Vacation, a State of Mind?

It is summertime, so you know what that means?  The summer vacation stories are coming out of the mouths of neighbors, friends, and moms of your kids’ classmates.  There are stories of cruises, beaches and lands far, far away.  I listen with a smile on my face to hide my all encompassing envy.  This will be year number 3 of no vacation for us.  It really should be number 4, but we bit the bullet and took a vacation in 2009 for a family wedding and reunion.  I know in the grand scheme of things this is pretty low on the pity list.  And in the grand scheme of things our life this summer is not bad.

To be totally honest I don’t know if I really want a vacation.  Now, I should admit that if someone offered great childcare so that SoHubby and I could go on a fabulous no cares vacation I would be drooling and packed before they could say, “The kids are fine.”  That is a long shot.  Any vacation right now would involve cranky kids, a husband connected to electronic gadgets and one stressed out mom.  Which makes me think that we have been conditioned to WANT a vacation.  Who really wants to pack for 5 people, cram everyone into a car for hours, listen to kids fight over who didn’t touch whom and then do it in reverse with the prize being a mountain of laundry.  Sure there are good times to be had in between, but is it worth the money, time and aggravation to take this freak show on the road?  I say, NO.

My goal for summer, as the kids have gotten older. is to keep them just busy enough as to not want to kill each other.  At the point of wanting to shove the kids in their rooms for the rest of their lives, we are off to a schedule activity or the pool.  Oh the pool, it has miracle powers.  It makes children stop fighting and tired.  Some have said our schedule is crazy.  I say it is the only thing keeping us sane.  We have cabbage ball (it is larger than a softball and hirlarious to watch small children run around like crazed research monkeys who just escaped from the lab), Ta Kwon Do (where small children beat the hell out of each other), gymnastics (the de-energizer) , and library storytime (aka another adult entertains your child while you play on your smartphone).  Then there is the glorious pool.  I joined the fitness center for the pool.  You could easily kill 2/3 hours at the pool and not even blink.  The pool is the saving grace of summer.  The bonus is that if I can throw myself out of bed early enough in the morning, I can have a couple of hours of childfree time.  You would be amazed what an hour on the treadmill watching Will and Grace can do for your mood.  It is no Disney cruise, but our schedule full of activities is making summer much less torture chamber bidding time before school starts and more I can’t kill you today, because it is POOL TIME!

I don’t know how the kids feel about any of this.  I think Amber is the only one that really remembers us taking regular vacations.  Although, Amber and Sam both talk about the family reunion in Tennessee often.  Sam is heavily influenced by the commercials.  I simply pat him on the head and say maybe someday we will go to Atlantis.  Evie has no clue.  I think her first real hotel stay was our recent cheer competition in Biloxi, MS.  That sets the bar really low for her.  It does hurt some to tell the kids that we won’t be doing Disney anytime soon, but look at the stuff I have to distract them with.  The one thing I can say with certainty is that their summers are a 100 times better than any of my summers as a kid.  So we will stay home and keep with our activity heavy schedule to keep us busy during the summer.  If you pass me and wonder what is behind that smile on my face, just know that I am thinking no packing, no mountainous laundry, no long car rides with screaming kids, no cranky off routine kids and I get to sleep in my own bed at night.  It isn’t quite the same as a beach front condo on the beach of Destin, but I know for sure I won’t be eaten by a shark.

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Rules for an Enjoyable Summer.

I considered the title of Summer Rules, but then you would think I have lost my damn mind.  No, these are rules for my children so that they can have an enjoyable summer and I can make it through summer without my eye twitching uncontrollably.

1. SHUT THE DAMN DOOR!  Look, I went through this with my parents and, now, it is your turn.  Just for the sake of all our sanity shut the freaking door.  It isn’t really that hard and you will save the screaming…at the lizards and frogs that seem to think an opened door is an invitation to come on in and make themselves at home. If I have to come eye to eye with a lizard when I sit down on the sofa to relax, I am going to go homicidal.  On the lizard, of course.

2. Clean up after yourselves.  It is not that hard.  No one cleaned up after you at school and no one will do it at home for you.  What am I? Your mother?  Oh wait!…Scratch that.  I am not your maid, so if you keep missing your mouth while eating or drinking then clean it up.  Summer will be much better without me having a coronary everytime you spill something.

3. Just know that since I gave birth to you and you are at an age where you are capable of doing certain things that means you are my slave.  I know, I know, the Constitution outlawed slavery, but what the government doesn’t know won’t hurt me.  And let’s be honest here, I am doing the bulk of the workload, anyway.  I don’t need to add an hour long discussion on the merits of you taking out the trash to my workload.  Take it out and then you can plant your butt back on the sofa and watch your show while I  continue EVERYTHING ELSE THAT NEEDS TO BE DONE!

