........is fear itself. Well, that might not be entirely accurate. But it's close. I am not scared of the dark, or spiders & snakes & creepy crawlies. I am not afraid of speaking in public or heights. I am not afraid of ghosts or aliens or axe murderers. Scary movies, roller coasters and such don't faze me a bit. (Once again, this is for my friends who live in my computer!) My one true fear is completely idiotic and irrational.
I am absolutely terrified of embarrassing myself. Not that I mind 'making a scene' it's more like 'making a spectacle.' The worst thing I can imagine is humiliating myself in front of people, whether they be friends or strangers. I just know that I am going to burp or fart or throw up on my shoes or something. It doesn't even have to be someone with power or authority or someone who intimidates me. It can be my neighbor or the clerk at the dollar store. The idea that I am going to do something stupid or embarrassing or worse haunts me.
After having a conversation with someone where things didn't go quite right (for whatever reason - possibly real, possible in my own overactive imagination), I will replay that for days. Analyzing everything I did or said and physically get the shakes thinking about it. I know it is completely irrational, and even a little egotistical. I mean, come on Amanda. Not everyone cares so much about you that they are going to remember you said/did that. But the fear plagues me anyway.
The fear of embarrassing myself is constant, but it only effects my life in small ways. I can not use a public toilet for 'longer' visits. What if I stink it up or make nasty noises or something and someone walks in and it smells really bad and they know it was me?
I cannot leave the house if I am feeling even slightly upset to my stomach. What if I need to find a restroom suddenly and can't? What if I can find one...and that just leads me back to me first point of probably not being able to use it anyway. What if I throw up on my shoes?
I cannot eat a large meal, especially at a restaurant, and then go on with my day. What if I get gas? What if my breath is raunchy? What if I suddenly get food poisoning and throw up on my shoes? (Can you see that throwing-up-on-my-shoes thing is the biggest?) Basically I won't go anywhere on a full stomach. If I have something to do at 6 pm that requires me to be out of the house for a few hours, I will not eat after about 10 am. Just in case.
I have a lot of trouble walking alone across open spaces in front of lots of people. What if I trip and fall? Who cares if I fall, what if I just stumble? What if my pants are sliding down and my butt is showing and I don't notice? What if I just look plain stupid? Will they laugh? You wonder why I wasn't Homecoming Queen? I would have had to take that walk across the football field with thousands of people watching me. (Who cares that I wasn't nominated to be HQ, because even if I had I couldn't have done it)
It's not that I can't eat in a restaurant or use a bathroom or walk. I just don't want to embarrass myself. And that's what it all comes down to. It doesn't matter. I just know I will do something humiliating and people will remember and talk about it and I won't be able to forget it and it will stay with me forever and keep me up at nights and then I get even more embarrassed. I told you it was irrational.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Lady in waiting...
....and waiting and waiting and waiting.
I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.
So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.
Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?
The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.
Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.
Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.
Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.
Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.
So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....
I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.
So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.
Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?
The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.
Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.
Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.
Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.
Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.
So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....
Monday, March 24, 2008
Not to brag....
...but I sure do like me. I am always busy, yet I never seem to get everything I want done. I am always tired, but then I feel guilty for going to bed early or sleeping in. I spend hours in the kitchen, but dinner sometimes feels half-assed and there's always one more dish in the sink. I can speed-fold the laundry, but one more load is always waiting in the dryer. I spend hours working with the boys on their school subjects, and they're still behind their grade level.
That said.....I do like me. I like my life. I like my husband and kids. I like my house. I like my work-at-home job. So for my ehellion friends behind my computer screen, here we go......
I like me because I know:
I am not the tallest, but I am not the shortest.
I am not the smartest, but I am not the dumbest.
I am not the skinniest, but I am healthy.
I am not a supermodel, but I am not ugly.
I am not a vigilant house cleaner, but I don't live like a slob.
I am not a comedian, but people always laugh at my jokes.
I am not the most athletic, but I can teach my kids to play ball.
I am not the busiest, but I am not lazy.
I am not a gourmet cook, but I am creative in the kitchen.
I am not super frugal, but I am great at finding deals.
I am not the most gracious person to walk the earth, but I am not a total bitch.
I am not drowning in money, but I am not drowning in debt, either.
I am not Super Mom, but no one else is either.
I am not the greatest friend one could hope for, but I am a good listener.
I am not the perfect sister/daughter, but I am there when they need me.
