tell me what to do when I’m supposed to do it.

I pop the pill that helps me remain calm right before hell breaks loose. The oils are to help put me in a better mood – lavender, stress away and lemon try to work their magic.

At 3:50 p.m., another alarm chimes “TWINS HOME!” I want to run, scream and hide on my 2.5 acres of land, but eventually, they will find me. They always find me.

But, because I am a stay-at-home mom, I have no choice. I walk outside and sit on a bench, waiting for the yellow chariot bringing my twins to the bus stop at the end of the long-gravel driveway. Off in the distance, I can hear the slow hum of the bus driving down my country road. And then, just as my cat rubs on my leg, the bus slows and I see the red “stop” sign swing open from the side of the bus. The cat runs away. He’s smart because he too knows what is in store for when the duo races down the driveway at warp speed – they will either start talking in unison or reach out to grab him.

And then I am left alone. No cat. No husband. No pre-teen is in sight (He vacated the main level 20 minutes ago and can only be found in the dungeon – or our basement.)

Shuffling the 7-year-old duo into the house is the easy part. The hard, horrible time is yet to come.

Son of a bitch … Homework.

Homework hour is today’s version of hell on Earth.

“I hate it when they get off the bus,” a mother recently told me.

“My kids cry when they have to do homework,” another mom posted on Facebook.

“We spent hours trying to figure out math … and then I made her stop because it was after 11 p.m.,” a friend of mine admitted. “She’s afraid she is going to fail.”

Homework is today’s kryptonite for parents all over the world. It has the ability to make us pull out our gray hair. It is the single time during the day when we wish our kids weren’t born. Every other moment of the day, we love our kids, or at least tolerate them. But homework hours turns even the nicest parents into monsters at the drop of a hat.

As if dealing with homework isn’t enough, the 4 p.m. hour is also when hunger pain strikes. Not just “snack hunger” but full-blown “I-want-a-buffet-in-the-damn-kitchen-now” hunger. Simple snacks don’t cut it. My children want a four-course meal served at the kitchen table on a white table cloth with fine China. Appetizer, soup/salad, entrée and dessert to be exact.

“I just shove food in their mouths,” my friend said. “I just try to feed them healthy foods, not just chips and cookies.”

Son of a bitch …

But let’s be honest, some days, it’s just easier to toss them a bag of Fritos and Oreos. Some days, it’s not worth the fight. Some days, I have no fight left in me. Some days, I just want to pretend this isn’t my life …

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