Best Laid Plans . . . and all that

God has a sense of humor. I love Calvin and Hobbes so he gave me a son just like Calvin. Yesterday was a perfect example.

Being a Monday (following a Sunday where I had a serious discussion with my husband about schedules, etc.) I had mapped out my day, determined to stick to my schedule and get back on track after last week pretty much being a wash.

My son is not a morning person. Thus, I write in the morning. Usually, about a half hour before I’m ready to call it quits, he begins to rouse from his catatonic state. Now, at this point, he’s been awake and out of bed for about 3 hours. But he hasn’t really been functioning. Which is to my advantage.

So yesterday morning, I’ve almost hit my word count, need about 300 more words, when he comes in. “Mom. I’m hungry.”

“Finish your breakfast on the table.”

He comes back two minutes later, jam smeared on the cutest little cheeks. “I want a snack.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. I’m almost done.” I’m in the middle of a scene. I know where I’m going. It’s flowing. I don’t want to be interrupted.

He goes off and does something. I don’t know what. I’ve got 40 words left. With my mom ears I hear him climb on the kitchen counter. “Get down.”

“I’m making a sandwich.”

Great. “Get down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hear the sound of the toaster lever plunging, followed shortly after by the scent of smoke. I’m out of my chair and around the corner. Smoke is billowing out of the kitchen. I mutter a few non-CBA approved words. My son is climbing off the counter, rubbing his eyes. “I was making a sandwich.”

Smoke’s pouring out of the toaster but no flames. I unplug it and carry it out back, tossing it on the patio. Now the house is filled with the acrid scent of burnt toast. I hate burnt toast. I can see smoke swirling around the rooms, heading toward the ceiling. All I need is the smoke detectors to go off.

I start opening windows and turn on the ceiling fan. I go to open the patio door when I notice the toast is no longer in the toaster. The dumb dog has eaten all four pieces of charcoaled bread, probably burning his doggie lips in the process. I’m surprised he didn’t eat the toaster.

I finished my word count, then we went to Sonic for lunch. At this point, my schedule’s only off by about half an hour.

That was okay until about 1:30 when my e-mail went down. Again. I wait a couple hours, trying all my various trouble shooting techniques on the different computers in our house. Nothing. Finally I call Cox. They can’t figure it out either. Great. I love being a conundrum. After about an hour they finally figure it out and I get back my e-mail and my lifeline to the world outside my house.

Of course by this time I’ve forgotten to start dinner and the whole afternoon and evening schedule is shot.

Ah well. There’s always tomorrow.

Um, that’d be today.

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22 Comments

  1. Jennifer–this was hilarious! I can sooo relate…only I got twin Calvin's. Still, the merriment is there. Hope you've cleared out the smoke smell and teh dog survived. LOL

    Saw your website, too…you went to Saddleback–not that you'll care–but my husband's cousins go there. LOL

  2. Peter

    Mike

    I concur, but you forgot to add that the floors are supposed to be swept and mopped, the laundry is done, and the newspaper is on the table right next to the leather reclining chair, with my favorite beverage waiting for me. Oh, did I mention that my tired feet needs a massage?

    Hey ladies, I'm already in trouble, so why not pour it on? Besides, we all know that being at home with the kids is a piece of cake! 😉

    And like Mike's wife, my wife hits very hard, but she can't make much of a fist, because her hand is cramping from all the WRITING she's done today! (Plus I'm quicker than her!)

    Lastly, if you're new to this post, I say all this with a sense of humor. My wife is the asBESTos. And my son gets his "Calvinism" from me!

    …sniff, sniff. Oh oh. Do I smell something burning? GOTTA GO!

  3. Peter

    Mike

    I concur, but you forgot to add that the floors are supposed to be swept and mopped, the laundry is done, and the newspaper is on the table right next to the leather reclining chair, with my favorite beverage waiting for me. Oh, did I mention that my tired feet needs a massage?

    Hey ladies, I'm already in trouble, so why not pour it on? Besides, we all know that being at home with the kids is a piece of cake! 😉

    And like Mike's wife, my wife hits very hard, but she can't make much of a fist, because her hand is cramping from all the WRITING she's done today! (Plus I'm quicker than her!)

    Lastly, if you're new to this post, I say all this with a sense of humor. My wife is the asBESTos. And my son gets his "Calvinism" from me!

    …sniff, sniff. Oh oh. Do I smell something burning? GOTTA GO!

  4. Home ec, Mike? Your age is showing. And if you and Peter take over my blog again, well, let's just say Peter's going to be eating PBJs for dinner.

    And he's allergic to peanut butter.

    My son definitely gets all his Calvinistic qualities from his dad. And that sentence is just begging for a comment on predestination, but I'll resist the urge.

  5. Home ec, Mike? Your age is showing. And if you and Peter take over my blog again, well, let's just say Peter's going to be eating PBJs for dinner.

    And he's allergic to peanut butter.

    My son definitely gets all his Calvinistic qualities from his dad. And that sentence is just begging for a comment on predestination, but I'll resist the urge.

  6. LOLOL…I can SO relate! I've learned to try and hold to my schedule, but to adapt when life (aka my 3 yr old) interrupts! 🙂

  7. LOLOL…I can SO relate! I've learned to try and hold to my schedule, but to adapt when life (aka my 3 yr old) interrupts! 🙂

  8. LOL. Jen, this is hilarious! Good for you, you got what you needed to get done, despite little Calvin.

    Hope the e-mail is a permanent fix this time, you've been having way too many problems with it.

    Peter and Mike…all I have to say is look what the ratio of female to male are on this blog. Mike, we can always start talking female things on your blog again. Hmm, streaks vs. highlights anyone?