4. When I say enough with the My Little Pony show or any other show.  I mean ENOUGH!  There are only a handful of shows that make me want to go sit on the nearest cliff during the windy season and MLP is one of them.  I have enough screeching, whiny little creatures in real life, I don’t need to watch them on TV, too.  And Pinkie Pie needs to go away.  I don’t care where she goes, but either she can go away or get punched in the throat.

5. When I say NO, it is not a signal for you to keep asking me until my head splits in 2 and scream, ” I SAID NO!”.  No means no, even when it is said to child from parent.

6. If I tell you that we can’t go swimming this week, just leave it at that unless you want a lesson in the workings of the female body.  And walking away saying, “OH mom must be on her period” due to the fact that I just yelled at you, “NO MEANS NO!”, doesn’t help the situation.  Just know that soon you will be dealing with the same thing and I have a blog where I can enact my revenge.

7. No cracking out the kids!  This one is for SoHubby.  It is NOT 1978, which means there are other alternatives to Kool Aid to give our children.  I know you think it is funny to get them all jumpy on sugar and leave for work, but just know I have my own form of torture that I can dole out.  See number 6.

8.  If you would like to get home quick from grocery shopping, then don’t whine, complain and fart around while we are grocery shopping.  Making me remind you a million times not to stand directly behind or in front of the shopping cart, to stay with me, or to hurry up picking a toy that you just have to spend your money on takes up precious time that could have been spent racing around throwing random items into the basket so we can go home.

9. Don’t say you are bored, if you don’t want me to make you unbored.  I guarantee that whatever task I give you will be much more painful, in your mind, than the current boredom you are experiencing.  Look, there are baseboards to be cleaned, cabinets to be wiped down, extra school work that can be done, etc that will make that boredom seem like paradise.

10. There will be down days and super busy days.  The less complaining from you ensures we all have a fun summer.  I know all your friends are going on luxury vacations and having the time of your lives while you are stuck here with your parents and siblings, but it is the hand that you have been dealt so just deal with it.  You can always dream of the day when you move out of our house and do all those fun things we never let you do.  Oh and when you are daydreaming about how great your life will be once you are on your own, don’t forget to daydream that great fun job you got without any hard work where you make a ton of money.

Love,

Mom

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I Have the Dreaded…TWEEN!

It has occurred to me in the past recent months that Amber is a tween.  I have heard that tween could be any age between 6 and 13, but I can’t imagine my 6 yr old as a tween.  Although, Sam does like Justin Bieber.  Not sure how that happened.  Amber, on the other hand, is speeding through tweendom into teenager.  I swear I can see it and I just want to grab her and hide.

Amber has always been opinionated, but at this point in her life everything is a debate.  Even more worse is that she THINKS she is right all the time, too.  UGH!  Many times I snap out of an argument I am having with Amber and think, “DAMN, I am arguing with a 9 year old.  What does she know about the world?  Or anything?”.  That is when I yell, “I am the MOM and you will do what I say.”  I don’t think I have to tell you how frustrating it is to have every word out of your mouth debated.  It makes me want to bang my head against a brick wall.  I think that might be actually more productive than any argument I have with Amber. At least I am not alone in the Great Debate.  Amber does this with her friends, her dad and even her coaches.  Somehow, her teacher has been able to escape this little trait.  Seeing as I am a little intimidated by Amber’s 4th grade teacher, I can only guess why she has not encountered this problem.

More proof that Amber is firmly cemented into Tweendom is her “love life”.  She is 9 yrs old, soon to be 10, so her love life is not that extensive, at least to us in the real world.  In her mind, there is great drama going on.  First, we have Ron Weasley.  No that is not some boy in her class.  It is the character from Harry Potter.  My lovely daughter has a thing for second fiddles.  Not!  That that is a bad thing.  We have, finally, gotten to a point where we don’t hear his name mentioned everyday.  Amber has branched out into talking about more real life crushes, like boys in her class.  This all started just recently and I have to admit I was surprised.  Amber didn’t really show any signs that she was crushing on these little boys.  Matter of fact, she rarely mentioned any boy in her class.  However, toward the end of the year I started hearing about this boy and that boy and who was dating whom.  First, I needed clarification on dating:

Me:  Whoa! Whoa!  What do YOU mean DATING?

Amber:  Like, you know?  DATING!

Me:  Are you telling me that these little boys are picking up these little girls and taking them somewhere?

Amber: YES!

Me:  You can’t be serious? *What the hell kind of Catholic school is?*

Later I would fine out that dating means the kids plan to meet up for lunch.  Not very hard to do considering they are all forced to be around each other for 8 hours a day.  That was a load off my mind when the voice of reason stepped in.

