Die? Vomit? Scream? Run away? Pretend to be in a coma?
Every single day at 4:00 PM, no matter how much I almost had the day under control, I want to gouge my eyes out. Or at least “walk to the mailbox” and keep on walking. New moms call it “the witching hour”; old-timers call it “the arsenic hour”. Babies are fussy at this time of day. Toddlers are insane at this time of day. Grade-schoolers are getting off the bus at this time of day, with all their stress and exhaustion and backpacks full of crap. Husbands are on their way home, but if a momma might get that call that he is running late, it would be at 4:00.
4:00 means that dinner needs to be made. Now. The meal planner is a very flawed system. Sometimes when 4:00 rolls around, the meat isn’t thawed or the twins have peed on the floor. Momma might have a migraine and be unable to look at food. I like to cook, and while I refuse to post food-porn pictures/recipes, we do take real food very seriously. I need some time to do real food. I need to be migraine-free and have all bodily fluids in the proper receptacle before cooking. Don’t get me wrong: I also have an Okayest side of me that will allow for fish sticks (“dick dicks”, according to Twin A) and tator tots (my gateway drug).
In the winter, the sun is starting to set around 4:00, and the darkness is ready to depress us any second. Maybe we all have Seasonal Affective Disorder, because the dark settling in makes us feel like we will never be warm and happy again.
4:00 is when I realize that all the things on my Okayest To-Do List, either penned, typed, or in my head, have not been accomplished. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not like my list includes lofty goals like “put away Halloween costumes” or anything. I just want to be able to unload the dishwasher and get the nearly-moldy clothes out of the washer. Either I run out of time, or the kids have been potty training for a year, or other things moved up the priority list.
All I know is that whatever didn’t get done by 4:00 PM isn’t going to get done at all.
4:00 means the sprint to the end of the day is here. There is no wiggle room from 4:00 PM until bedtime. Get home, make dinner, eat dinner, maybe some baths, and go to bed. My oldest is only in kindergarten, so homework and sports and Cub Scouts have not even started yet. What then?
If only I could drink.
Dick dicks it is!