I like me because I can laugh at myself. I can make the darkest situation slightly better. I am the one you hear laughing *not disrepectfully* at the funeral. And making others laugh as well. I drive an old beater and make jokes that I wish it was stolen so I could get the insurance money. I have rolled dimes to buy gas while I have money for the kids birthday presents in the bank. I have bought gifts and cards for my family and friends when there was absolutely no reason or special occasion except that I like to make them smile. I cook dinners for people home from the hospital or with new babies and then serve frozen pizza at home. I have worn the same pair of boots for 5 winters while my kids get new cleats for every baseball season. And I actually like all that about myself. It's what makes me the Best & Worst. And it's what makes me -me-
That said.....I do like me. I like my life. I like my husband and kids. I like my house. I like my work-at-home job. So for my ehellion friends behind my computer screen, here we go......
I like me because I know:
I am not the tallest, but I am not the shortest.
I am not the smartest, but I am not the dumbest.
I am not the skinniest, but I am healthy.
I am not a supermodel, but I am not ugly.
I am not a vigilant house cleaner, but I don't live like a slob.
I am not a comedian, but people always laugh at my jokes.
I am not the most athletic, but I can teach my kids to play ball.
I am not the busiest, but I am not lazy.
I am not a gourmet cook, but I am creative in the kitchen.
I am not super frugal, but I am great at finding deals.
I am not the most gracious person to walk the earth, but I am not a total bitch.
I am not drowning in money, but I am not drowning in debt, either.
I am not Super Mom, but no one else is either.
I am not the greatest friend one could hope for, but I am a good listener.
I am not the perfect sister/daughter, but I am there when they need me.
I like me because I can laugh at myself. I can make the darkest situation slightly better. I am the one you hear laughing *not disrepectfully* at the funeral. And making others laugh as well. I drive an old beater and make jokes that I wish it was stolen so I could get the insurance money. I have rolled dimes to buy gas while I have money for the kids birthday presents in the bank. I have bought gifts and cards for my family and friends when there was absolutely no reason or special occasion except that I like to make them smile. I cook dinners for people home from the hospital or with new babies and then serve frozen pizza at home. I have worn the same pair of boots for 5 winters while my kids get new cleats for every baseball season. And I actually like all that about myself. It's what makes me the Best & Worst. And it's what makes me -me-
Hey! Bunnies don't lay eggs!
This is a story about my Easter woes. But to tell you about Sunday, I have to tell you about Saturday.
I am fairly active in my church. Even though I am not in a position to donate hugely in a monetary way, I volunteer a lot of time and effort. To make sure there would be a nice variety of food for the Easter lunch after services, the ladies who wanted to participate drew foods from a hat rather than having a typical pot luck sign up. Two ladies and myself decided to work together in my kitchen Saturday morning. I drew baked beans, another drew potato salad and the third drew 'hot dessert.' Fine, good, nice easy stuff. Each of us also volunteered to hard boil 3 dozen eggs each. There is a movie night for the kids on Saturday night, and we were going to let the older ones color the eggs (the younger ones were painting wooden eggs....we were smart about that!). Those eggs would then be used as part of the egg hunt Sunday afternoon.
So that's how my Saturday went. I was busy, but I was happy. I've been in a bit of a slump lately, and working constantly took my mind off of things. Saturday night it was my Sister-in-Laws turn to shuffle the boys to movie night. Afterwards, we did our own egg coloring and by the time we sent the boys off to bed, I was dead on my feet. But I managed to put the kids baskets together and tidy the house up. It is well past 1 am by the time I get to bed.
Easter Sunday! Yeah, hoorah! Wait...I forgot I was an adult and there was no basket with 2 lbs of sugar waiting for me. Ah well, I can steal some from the kids. We do our own little mini egg hunt and the kids dig into their mounds of sugary delight. I notice my toddler is playing with a (now cracked) egg and sort of picking at his basket. He is glassy eyed and has a fever. Joy. Because of a minor heart condition, he gets really high fevers with no notice and no other symptoms. They spike quickly, like within 10 minutes, and get up to 101 or 102 degrees. Scary, but I have learned to handle it pretty well. My Darling Husband could handle it, but he gets nervous. I decide to stay home. I call another mom, who agrees to pick up the kids and my dishes for church.