Then we had a little Days of our Lives drama happening when Amber admitted to liking a boy who had already professed his 4th grade love to another.  It seemed all cool until one day it became a big topic of discussion.  There were field reporters doing research, factcheckers trying to get confirmation, Amber supporters not making comments, interviews finally held where the parties agreed that there maybe liking going on, but nothing was being pursued.  Oh but the scars of tween love and lost had been forever sealed on Amber’s heart.  Should I even mentioned the date Amber was suppose to have with one boy, but he stood her up instead.  Fourth grade in Catholic school is hardcore.  All I remember of public school fourth grade was making it out of the bathroom alive to fight another day.

The drama continued between the girls but not over boys.  Here is where mothers of boys can get a little smug.  Sure you have to deal with a bloody nose, black eye, etc, but then it is over.  With girls it is the deep emotionally scarring that takes the rest of our lives and thousands upon thousands of dollars of therapy just for us to get out of bed and face another day.  Female humans are the only creatures that never throw a punch, but do the most lasting damage.  I have already logged many hours trying to convince Amber to just let it roll off her back, BUT “MOMTHEYSAIDIWASABRUNETTEWHENREALLYIAMABLONDE!”  They are right I don’t get it.  If some of this stuff was said to me today, I would probably laugh in the other person’s face.  However, when you are 9 yrs old and the consensus is that you are a brunette when all you want to be is a blonde your whole world has been shattered.

The least, but still annoying, proof of Tweendom is the radio battle.  I don’t have great music taste and will listen to the trashiest top 40 hit currently blowing iTunes record, but I still have some standards.  First, what the hell is this One Direction and why is it only one?  I swear if I hear that song one more time I am going to drive us all off in a ravine.  (Don’t worry, I don’t think we have any ravines in South LA.)  Don’t even get me started on the screeching that comes from the third row when I DARE attempt to change the station when one of these fine teeny bopping songs comes on.  You would think Amber’s heart was just pierced while pouring lemon juice into the wound.  When I go deaf, she is paying for my hearing dog.  Not sure how I am going to make it through the next 3 years much less the Teenhood.

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Soft Kitty

It all started on that faithful New Year’s Eve night when every kid was spewing their guts all over the house while I pushed on with the New Year Cheer.  We are not big Dick Clark fans, so we had chosen The Big Bang Theory, which happened to be in marathon mode, as the background noise to our chorus of vomit.

I will admit I had tried watching the show several times before and never got it.  Frankly, Sheldon reminded me a little of Sam in his most annoying times.  I watch TV to escape, not to relive similar events to my daily life.  But it kept the kids happy while I went between cleaning vomit and making appetizers as our traditional New Year’s Eve meal.  Sounds delish, doesn’t it?

That was the day we all would fall for the science hilarity that is The Big Bang Theory.  Now, Amber will often break into an intimation of Mrs. Wolowitz.  While Evie exclaims that Sheldon is her favorite.  And, of course, we all know the words to Soft Kitty:

 

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Your Catholic History Moment

The kids go to a Catholic school, so dressing up in their Halloween costumes at school is not going to happen.  In the place of costumes the kids get to dress up as their favorite Saint on November 1, All Saints Day.  Not quite the same thing and it doesn’t get the same amount of excitement, especially when you have to do a report to go along with your “costume”.  But we are here to learn, right?

I don’t have a favorite Saint.  I blame my parents.  The short of the story is that my mom got my religion choice in the divorce.  From the little I learn, I could fake it by saying Joan of Arc.  It is not quite as transparent as claiming Mary as your favorite Saint.  No offense to those who have her as a favorite Saint, but she is kind of a go to Saint, especially for us with minimal Catholic education.  Amber choose Mary, last year, because…wait…for it…she got to bring a baby doll to school.  A baby doll that she forgot to bring.  A baby doll I had to rush to Target to buy along with swaddling clothes.  Do you know how hard it is to find swaddling clothes in this day and age?  Of course, I had to get her the baby, because, “…HOW WILL ANYONE KNOW WHO I AM?!”

This year we got lucky and Amber’s teacher picked her Saint for her.  Her Saint is Barbara.  It seems Barbara had quite a hard life at the hand of her father.  She kept her faith despite her abusive father and was rewarded with Sainthood.  Plus, as an added bonus, God showed her father the business end of a lightening bolt.  Take that buttmonkey!  I am a little confused, because the information sheet given by the teacher mentioned that Saint Barbara is/was the patron Saint of firefighters, but not really, anymore, because we have fire extinguishers.  Then while I was trying to find out dates for when Saint Barbara lived, I came across this.  It appears that Saint Barbara’s true lesson is :

The life of St. Barbara is a vivid reminder that there can be much anger in our world and in our lives. Being in touch with God’s presence in a very special way can do much toward relieving ourselves of our tendency to allow anger to control us. 

