5 o'clock Somewhere

Ahhh, 5 o'clock.  Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet sang a song about it.  Dolly Parton was in a movie about it. (Come on, admit it; you've watched "9 to 5" at least once!)  5 o'clock is that mystical time of day when workers kick up their heels and head out on the town for some good timin' fun.  The banks close (well, some of them still do), evening officially begins, and people everywhere breathe deep sighs of relief as they leave the office and head for some place quiet and restful...  Or at least, that's what I'm told other people do.

5 o'clock at our house usually looks more like this:

 

5 o'clock is the time of day that finds my youngest and only daughter, whose digestive system seems to run on "Early Bird Special" time, making irrational food demands such as "Waffle!" or most recently; "Notha one off dwop!"  Roughly translated that means, "Give me another cough drop or I'll rip things off the walls and throw the barstools across the kitchen!"  (Yes, that seriously happens.  For a slightly built two-year-old she harbors surprising amounts of brute strength.  It's rather like watching The Hulk rip out of his clothes and turn green.  Disturbing, yet you can't look away.)

                                                                       Hulk smash.

5 o'clock is the time of day my eldest and only son decides he REALLY NEEDS to play a computer game, because he's only had like two and half minutes to play the computer all week!  (The five-year-old part of me sometimes shouts, "NOT TRUE!")  5 o'clock is also his cue to 'remember' that he 'forgot' to do all of his chores, then subsequently have a meltdown because he doesn't have TIME to do them now, he's busy playing Curious George games and he CAN'T pause them, he doesn't know HOW!!

                                                              Chores?  What chores?!?

What am I doing at 5 o'clock you ask?  Oh, I'm that blur in the background flitting back and forth between trying not to burn whatever is on the stove, herding children and dogs out of the kitchen so they don't burn on the stove, picking up the pretend kitchen paraphernalia that it was necessary for the children to get out so they could 'cook' dinner but forgot to pick up when it was done (plastic play knives can really hurt when you step on them in bare feet).  I am the one sweeping up that pile of crusty stuff in the corner, scooping the Thomas trains back in the basket, wiping that ever-naked rear end, and putting the dog out because she was sitting on the kitchen table yet again...

                                       What do you mean I'm not SUPPOSED to be up here?

Sometimes, I take a time-out from all that hard work to save a baby doll that mysteriously got stuck in a tree.

Other times, I pause, take a deep breath, and say a quiet prayer that goes like this, "Serenity now, serenity now, serenity now," because someone (I won't say who) decided 5 o'clock is much too late to eat dinner and they MUST HAVE SNACK NOW.

It's okay, don't apologize.  You probably didn't see me.  I was moving pretty fast.  Because 5 o'clock is my time of day to realize I haven't actually sat down all day and I forgot to eat lunch.  It's the time of day when I use every last ounce of my willpower to keep from making that ever-tempting and oh-so alluring second pot of coffee.  It's the time I usually shout to no one in particular, "WHY IS THIS FLOOR SO STICKY AGAIN?!?!"  Then I pointedly ask my beautiful daughter where she hid the mop this time, go into the back yard, wrestle it away from the dogs, remember I haven't fed the dogs, throw the dogs some food, then realize someone dumped the dogs' water out in the back doorway, get the dogs some water, come back in the laundry room, realize the laundry in the washer needs to be switched to the dryer, switch said laundry, put the white clothes in the washer (and make a mental note to come back and put the bleach in later - HA!).  At this point, I stop and stare bemusedly at the mop in my hand, trying to figure out why I have it.  During this 30 second interlude of quiet puzzlement, I hear a sizzling sound.  Dinner.  I put the mop down, step through the sticky stuff, check the pan on the stove that is now making ominous hissing noises. (Chicken breasts always hiss when they're good and done; didn't you know that?!)  Tell the kids dinner is ready and no, it's not waffles and cough drops.  No it's not hot dogs or baloney either.  Sit down and eat it anyway and we DO NOT throw rice.  We DO NOT let the dog eat off of our plate.  We EAT the chicken, not put it in other people's drinks!

By this time, an hour or more has passed and Daddy has called to say he's on his way home.  (Insert sigh of relief here.)  I'd raise my glass to all of you who are living it up at 5 o'clock (I picture you in a sunny place, drinking something fruity), but my glass of milk is covered in cough drop slobber and it's collected a few 'floaters', which look suspiciously like chicken, so I think I'll take a pass this time.

However, after dinner is over, baths are finished (that's a story for another day), and Daddy is FINALLY home...this is my reward:  

  And 9 times out of 10, I all but forget about 5 o'clock...that is, until tomorrow.

 You want my advice for the 5 o'clocks in life? See the humor.  Savor the moment.  And know there will be times that require a second pot of coffee.