After 2 hours or so, Toddler is feeling better. The fever has come down, but he is still a bit lazy and listless. I decide to try and hit the end of church services and be on hand to help during lunch and the egg hunt. I arrive at the church at the tale end of the sermon and manage to sneak into a back pew. Then I head down to the kitchen to help if I can. Now, the deal was that some of us drew food, while others drew services. I know for a fact that 3 members drew kitchen help. Basically setting out silverware, serving the food, filling drinks. There were supposed to be at least 12 people in the kitchen. There are 4. So I help and skip lunch. When it's time to take the kiddos out for the egg hunt, I told the youth director I was going out front for a cigarette (away from the kids) and she could find me if I was needed. Two puffs into the cig, I was needed. There weren't enough people to help out the littlest kids (in the 1-3 age range). Wait, I said, I don't have a kid in the 1-3 age range here. Toddler is at home. Where are all the 1-3 age range parents. They are finishing lunch. Harumph (I always wanted to type that). Must be nice. Some of us never even started lunch. But I help. The hunt only takes 15 minutes or so, but 10 minutes in my cell rings. Toddler is feeling yucky again. Can I come home? Surely dear, surely. By now I am ready to escape.
That afternoon, Toddler is feeling better and I take him and his older 2 brothers to visit family. Not only do my parents make up baskets for them, but so do my aunt & uncle and my cousin's family. By the time we leave, we have enough candy to supply an army. The good thing is that now they have so much they really won't notice if DH and I snitch a piece. Or four. or eight. However, I don't know what we will do if the kids grow up and like Snickers.
Finally something wonderful happens. My brother & SIL call and would like to have my older 2 come spend the night. Trust me when I say that I could see the shining golden light and could hear the angels singing. At least I would have them out of my hair for a night.
Two hours after they are gone I realize how sorely mistaken I was. Toddler is so very attached to his older brothers. So that when they are gone, he is like a lost child. Think "Lord of the Flies" type lost child. He has no direction, no anchor. I see him slowly de-evolving from lack of companionship. Do DH and I qualify as companionship? Of course not. We're parents, and that's an entirely different species altogether.
My Easter evening is no more enjoyable than my Easter day. It is well after 7 before I realize that the only thing I've eaten all day is a mini Reese cup and a handful of jelly beans. Am I cooking for just us? Hell no. Cheese sandwiches and corn chips all around! Toddler is not happy with me. And quite frankly, neither is DH. I appease the 2 angry men in my life by allowing them full access to the other kids Easter bounty. They are sated.
The moral of this story is that there is no moral of this story. Children of the world....please remember that wonderful holidays for you are often like working a 22 hour day for your mother. At least I have a couple of months before the next one.....
I am fairly active in my church. Even though I am not in a position to donate hugely in a monetary way, I volunteer a lot of time and effort. To make sure there would be a nice variety of food for the Easter lunch after services, the ladies who wanted to participate drew foods from a hat rather than having a typical pot luck sign up. Two ladies and myself decided to work together in my kitchen Saturday morning. I drew baked beans, another drew potato salad and the third drew 'hot dessert.' Fine, good, nice easy stuff. Each of us also volunteered to hard boil 3 dozen eggs each. There is a movie night for the kids on Saturday night, and we were going to let the older ones color the eggs (the younger ones were painting wooden eggs....we were smart about that!). Those eggs would then be used as part of the egg hunt Sunday afternoon.
So that's how my Saturday went. I was busy, but I was happy. I've been in a bit of a slump lately, and working constantly took my mind off of things. Saturday night it was my Sister-in-Laws turn to shuffle the boys to movie night. Afterwards, we did our own egg coloring and by the time we sent the boys off to bed, I was dead on my feet. But I managed to put the kids baskets together and tidy the house up. It is well past 1 am by the time I get to bed.
Easter Sunday! Yeah, hoorah! Wait...I forgot I was an adult and there was no basket with 2 lbs of sugar waiting for me. Ah well, I can steal some from the kids. We do our own little mini egg hunt and the kids dig into their mounds of sugary delight. I notice my toddler is playing with a (now cracked) egg and sort of picking at his basket. He is glassy eyed and has a fever. Joy. Because of a minor heart condition, he gets really high fevers with no notice and no other symptoms. They spike quickly, like within 10 minutes, and get up to 101 or 102 degrees. Scary, but I have learned to handle it pretty well. My Darling Husband could handle it, but he gets nervous. I decide to stay home. I call another mom, who agrees to pick up the kids and my dishes for church.