Hmmm….could this be a message?  Maybe, but we will put that aside for the moment.  See, not letting all that anger control me. I find all this Saint business fascinating, which means I am learning right along with the kids. I didn’t finish my Catholic education.  There are many things we can learn from the Saints.

Now, if I can find the patron Saint for stubborn children to help guide me through my experience of parenting Sam.  He is not required to dress as a Saint.  I am not sure how many kids in his class will, but I am sure he won’t care if he was the only one to show up in just his school uniform.  Or he could flip out and yell at me as he gets in the car after school, that “he was the only one that wasn’t dressed as a Saint and it is all my fault!”  I thought I had the perfect solution to this problem.  Sam has an Anakin Skywalker costume that I got on sale at Target after Halloween, last year.  All it really is a brown sack like garment that can be cinched at the waist.  Throw in a large wooden rosary and you have yourself a monk.  I am sure there is a monk Saint out there, somewhere.  Of course, this was a no go for Sam.  He is adamant that he wants to wear his Ironman costume to school.  I don’t think I will have much success in finding a Saint that could incorporate an Ironman costume.  I wonder if he still wore a large wooden rosary, if anyone would notice?  I think I will have better success becoming the patron Saint of stubborn children.  At least, I would have earned it.

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The Day I Lost it at the Office Max (or Teachers Really Do Hate Parents)

I have heard of these fictitious people who love to shop for school supplies.  All I see are moms with one eye on the supply list another on the kids, who are running around like mad people, and, yet, another scouring the shelf for the must have school supply.  She won’t find it, even though she has exhausted every store in the city.  She will come to you on the first day of school, wringing her hands and a small tear in her eye, and tell you that she did everything she could to find this item.  You will tell her that it is no big deal.  You can either substitute with this easy to find at any store item or you can go to this store that is only opened from 8am-9am on the third Monday of the 4th month of the 5th odd year during a lunar eclipse.    Today, against my gut feeling, I decided to become THAT mom.

Running errands with 3 kids is never fun.  It appears that if we are home for the day the kids complain.  If we leave to get some things done, the kids complain.  If their super cool and loving mom takes them to the coolest waterpark that New Orleans has ever seen they will complain.  Apparently, my kids are spoiled brats.  Well, after today they will learn what it is like to live in the olden days when parents didn’t care about their kids’ feelings.  Also known as the 80′s.  Momma is going to have a full week of watching whatever she wants,  cleaning without having to maneuver around small people, and eating when she wants.  And yes, that is a little bit of chocolate cupcake on the corner of her mouth. And no, you can’t have any!  How can I do this you ask?  The kids are punished.  Don’t worry, they will get an hour in the yard and their food will be slide through their doors at the appropriate times of day.

First let’s tackle these school supply lists.  I have had my share of tough school supplies in my day.  You can read about my first one here. Add the 3 kids and I want to stick hot pokers with the E.Coli virus on them in my eyes.  I understand that teachers have an important job, teaching our children, but does it really take 5 boxes of crayons and WASHABLE markers, 6 jumbo glue sticks, a box that measures 8 5/8 x 5 3/4 x 2 1/3 and a wire basket that measures 16 x 12 x 5 to teach the kids?  I hear in some countries it only takes a $1 a day to school a child.  Where can I get on that plan? Or are these things put on the list payback for putting up with our little demon spawns for the school year?  Teachers, be honest with me.  Just tell me that you put this weird crap on there so you can secretly watch us lose our shit in the middle of Office Max as our kids tear down the fire hoses.

Don’t think I forgot about the manufacturers of school supplies and the stores that sell them.  The teacher asks for 20 sharpened pencils, but the manufacturers make only 18 or 24 pencils.  Of course, they don’t make them all sharpened and you pay a premium for that little point on the end.  Also, can you explain to me why my 5 year old needs 60 pencils in Kindergarten?  Are you planning for them to reenact a fight scene from Game of Thrones using the pencils as small swords?  If so, I may not mind buying all the pencils, because that would be cool.  Otherwise, I am sure I will be handed 2.5 packs of pencils at the end of the school year.  Don’t scoff it has happened.  Or what about these oh so special colored notebooks that you demand request.  When I read that Amber needed a red single subject notebook and a blue 3 subject notebook I thought, “That ain’t no big deal. At least she didn’t ask for fuchsia.”  Guess what I found?  Freaking fuchsia!!  There was fuchsia everywhere, but I had to dig through a mound of notebooks to find the only red single notebook that Office Max had and even then I had to beat another mother off with my diaper bag to get it.  And the blue 3 subject notebook?  Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the baby is now working at the Office Max.  I hope to see her once she is promoted out of the stock room.  Last, but not least, please explain to me why Office Max has every fancy composition book under the sun, but no black marble composition book in all the land?  Who doesn’t have a friggin BLACK MARBLE COMPOSITION BOOK?  And why does my son need 2 of them?  He can barely write his name, I hope you are not expecting him to journal about his day.  If you are here is a sample, “Dear Diary, I am hungry.  The End.”  That is as good as it will get.

