Archive for the ‘Daily’ Category
April 20 2011
The countdown, it starts ticking ever louder even before the afternoon is over. I peer at the clock between the 67th round of dress-up as the second-hand turns in slow-motion. While I’m winding down, the kids are gearing up. Their voices talk over each other until it’s all just noise. Noisy noise, making my head hurt. Is it time yet?
3 hours: I think I can, I think I can.
Dinnertime, when my two youngest know I’m preoccupied and take advantage of the opportunity. They jump on couches after I warn against and streak through the house at the speed of light. When they’re finally quiet, it’s too quiet. Most likely because they’ve been in the bathroom, splashing in a sink full of water. I spend our meal urging them to sit, to eat, to not throw food on the floor. How much longer?
2 hours: It’s official, this night is never going to end.
Try to regain my wits after the catastrophe of dinner. The kids, however, are always hyped up like I gave them bowls of sugar for their meal. They are a tornado of constant conflict sweeping through, making a mess of destruction in their path. My moment of zen is fleeting and laughable. Cue the tiny violins as I chant curses at the clock.
1 hour: The light, I can see it, though very faint.
Clean up. Baths. Brushing teeth. Diapers. Pajamas. Chaos. Does it ever stop? Gather kids together like a ranch hand herding cattle, with not as much luck. Stare impatiently at the time. Why don’t these kids ever act tired? I’m exhausted. Disheveled. Done.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Bedtime! Sweet, beautiful bedtime. Does it make me a bad mom that I love you so?
April 18 2011
Going to the grocery store is a necessary evil. If I go by myself, it can be a nice break, but it’s still a hassle. If I must go with one of the kids, though, it’s usually Buzz. We try to laugh, we smile at those we pass and Buzz is a friendly sort who waves hello to everyone.
This afternoon, however, there was this woman. She was with her teenage daughter whose face was hidden by an abundance of black eyeliner, arms in a permanent cross every time we passed. Which was a few times. After a couple run-ins, I noticed her sizing up the contents of my cart. And then she looked at me. Not in a friendly sort of way. I then watched as she turned to her already derisive daughter for someone to share in her uppity comments.
What the hell, lady?!
I spent the remainder of our time at the grocery store wondering why this woman looked at me.
- She wanted a piece of my Double Fudge Brownie ice cream.
- My bunch of bananas was taunting her.
- Did I inadvertently lob a can of corn at her head?
- She was upset because my kid is cuter than her kid. And a lot less angsty.
- She was jealous at how awesome I am. And younger. Because these tired bags under my eyes, they just scream young and awesome.
In other words, I have no idea. Though I do know it doesn’t take a lot to be nice, even at the grocery store. Why make a chore no one really wants to do even worse? I’m not all rainbows and puppies here, but smile. Save your dirty looks and snark for another time. Like on your blog. Blogs are great for that kind of thing.
April 15 2011
Dear Kitty,
I know you’re getting up there in age, and that’s why I cut you a lot of slack. You’re over 13 years old, and that’s worthy of a senior citizen discount card as far as felines are concerned. You’re surprisingly still in tiptop health, however. Except for every other day when you wretchedly regurgitate last night’s dinner or hack up a hairball the size of a potato. Then there are the early mornings when I venture in, still sleepy-eyed and stumbling, to step in puddles of your urinary incontinence.
But other than that, you’re just swell.
You are exceptionally patient with the children, though, I must admit. You accept their well-meaning rough-play with barely a flinch. When the boy stands you up tall on your hind legs to dance, you allow it with nary a strike. When he locks you in a room, you wait patiently to be rescued. You will even tolerate their hand in your food dish, manhandling your kibble, so long as you get extra treats in return. Even though you’re just going to throw it all up tomorrow.
After all of this time, however, I would think you would have learned. With age comes wisdom, after all. When you see the little rugrats bolting in your direction clearly on a mission, you really should run. Instead, you are drawn towards the defilement, intrigued by what it has to offer. Like a glutton for punishment. So it’s not that I don’t hear your pleas for help as you’re forcibly tucked and swaddled like a baby in the bedsheets, but I would hope it’s teaching you a clearly much needed lesson.
I might also consider it payback for peeing in my chair.
Sincerely,
The Hand that Feeds You
April 13 2011
Let’s play a game, shall we?
Maybe it’s more of a test. Multiple choice. But I’m sure your kid(s) will think it’s a game.
Say your 4 year old runs to you with a worried expression, flapping his arms excitedly. “Mommy! Mommy!”, he calls for your attention as he darts off. You take the hint and follow as he leads you into the bathroom that you didn’t even realize had been opened. Inside, you eye your not-so-innocent 2 and a half year old daughter standing stoic in nothing but a diaper, dripping wet toilet plunger in hand like a staff. A few other items are scattered nearby, thankfully nothing toxic. From the sound of the tank filling again with water, you can hear that the toilet had just been flushed. You look in the bowl to find the soggy remnants of:
a.) A full roll of toilet paper
b.) Your watch
c.) The television remote control
d.) A Spiderman action figure
e.) A handful of unopened pantyliners
f.) Your child is an angel who wouldn’t dare think of tainting anything with toilet water, because you’re a wonderful mother who has worked hard to raise your child right. Where’s that Mother of the Year award?
If you chose f., congratulations. However, if your answer is e. in this instance, you next are:
a.) Angry
b.) Relieved
c.) Fearful at the possibilities of what they might have also managed to plunge down the drain before you walked in.
Answer key: There are no right answers.
April 04 2011
We ventured to every parent’s worst nightmare this past weekend; Chuck E. Cheese. Where a kid can be a kid, and the mom is dragged around just to insert tokens. It’s like slot machines for tikes. Which I dutifully obliged, so long as I got in a game of skeeball before we left.
A garlic-enfused cardboard-crust pizza, a terrified encounter with a giant mouse, a couple interrupted games of skeeball, over 500 tickets and 3 hours later, the cup of Chuck E. gold was finally diminished. No sooner did my riches run dry, however, than Abby climbed into her favorite little kid car ride that’s meant to bop along at a snail’s pace and wouldn’t get out. When Jedi reaches into his pants pocket and emerges with a single shiny coin clenched in his fingers.
“Here, she can have this one”, he offers, selflessly handing over his last token to make his little sister happy. I even double-checked, to make sure I understood his true intentions. It’s not that he’s ever knowingly unkind, but he would normally need a nudge, or a full-throttled yank, for such charitable behavior. With all of the games he could have played, though, he said instead, “Yeah, I want her to have it”.
Now doesn’t that sound like a wonderful big brother? It’s enough to make a mama proud.
Until later that night when Jedi walks in on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have wasted my last token”, he sniffles. “The next time we go to Chuck E. Cheese, you need to find my coin and give it back to me.”
That’s more like it.