After 2 hours or so, Toddler is feeling better. The fever has come down, but he is still a bit lazy and listless. I decide to try and hit the end of church services and be on hand to help during lunch and the egg hunt. I arrive at the church at the tale end of the sermon and manage to sneak into a back pew. Then I head down to the kitchen to help if I can. Now, the deal was that some of us drew food, while others drew services. I know for a fact that 3 members drew kitchen help. Basically setting out silverware, serving the food, filling drinks. There were supposed to be at least 12 people in the kitchen. There are 4. So I help and skip lunch. When it's time to take the kiddos out for the egg hunt, I told the youth director I was going out front for a cigarette (away from the kids) and she could find me if I was needed. Two puffs into the cig, I was needed. There weren't enough people to help out the littlest kids (in the 1-3 age range). Wait, I said, I don't have a kid in the 1-3 age range here. Toddler is at home. Where are all the 1-3 age range parents. They are finishing lunch. Harumph (I always wanted to type that). Must be nice. Some of us never even started lunch. But I help. The hunt only takes 15 minutes or so, but 10 minutes in my cell rings. Toddler is feeling yucky again. Can I come home? Surely dear, surely. By now I am ready to escape.
That afternoon, Toddler is feeling better and I take him and his older 2 brothers to visit family. Not only do my parents make up baskets for them, but so do my aunt & uncle and my cousin's family. By the time we leave, we have enough candy to supply an army. The good thing is that now they have so much they really won't notice if DH and I snitch a piece. Or four. or eight. However, I don't know what we will do if the kids grow up and like Snickers.
Finally something wonderful happens. My brother & SIL call and would like to have my older 2 come spend the night. Trust me when I say that I could see the shining golden light and could hear the angels singing. At least I would have them out of my hair for a night.
Two hours after they are gone I realize how sorely mistaken I was. Toddler is so very attached to his older brothers. So that when they are gone, he is like a lost child. Think "Lord of the Flies" type lost child. He has no direction, no anchor. I see him slowly de-evolving from lack of companionship. Do DH and I qualify as companionship? Of course not. We're parents, and that's an entirely different species altogether.
My Easter evening is no more enjoyable than my Easter day. It is well after 7 before I realize that the only thing I've eaten all day is a mini Reese cup and a handful of jelly beans. Am I cooking for just us? Hell no. Cheese sandwiches and corn chips all around! Toddler is not happy with me. And quite frankly, neither is DH. I appease the 2 angry men in my life by allowing them full access to the other kids Easter bounty. They are sated.
The moral of this story is that there is no moral of this story. Children of the world....please remember that wonderful holidays for you are often like working a 22 hour day for your mother. At least I have a couple of months before the next one.....
Friday, March 21, 2008
I could never get the hang of Thursdays.....
I woke up yesterday morning, realized it was Thursday, and then realized Sunday was Easter. And then I panicked. Three kids + no Easter baskets = mutiny. So I needed to go shopping, but that would have to wait until Dear Husband returned home from work.
I managed to get through the day. And then things got worse. They always do. But this time it was my fault since I needed to head to the dreaded and revered WalMart. Oh the great and powerful WM.
As I was walking out the door, DH decided he needed new jeans, and would I pick him up a couple of pair?? Now, the last time I picked his pants out for him, it was disaster. Even though I bought the exact size, the exact cut and the exact color he wanted, he didn't like them. They were too tight. They were too snug on his legs. I must've bought the wrong ones. Far be it for me to tell him he'd just gained a little weight.
WalMart was mobbed, as usual. But I don't think it had anything to do with the approaching holiday. People just go crazy over that big yellow smiley face announcing that this WAS $19.99 AND NOW IT'S ONLY $19.49!!!!!!
Then I head to the food section where I buy enough eggs to feed a small contingent of soldiers. I look around, but there is no egg dye nearby. Isn't WM like the king of upselling? Wouldn't putting the PAS coloring next to the eggs be a smart idea? Apparently not. Thankfully, a lady next to me was also stocking up on enough eggs to ride out the Apocalypse. She had egg dye in her cart. Oh thank you, lady who was better prepared than me for directing me to the egg dye. Which was on the completely other side of the store.