So excuse me if I lost it a bit while trying to talk to the manager about their weird sale on Crayola products when it was clearly marked on the shelves “Washable Markers” and my children decided to see if the baby can survive an attack from the exit door.  Again, I am sorry, I was DONE!  I had been to 3 stores (none of which are near each other), endured the constant stream of “I’m hungry. I have to pee.”, and the questionable lunch from Wendy’s only to discover that I still  have some shopping to do.  If I have an extra big smile on my face for the first day of school, know that I know that you think you got me, but the laugh is on you.  You will be spending 8 hours a day with my demon spawn.  Good luck with that.

 

 

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My Hell (or what you all might call grocery shopping)

I am sure every mother of small children has a similar story, but here goes mine.

The kids are out of school for Spring Break and Friday is my regular grocery shopping day.  You might say that if I knew the kids will be off of school on Friday I would wait and go a day earlier or wait until SoHubby can watch the kids.  And I would pat your wittle head and tell you how naive you are.  I could give you all the reasons why I can’t change my shopping day, but I will cut it short and say, IT WON’T WORK and PEOPLE WOULD STARVE! Another tidbit to add to this is that I have been watching Extreme Couponing.  Combine that with $3.69 a gallon gas and I have lost my DAMN mind.  The short of that is I have been trying to save money.  Long gone are the days of putting anything in the cart and just paying whatever the cashier says at the end.  Now are the days of adding as we go, watching carefully what goes into the cart, telling the kids NO about a million times, and saving as much as humanly possible without warranting a TV crew to follow me around.

Today was the big day, the kids have been saving their allowance and they decide they were going to spend it.  Maybe Amber decided when I told her that I saw a Lemonade Mouth CD at Target and maybe Sam decided just because whatever Amber does he has to do.  Oh, the life of a younger sibling. Can’t wait for when there are 2 of them.  Amber was pretty easy, except for her constant interference with my parenting.  She seems to think her name is Mommy, Jr, instead of older sister.  Sam, on the other hand, had a major case of indecision.  Something that just might run in SoHubby’s family.  We walk down the toy aisle and Sam makes a decision on some spider thing.  Whew, that was quick and painless.  Moving onto the last little bit of shopping I need to get done and we are out of here.  While making sure I had the right size diapers, Sam gets a look on his face and says, “I don’t want this.”  There it is.  The indecision begins and there goes my sanity.  So we go back to the toy aisle.  Sam puts the other toy back and I ask him what does he want.  His big problem is that he wants everything, but only has $13.  He can’t decide.  SHOCKER!!  I get fed up and go to find Evie some shoes.  His whimpering wears me down and I decide that the third time he will certainly be able to make a decision.  Oh how people never learn, no matter how many times they get burn. It will end with Sam crying in the middle of the toy aisle and me saying that he can wait until his Daddy can bring him.  Why should I suffer alone?

We all pile into the Suburban to discover that we had spent 2 hours in Target.  Not usually a bad thing.  I compose myself and press on with the grocery shopping.  Next stop Winn Dixie.  They have tons of buy 1 get 1 free sales plus savings on gas.  Not my favorite grocery store, but a girl has to make sacrifices in tough times.  The trip doesn’t start off that great, because I had to wake up 2 sleeping kids.  Never fun, but doesn’t last long.  Although, I carefully look over the weekly ad online the night before and write down in detail the things I want, I still have to pay close attention, because things change.  Have you ever tried to focus with 3 kids buzzing around?  You might as well try solving the national debt problem.  So far things are normal.  I have told the kids that if they just behave we can be in and out.  And they didn’t hear a word I said.  I stop a few times to nicely remind them yell at them about the rules and getting home faster to do fun stuff, like eat lunch and maybe a nap.  The real fun begins at the check out when we are in full meltdown mode and Evie won’t give up the 2 packages of mini donuts.  I get everything onto the belt when Evie stands up in the cart.  Amber tries to get her to sit down, I reach over to try to get her to sit down and just when I think I have gotten her to sit down she falls over the cart seat into the back of the cart.  No worries, her brother broke her fall.  There was much crying and steam coming out of my ears.  I inform the children that their lives are over and they will spend the rest of their existence in their rooms.  And that is exactly what happened.  I might have taken my sweet time putting away groceries while eating chocolate donuts (BWAHAHAHAHA!) and cleaning the house before letting them out of their rooms.  That’ll show them.  I never remember acting like these kids  when I was younger, but I do remember many spankings.  I will tell you when I figure this out.

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Don’t Mess with Me, Granny!

