Tuesday, January 5, 2016

An Instrumental Lullaby Would Be Just Fine

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom should not cry herself to sleep at midnight-thirty because there are not enough hours in the day for her to accomplish her tasks!

She is no slouch, after all. Arising at the stroke of 4:50 a.m. to pack lunches, shower, try to chair-nap, lay out clothes, balance the checkbook, and write out checks for bills or the #1 son’s needs, then drive to work for the first day back after Christmas break, and serve duty before and after her full workday, plus attend a meeting in which she was kept after with six cronies with orders to create a new strategy to prepare pupils for the compulsory ACT given to every high school junior in the state on April 19th, and drive 45 minutes back home with a stop to pick up prescriptions, and spend one hour cooking supper and cleaning up the dishes, while answering the phone for Farmer H, and sending The Pony to track him down to arrange the trench dug that he had left a message about, but stopping to look up the number because Farmer H and The Pony do not know how to find a number on the phone, choosing EDIT rather than SELECT, then find time to eat and attend to her blog needs, while discovering that The Pony, in trying to put his newly-gotten drivers’ license in his wallet, discovered that he had lost his billfold, cueing the Mansion-entering Farmer H to criticize Mrs. Hillbilly Mom for voicing her disbelief at The Pony’s life skills, before reclining to try to watch part of her DVR Shameless marathon, of which she did not make it through one complete episode before nodding off, then ascending to the main floor to toss in a load of laundry at 11:45, only to see a fresh set of dirty dishes created by Farmer H, which necessitated washing her SECOND sink full of dishes within her 19-hour day, and then looking high and low in the dark and light for The Pony’s lunch bag to get ready for the next day, and discerning that he had lost THIS lunch bag too, along with the one he left at school in his locker over the Christmas holiday.

So stress-relieving, those midnight-thirty tears, while Farmer H and The Pony (and the #1 son somewhere) sleep the sleep of the clueless.

If only Mrs. Hillbilly Mom had heard the sound of the world’s smallest violin to play her to sleep…


Sioux said...

HM--You know me. I'm always willing to heap sympathy on you.

Can you hear it? I'm a'playin' a tune for you right now. I took violin lessons with my 3rd graders (a few years ago) so it might not sound the best, but it IS sincere...

Kathy's Klothesline said...

"A man works from sun to sun, a woman's work is NEVER done." Sad but true.

Hillbilly Mom said...

It sounds like it needs to be accompanied by a clogging dance in mismatched Crocs.

That's why women don't build as many sheds.