Next up was the promotional Easter candy aisle, also located in the food section. It was so crammed with carts and people that I made a game plan before I navigated through it. I have three kids. But damn near everything is packaged in twos, fours or eights. Or sixteens. Now, I'm a smart girl, but do you know what I'm going to have to go through on Saturday night assembling three baskets out of that mess? Anyway, back to my game plan. I stuck close to the shelf, and I walked, without stopping, and started grabbing three of everything I wanted. I won the Blue Ribbon for Easter shopping. I navigated that whole aisle in about 4 minutes. Go me. But I got to the end, and no egg dye here either.
So I have to traipse across the store to the aisle near the greeting cards and school supplies. Which of course, is where I would naturally think to look for egg dye. I was so flabbergasted at what I saw that I am still not over it. An entire aisle of Easter toys and doo-dads. Since when did Easter become a holiday akin to filling up a Christmas stocking?? Easter toys, Easter games, Easter yo-yos, Easter silly putty, Easter stickers, Easter Pez, Easter temporary tattoos, Easter checkers, Easter plastic jewelry, Easter....wait.... Monopoly? What?!?! Yes, there was a mini Easter Monopoly game. Now, I know in our health-conscious world we are trying to keep our kids from becoming obese. But this....this was just ridiculous. I got my egg dye and got the flock out of there.
I was one of the lucky ones. I only had to wait in line 2-3 years. I mean minutes. I was behind someone who had only a moderate cart full, she was youngish, and like me, sans-kids. That is usually a good sign. But no. She had a few coupons (I can live with that), Was that price right? (Come on lady, it rung up .21 cents extra) She was paying with a check (you couldn't have started filling that out while your stuff was being scanned?) and then wanted to chat with the cashier about how it was soooo busy and she wondered why she could never seem to get out of this store quickly. (I'll give you three guesses, but you're only going to need one)
I am getting in my car. Dear Husband calls. Was I planning on making dinner for the kids? Um....I am 20 miles away from home. That is physically impossible at the moment. And what did he really expect me to say, no, I am going to turn the kids out into the wild and let them fend for themselves. Well, the boys had some friends over, so could I maybe pick up dinner? I ask him if he could just order pizza. The kids don't want pizza, they want McDonalds. Now he knows I hate those golden arches. I hate the food, I hate the smell, I hate the whole corporation. But I am tired, and I, stupidly, agree. Okay, well.... He proceeds to give me the longest most complicated order I have ever heard. Are you writing this down? No, because I am currently doing 65 MPH on the highway, talking on my cell phone to you, and trying to keep the milk from falling on the bag with the eggs. Oh yeah, he says, I also want 2 Big Yucky Sandwiches with no lettuce, extra pickles and tomatoes. And large fries. And a shake. He is so lucky I love him.
Surprisingly, McCrap gets my order right and I manage to leave with money still in my checking account. Sort of. However, what I didn't take into account was that 6 boys between the ages of 5 and 10 don't ever really know what they want when you take their order. Everybody wanted what the other person had. I left the food in a pile on the table and left them to fight it out.
And just to really reinforce the idea that I can't get the hang of Thursdays....I let the boys talk me into having these friends over for a sleepover. Please save me.
I managed to get through the day. And then things got worse. They always do. But this time it was my fault since I needed to head to the dreaded and revered WalMart. Oh the great and powerful WM.
As I was walking out the door, DH decided he needed new jeans, and would I pick him up a couple of pair?? Now, the last time I picked his pants out for him, it was disaster. Even though I bought the exact size, the exact cut and the exact color he wanted, he didn't like them. They were too tight. They were too snug on his legs. I must've bought the wrong ones. Far be it for me to tell him he'd just gained a little weight.
WalMart was mobbed, as usual. But I don't think it had anything to do with the approaching holiday. People just go crazy over that big yellow smiley face announcing that this WAS $19.99 AND NOW IT'S ONLY $19.49!!!!!!
Then I head to the food section where I buy enough eggs to feed a small contingent of soldiers. I look around, but there is no egg dye nearby. Isn't WM like the king of upselling? Wouldn't putting the PAS coloring next to the eggs be a smart idea? Apparently not. Thankfully, a lady next to me was also stocking up on enough eggs to ride out the Apocalypse. She had egg dye in her cart. Oh thank you, lady who was better prepared than me for directing me to the egg dye. Which was on the completely other side of the store.