Carpool is a scary place, especially for the new mom.  I remember sitting in the theater at Amber’s old school receiving the directions for carpool.  It was like listening to the flight attendant give detail directions on how to save your life when the plane goes down because you knew the fly was going down.  I couldn’t follow what they were saying.  I was sweating.  What are they talking about?  I am going to go in where, park over where and pick up who at what time?  It was confusing and my head hurt.  Then the first day of school arrived and I fell in line like everyone else.  This was easy.  Or so I thought.  There is way more to carpooling that can’t be taught, but learned on the job.

The first few days of carpool were easy, because everyone was on their best behavior.  No one rushed.  We all made sure to take our time and watch out for our precious little snowflakes as they made their way into the building.  After about a month, it got really hairy.  As we all fell into our routine, some of us thought that we didn’t need to rush so we might have hit the snooze button one too many times.  This resulted in a few kids learning what quick reflexes meant and a few parents saying a few unsavory words.  Sorry, but when you almost hit my kid in the school parking lot, because you are late for work, you deserve to hear a few unsavory words and maybe a hand gesture or two.  This is tricky, though.  Today’s ignorant asshole in the carpool line is tomorrow’s homeroom mom.  That is an encounter you don’t want to have.  You don’t want to be stuck on a treasure hunt that leads you deep into the swamp for that one special item that the homeroom mom just has to have for the class party.  All because you cursed her out during carpool, because she clipped your precious on their way into school.   Trust me on that one.  I have learned to keep myself in check and  keep the road rage to a minimum, when in the carpool line.  Keep in mind that I am not perfect.

Then Amber started at a Catholic school.  A Catholic school that uses a public residential street for their carpool routine. We received reminders on carpool procedures, but there was a little something extra this time around.  We were reminded to not engage in Unchristian like behaviors.  Ooooooookay.  We were to remember that we had to respect those that lived around the school.  Let me stop here and explain the neighborhood around Amber’s school.  It is upper scale area and there are some elderly living in the area, who mostly go to the school church.  Also, the school has to be careful, because neighbors don’t take kindly when schools want to expand, which ours did with the new church.  Although, I don’t think you can really pin that onto the school, but the neighbors don’t see it that way.

I had done well, until today.  No big issues.  Everyone was always very cordial when allowing 2 lanes of cars to merge into the one lane of carpool.  Of course, there are a few parents that feel they have to get their kids as fast as humanly possible so they may not let you merge.  That is okay, because I am usually not in a hurry  and let’s face it, God will get them for their Unchristian like behavior.  I have always remembered to go the speed limit and watch for the walkers while driving through the hood.  I never parked on anyone’s grass (Heaven forbid) and if someone couldn’t pass (we have very small streets with very large vehicles) I was more than happy to give up my spot and go around the block.  Another point that is an obstacle is there is always some construction or landscaping going on which means more large vehicles taking up more space on small streets.

Today was the day I could have easily thrown down my Christian behavior and got very Unchrisitan in the carpool line.  It was early dismissal, which I am sure messes with the plans of the residents.  On top of that a side street was closed due to some construction/parish work going on.  We were all waiting in the carpool line and it was at a complete stop.   Not that unusual.  It takes some time for the kids to get down from class.  I take this time to catch up with Twitter.  Here is where I can hear SoHubby telling me how I need to pay attention, blah, blah, blah.  Then there is a rap on my window.  This rap belonged to a very pissed off old lady.  She is telling me to move up and straighten out.  Huh?  Wha?  There was hardly any room between me and the car in front of me, besides the line of cars behind me.  I pull up as far as I can, which seemed to piss her off more.  She is shouting at me to straighten out and what is wrong with me.  Now, I am pissed, because where the hell am I suppose to go.  Last time I checked my SUV didn’t have wings.  Here is where I say a few Unchristian things…in my car…with the window rolled up.  Why?  Because 1. I am still scared of Catholic school officials.  There may not be any nuns, anymore, but the Fear of God is still there.  2. As mean as dirt as this woman was, she was old, so not really a fair fight. and 3. I don’t need anything else to make me known as “That Mom!”.  I can do that by just being myself.

I pulled up to the curb and watch the chaos unfold in my rearview mirror.  Old lady had another old lady with her, with whom she was bitching with…at…who knows.  Old lady was then caught by surprised when she saw that the street leading her out of this hell of school children and their parents was blocked.  Oh yeah, I had a little chuckle and a take that….to myself.  This woman had no where to go, but in line with the rest of us carpoolers.  That alone gave me some satisfaction.  I will be honest, though, I had had a long day, not too happy with leaving a group of moms to pick up my child early (early dismissal seems to always land on my MOPs days) and I just wanted to lay into this woman.  Why did she pick me?  There was a long line of cars that she could have set her sights on.  Where the hell was she going in such a hurry?  I figure by the time I am that age, I really don’t care when I get somewhere and other people can wait for me.  The biggest question was what did she say when she got in the car and realized that she was still stuck like Chuck in the DAMN CARPOOL LINE?  HA!  HA!  Maybe it is okay if your Unchristian like behavior remains in your head for your own enjoyment.

