Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Multi-tasking

FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
DATE: February 13, 1998
TO: Birthababe@nurserynews.com, BusyBee@BayTee.org, Cafemocha@coffeehouse.com, Cappuccino@coffeehouse.com, Kidsrus@Indyfarm.org, Mamadearest@abc.com, MotherMayI@whynot.com, Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com
SUBJECT: Multi-tasking

I’m not sure if this is an amends-ment to the constitution I wrote you yesterday, or a pre-ramble to the one I’ll write next week, but here I am again.

As I sit here typing, I am being simultaneously affected my many stimuli. I am listening to a song I recorded on my keyboard. My Daughter is playing Mozart on the piano in the living room, and the blind dog is snoring. It reminds me of the time we lived in Ohio. My Husband walked in at suppertime, and found the house in a roar -- literally. My Son was upstairs playing his guitar. My Daughter had left the radio blaring in her room when she went to the living room to practice songs on the piano and flute. The computer was left on in my office because I was writing a song while duplicating a tape from the keyboard. I was listening to a teaching tape in the kitchen where something was burning for dinner. Every time I went to check on the tape dubbing, I would start singing the song coming from the keyboard. When I went to check on dinner, I’d start singing the theme from Lion King that My Daughter was playing. The TV was on in the den, and I didn’t know My Husband was in the house until I walked right into him on my way back to the living room to remind My Daughter to watch for B flats. He was mouthing something to me, but I motioned for him to hold on while I answered the phone. Does anyone else live this way? I’m not sure if we’re healthy or if we have adapted to organized chaos.

My son and I worked on a term paper for seven hours Sunday afternoon. He must pass senior English in order to graduate high school. I thought I would simply be typing from his notes, but somehow he had forgotten to take any. He also forgot to read the book that he was to report on. Minor details. I sat down and composed seven pages of B.S. (brilliant stuff) on a book neither of us had read. We only had five sheets of printer paper in the house, it’s Sunday night, and the report is due tomorrow -- no panic.

I think I’ve strained my brain. Why do kids wait until the last minute and expect someone to bail him or her out? Because, they can! My Daughter is the worst about this, but she’s also the luckiest person I’ve ever known and she glides graciously from one self-instigated crisis to the next. She can make things appear and disappear better than Houdini. I’ve seen her lose and find the same item three times in one week, always in the nick of time. For instance: the first time we went to the mall this week, she didn’t have enough money to get the designer shoes she wanted. I thought, “Now she’ll have to clean her room and do her chores so she can earn money to buy the shoes.” She started cleaning her room by gathering her laundry. She found the $32 in the pocket of her jeans. When the mail came later that day, her grandmother had sent $20 for Valentine’s Day, so we went back to the mall to buy the shoes. She only needed $57 total. She begged me for $5, but I held firm hoping to get her room cleaned this month. She opened a coupon book I had in my car and out pops a coupon for 10% of any purchase at Shoe Carnival. Not being a complete ogre, I took her to Shoe Carnival and wouldn’t you know it, the shoes she wanted were on sale, in her size. With the 10% coupon, she actually came out with money in her pocket; money that she will probably lose tonight and find next week when she wants to buy new jeans.

I hear the ice cream truck. Gotta go for now!

Spressy

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