Next up was the promotional Easter candy aisle, also located in the food section. It was so crammed with carts and people that I made a game plan before I navigated through it. I have three kids. But damn near everything is packaged in twos, fours or eights. Or sixteens. Now, I'm a smart girl, but do you know what I'm going to have to go through on Saturday night assembling three baskets out of that mess? Anyway, back to my game plan. I stuck close to the shelf, and I walked, without stopping, and started grabbing three of everything I wanted. I won the Blue Ribbon for Easter shopping. I navigated that whole aisle in about 4 minutes. Go me. But I got to the end, and no egg dye here either.
So I have to traipse across the store to the aisle near the greeting cards and school supplies. Which of course, is where I would naturally think to look for egg dye. I was so flabbergasted at what I saw that I am still not over it. An entire aisle of Easter toys and doo-dads. Since when did Easter become a holiday akin to filling up a Christmas stocking?? Easter toys, Easter games, Easter yo-yos, Easter silly putty, Easter stickers, Easter Pez, Easter temporary tattoos, Easter checkers, Easter plastic jewelry, Easter....wait.... Monopoly? What?!?! Yes, there was a mini Easter Monopoly game. Now, I know in our health-conscious world we are trying to keep our kids from becoming obese. But this....this was just ridiculous. I got my egg dye and got the flock out of there.
I was one of the lucky ones. I only had to wait in line 2-3 years. I mean minutes. I was behind someone who had only a moderate cart full, she was youngish, and like me, sans-kids. That is usually a good sign. But no. She had a few coupons (I can live with that), Was that price right? (Come on lady, it rung up .21 cents extra) She was paying with a check (you couldn't have started filling that out while your stuff was being scanned?) and then wanted to chat with the cashier about how it was soooo busy and she wondered why she could never seem to get out of this store quickly. (I'll give you three guesses, but you're only going to need one)
I am getting in my car. Dear Husband calls. Was I planning on making dinner for the kids? Um....I am 20 miles away from home. That is physically impossible at the moment. And what did he really expect me to say, no, I am going to turn the kids out into the wild and let them fend for themselves. Well, the boys had some friends over, so could I maybe pick up dinner? I ask him if he could just order pizza. The kids don't want pizza, they want McDonalds. Now he knows I hate those golden arches. I hate the food, I hate the smell, I hate the whole corporation. But I am tired, and I, stupidly, agree. Okay, well.... He proceeds to give me the longest most complicated order I have ever heard. Are you writing this down? No, because I am currently doing 65 MPH on the highway, talking on my cell phone to you, and trying to keep the milk from falling on the bag with the eggs. Oh yeah, he says, I also want 2 Big Yucky Sandwiches with no lettuce, extra pickles and tomatoes. And large fries. And a shake. He is so lucky I love him.
Surprisingly, McCrap gets my order right and I manage to leave with money still in my checking account. Sort of. However, what I didn't take into account was that 6 boys between the ages of 5 and 10 don't ever really know what they want when you take their order. Everybody wanted what the other person had. I left the food in a pile on the table and left them to fight it out.
And just to really reinforce the idea that I can't get the hang of Thursdays....I let the boys talk me into having these friends over for a sleepover. Please save me.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I turn my back for one minute.....
Let me preface this by saying my toddler (2 years old) is fat. No horrible Maury Povich-worthy fat. But he's really really chubby. He is also a nudist. He hates clothes. I can get him to keep his training pants on, but that's about it.
Now, I was cooking dinner yesterday. The toddler was 'helping' mommy. And by 'helping' I mean he was dragging all the pots and pans out and banging on them loudly with a wooden spoon. He would also occasionally try to scale the pantry shelves. What would I do without that kind of help? My older 2 boys decided to play outside before dinner. Fine. Great, actually.
Toddler disappears and becomes very quiet. Any mother of a small child instinctively knows this is not good. The naive ones might think 'Oh, the little dear has gone off to amuse himself.' But us veterans are thinking 'Great, he's probably dismantling the computer or trying to put the turtle in the VCR.'
I happen into the study. Where, thankfully, I find him. He has found a pair of my Middle Son's pants. (which, oh lord, almost fit him even though Middle Son is 4 years older) He has also found OlderSon's shoes, a pair of gloves and a toboggan. He was trying to make a break for the (*locked*) front door. (Hey, I told you I was a veteran, what did you think?)
Trust me people. He may look cute, but that is all just a way to lull you into his trap.
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