Never underestimate routine days as a mom.  Around every corner there is something waiting to shake up your day.  Just make sure you don’t end up in the parish jail, because you needed to teach an old lady a lesson.  And of course, you need to always maintain your mom reputation.  You don’t ever want to be the subject of THAT conversation where you are THAT mom.  You will, however, want to be invited into that conversation so you can learn all about THAT mom and how to stay out of her way.

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The Revolt

I wish this was about all the chaos going on around the world, but nope.  It is just about the machines around me and their desire to drive me freaking insane.  I have gone on and on about how crazy it makes me that things only have a life span of less than 10 years these days.  Yeah, that’s me and I fully accept that I  sound like an old man.

Our washing machine has been leaking water from underneath.  I could handle if it was spraying me everytime I turned it on, but nope it is on sneak attack.  It doesn’t leak all the time and you only discover the leak when you walk in to move laundry to the dryer and you get a sock full of wet.  I hate wet socks!  So I did the logical thing.  I gathered a forum of mothers and discussed it.  They had the answers, except SoHubby didn’t cooperate.  He did lift up the washer machine,  matter of fact he had it up on blocks only not in the front yard, and found nothing.  Did you know that there is nothing to see under your washer?  I didn’t.  Now, I do.   So the next logical step was to call a repair man.  He arrived and found nothing wrong.  Did you get that?  FOUND. NOTHING. WRONG!  Unless you count his observation that I had too many clothes in the washer.  Damn thing still leaks, just not as much.  Yeah, that was $87 well spent.

{Let’s stop for a moment.  I have a washer with a small, medium, large, extra large and super setting for the water levels.  And you guessed it, I packed that bitch like there was no tomorrow.  Do you know how much laundry 5 people make?  Correction. Do you know how much laundry the 3 little people make?  Amber is auditioning to be the next Cher, because she goes through multiple costume changes for the day.  I try to make laundry go as fast and efficient as possible.  Well, the repair man said that this is what was causing the leak.  I relented and started doing the half loads, which makes me shake my head, because what the hell are the last 2 water level settings for it I can’t stuff that bitch?  I would, also, like to point out this would be the time SoHubby decided to call me lazy in front of the repairman. The laugh was on him, because the repairman was impress that I was a wife that cooked.  I stopped the conversation there, because I don’t need anyone else’s drama.  We are all full up here. }

Next to go down was my laptop.  I still blame SoHubby for this one.  If he wouldn’t have touched it, it would still be alive today.  I sent it over to Geek Squad and they gave me the call.  Miss, your laptop is fried and we can fix it for about the same amount as buying a new one.  I would have been more upset about this if 1.I haven’t wanted a new computer for a long time. and 2. I didn’t save all the pictures on an external hard drive.  See there is some movement upstairs.  Still sucks having to learn new things and recreate the few Word docs that run my life, because, again, I am an old man and hate change.  I will scratch my butt and grumble about it for days just to prove it.

A few of the other things that decided to say screw this working nonsense and go on early retirement: the mighty Suburban blew it’s water pump. It has served us well, but choosing the time I am dropping Amber off at school was not the time to let me know it needed a little attention.  I think I blogged about the MayTag refrigerator .  If not, it is because  I have blocked that whole situation out.  Ice chests maybe okay for vacation or a hurricane, but not on a daily basis during regular times.  Smoke still comes out of my ears when I think of it.  Freakin computer blows.  In a freakin refrigerator.  You know the thing that keeps food cold.  Why the hell does my refrigerator need a computer.  Maybe if it was so smart with it’s computer and all it could make a dinner that my kids would actually eat.  It took everything I had not to beat the repairman when he suggested a surge protector for the FREAKIN REFRIGERATOR.  The oven which decided to stop, you know, heating.  Like the only reason you have an oven.

I just can’t take anymore revolts.  I mean if you have grievances, come to me, let me know what you need for us to work in harmony and I will take it under consideration before I laugh in your face.  You bitches work for me and I don’t like when things don’t work.  My kids learn new words when things don’t work.  Okay, they may learn new words other times, too, but that is not the point!  Machines were put here to serve and serve they shall.  Or maybe I will just cry in a corner and pray that the next thing to go doesn’t actually blow the house up.

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Lemme Tell You About My Day

Today had potential to be a good day.  We got to sleep in an extra hour and 45 minutes and there was a chance of  sneaking in a little shopping for myself since I was going to be out all day, anyway.  Little did I know.