  9. LOL. Jen, this is hilarious! Good for you, you got what you needed to get done, despite little Calvin.

    Hope the e-mail is a permanent fix this time, you've been having way too many problems with it.

    Peter and Mike…all I have to say is look what the ratio of female to male are on this blog. Mike, we can always start talking female things on your blog again. Hmm, streaks vs. highlights anyone?

  10. Oh Michael, you are so busted. LOL! Just kidding. You kinda sound like my hubby, who's a Michael too. Biggest Calvin I have ever met in my life. No wonder his daughters think of him as a big play toy. LOL!

    Love this post, Jennifer. Nice movement and action. I was right there at the keyboard with you…literally.

    LOL!

  11. Oh Michael, you are so busted. LOL! Just kidding. You kinda sound like my hubby, who's a Michael too. Biggest Calvin I have ever met in my life. No wonder his daughters think of him as a big play toy. LOL!

    Love this post, Jennifer. Nice movement and action. I was right there at the keyboard with you…literally.

    LOL!

  12. You go, boy!

    Whatever happened to those Home Ec classes where they taught the women to meet their men at the door with our slippers and our pipes, the children all bathed and tucked into their respective corners, and a steaming six course meal on the table?

    (Please, don't anyone show this to my wife. She's pretty, but she hits really hard. Thanks.)

    Anonymous

  13. You go, boy!

    Whatever happened to those Home Ec classes where they taught the women to meet their men at the door with our slippers and our pipes, the children all bathed and tucked into their respective corners, and a steaming six course meal on the table?

    (Please, don't anyone show this to my wife. She's pretty, but she hits really hard. Thanks.)

    Anonymous

  14. Hmm. And your point is?

  15. Peter

    I don't care how much sympathy my wife gets on this blog. The fact of the matter is that dinner was not ready when I came home, and that was/is unacceptable!

    Wor male chauvinists! (I had to ask my wife how to spell chauvinists – big word 4 me 🙂

  16. Peter

    I don't care how much sympathy my wife gets on this blog. The fact of the matter is that dinner was not ready when I came home, and that was/is unacceptable!

    Wor male chauvinists! (I had to ask my wife how to spell chauvinists – big word 4 me 🙂

  17. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I fear that I'm the Calvin in this house.

    As a matter of fact, I'll be right back….

    …coffee maker is OFF. Cool.

    Funny story, Jen.

  18. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I fear that I'm the Calvin in this house.

    As a matter of fact, I'll be right back….

    …coffee maker is OFF. Cool.

    Funny story, Jen.

  19. He sounds so much like my Tanner. LOL. Actually, I'm impressed with the word counts you put out there. I've told you that before. When you get in a groove, you just go.

    Imagine when he's in first grade! Wow, there will be no keeping up with you.

  20. Make that "when he's grown." Thanks.

  21. I'm impressed you get any writing done with a Calvin in the house. Heck, I barely get any done, and I only have to deal with my scattered selves.

    I had a Calvin, too. You'll miss him when he grown. 🙂

  22. I'm impressed you get any writing done with a Calvin in the house. Heck, I barely get any done, and I only have to deal with my scattered selves.

    I had a Calvin, too. You'll miss him when he grown. 🙂

Comments are closed.

Best Laid Plans . . . and all that

God has a sense of humor. I love Calvin and Hobbes so he gave me a son just like Calvin. Yesterday was a perfect example.

Being a Monday (following a Sunday where I had a serious discussion with my husband about schedules, etc.) I had mapped out my day, determined to stick to my schedule and get back on track after last week pretty much being a wash.

My son is not a morning person. Thus, I write in the morning. Usually, about a half hour before I’m ready to call it quits, he begins to rouse from his catatonic state. Now, at this point, he’s been awake and out of bed for about 3 hours. But he hasn’t really been functioning. Which is to my advantage.

So yesterday morning, I’ve almost hit my word count, need about 300 more words, when he comes in. “Mom. I’m hungry.”

“Finish your breakfast on the table.”

He comes back two minutes later, jam smeared on the cutest little cheeks. “I want a snack.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. I’m almost done.” I’m in the middle of a scene. I know where I’m going. It’s flowing. I don’t want to be interrupted.

He goes off and does something. I don’t know what. I’ve got 40 words left. With my mom ears I hear him climb on the kitchen counter. “Get down.”

“I’m making a sandwich.”

Great. “Get down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hear the sound of the toaster lever plunging, followed shortly after by the scent of smoke. I’m out of my chair and around the corner. Smoke is billowing out of the kitchen. I mutter a few non-CBA approved words. My son is climbing off the counter, rubbing his eyes. “I was making a sandwich.”

Smoke’s pouring out of the toaster but no flames. I unplug it and carry it out back, tossing it on the patio. Now the house is filled with the acrid scent of burnt toast. I hate burnt toast. I can see smoke swirling around the rooms, heading toward the ceiling. All I need is the smoke detectors to go off.

I start opening windows and turn on the ceiling fan. I go to open the patio door when I notice the toast is no longer in the toaster. The dumb dog has eaten all four pieces of charcoaled bread, probably burning his doggie lips in the process. I’m surprised he didn’t eat the toaster.

I finished my word count, then we went to Sonic for lunch. At this point, my schedule’s only off by about half an hour.

That was okay until about 1:30 when my e-mail went down. Again. I wait a couple hours, trying all my various trouble shooting techniques on the different computers in our house. Nothing. Finally I call Cox. They can’t figure it out either. Great. I love being a conundrum. After about an hour they finally figure it out and I get back my e-mail and my lifeline to the world outside my house.

Of course by this time I’ve forgotten to start dinner and the whole afternoon and evening schedule is shot.

Ah well. There’s always tomorrow.

Um, that’d be today.

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