I Am Listing My Whole Family on eBay

I am up at 6 a.m. to give myself time to have a cup of coffee and read the newspaper in peace. I am hoping for an easy morning and a smooth exit on my way to the office.

My first day back in an office after years of writing from home.

But it is too late, Boy Esq. is already ahead of me, up and at the computer, where he is doing something that has nothing to do with the pressing homework assignment he presents to me the instant my bedhead appears on the staircase.

"Good morning," I say.

"I need a school picture of me, a recent one," he says.

"Okay," I say, before beginning a drawer to drawer to search for the pictures. I have a vague recollection of not having any school pictures for this particular child for the past couple of years because of my repeated failures at backpack document maintenance. But that doesn't stop me from looking.

At 6:15 a.m. I move my search to the basement spider habitat, where I uncover a slow-moving brown variety and a blue plastic storage bin near the bottom of a dusty stack.

By 6:30, I have the bin out and am going through 10 years worth of photographs. They were so little, weren't they?

By 6:35, I locate a batch of not-too-dated school photographs and I bring one up to the office, where Boy, Esq. is still absorbed in something still completely unrelated to pressing assignment.

I present the photo to him, but he barely looks up before rejecting it. "It needs to be photo size," he says. The photo I'd handed him, although clearly a photo, was about 3x5 inches and so, for reasons that are not explained to me, is not going to work.

But I'm not a total sap. Love it or leave it, I tell him, and manage to get the newspapers off the front porch with 20 minutes to spare before child 2 has to be roused and brought downstairs against her will.

Ten minutes later, Boy Esq. has a new assignment for me. "I need you to take me to school early today. I have orchestra and I have to be there early."

We engage in some friendly back and forth re: riding his bicycle, but it is determined that there is no possible way he can manage his backback and his violin on his bike like he did all last week when it was his friend asking him to ride.

I run to get a quick shower in so that I can take him to school with hair that is not completely vertical. My quality grooming plans are dashed, but what the hell, I am going to a newsroom, not a banking office.

I get my daughter up by 7:05. She complains of a sore throat. I make her lunch, her breakfast and hot tea. Mr. Kamikaze is still sleeping, convinced that because I have to go across town this morning - on a predetermined route I have carefully mapped out to avoid surprises - I can make a detour across the entire length of Michigan Avenue to chauffeur him to work as well, giving him a little extra shut-eye.

I get Boy Esq. to school by 7:45 a.m. Return home to find daughter in full bloom of fever, headache and sore throat. Shh! Daddy's still sleeping. The coffee is cold.

9 a.m. I call in my excuses to the office. See you tomorrow, career!

But wait, here is something even more ironic:

Mom parlays pack of kids into writing career they will ultimately destroy.

Photo: www.careerbuilders.NOT By Rick McCawley