I wake up refreshed from sleeping in an extra hour and 45 minutes (just had to said it again, because it was so glorious and rare), ready for the day.  I was going to face any challenges that may come my way and beat them with a smile.  Within a mere 15 minutes I am running late.  No big deal, I would just have to skip some routine grooming.  No eyebrows or fashion for me today.  Not a big deal. On the bright side, I had gotten all the clean laundry put away and wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.  Well…until the mountain of laundry that would be waiting for me when I got home in the evening. No matter, the day was bright and had potential, right?

Even though I had skipped some regular grooming, we still had to hustle.  I ran downstairs shooing kids into the car while throwing breakfast (for me) and snacks (for Evie) in the diaper bag.  There was some hairy moments when Sam played his little cry-whine-I-want-a-hug-from-Daddy-and-if-I-don’t-get-it-I-will-just-DIE! game.  After a happy, yet, slightly annoyed COME ON! from me we were on our way.  Thankfully the bridge was not packed with traffic and I didn’t have to threaten to throw myself off of it to just get to the bottom of it.  Once we hit the bottom, I texted Sam’s speech therapist to assure her that we were on our way, we would just be a few minutes late.  Success!  We made it to Speech only a minute late.  My punishment for this crime?  No parking.  No big deal.  I would just squeezed into the end of the row only hanging slightly into the street. No one was killed, so the day still had potential, right?

After speech I rush Sam into the car, race him to his school and then off to the eye doctor for Amber.  This is the reason we got to sleep in this morning.  Amber had an eye appointment after her Spanish teacher recommended she get some glasses.  It seems that Amber has been complaining that she can’t see the board.  However, she complains to the teachers and not really to us, her parents.  The reason for that?  Well, it doesn’t look so good for me.  Knowing that my daughter is a bit of a drama queen, I asked her if she REALLY had trouble seeing or was she looking for some attention.  You see Amber doesn’t miss any day of school.  She is rarely sick and I do my best to make all appointments during non-school hours.  Well, this is not cool to a 3rd grader, especially when she sees her friends getting pulled out of school on a regular basis.  So, basically in her 8.5 yr old mind she is missing out on something when in reality she is not missing out on anything.  However, in a very blank mom moment, I made her appointment in the morning.  It doesn’t help that on our way out the door, this morning, her father reminded her that she would be in trouble if this was all a ploy to be more like Harry Potter.  You guessed it, folks, my daughter is near sighted.  She can’t see the board from her seat in the second row and I am the biggest ass in the world, today.  No big deal, right?  There is always tomorrow where someone else has a turn to be the biggest ass.  Still things are not so bad.  The appointment is moving smoothly, except for the rotten smell coming from Evie’s butt and the fact that I had just changed her diaper a mere 5 minutes ago. Amber was going to get to school with some decent learning time left.  We were on track.  Then the first brick hit me in the face, $250 for glasses.  For a child. Little glasses.  That will probably be broken, lost, scratched, etc. within the first day of receiving them.  There is a reason I keep Amber’s possessions under a certain dollar amount, the girl would lose her head and not notice for a good couple of hours. I am not putting her down; just telling the truth.  I have seen the girl walk into walls, because she was too busy looking at something shiny.  And no that is not a joke or exaggeration.  So I get the warranty and we go on our way, just a little lighter in the wallet area.  That seals it, I better find another way to kill some time before picking up Sam instead of shopping.  Oh well, I knew that this child rearing was dirty business, although I never truly grasped how expensive children could be,  before.  OUCH!! I guess in my state of sticker shock, I forgot my phone.  It always happens.  You get everyone buckled into their respective carseats and BAM!!  you notice you forgot something.  Luckily, the people who work in the doctor’s office are saints and one of them brought me my phone (my life line to sanity).

We race through a drive through, since Amber had missed lunch, and get her to school before noon.  Doctor’s note explaining why she was wearing great grandmother’s Blublockers handed and filed in the office which meant Evie and I had 2 hours to kill before the afternoon race began.  We grabbed a little lunch at the SAHMs favorite hangout, Chick-fil-A and then ran a few little errands.

Everything was running smoothly in the afternoon race until we stopped at our normal gas station (minus Transsexuals today) for a snack.  Evie only had one shoe.  She had 2 when I last put her in her carseat.  She had 2 tucked under each arm the last time I turned around and checked on her, but alas there was only one shoe when I went to get her out.  The kids and I torn apart the back 2 rows and couldn’t find the other shoe.  Then it hits me.  Evie loves to take her shoes off whether it be 20 below or 120. The socks and shoes come off as soon as she gets in her seat.  No big deal the other kids did the same thing, except Evie loves to fling her shoes and socks around the car.  I figured that she had thrown her shoe between the door and the seat and when Amber opened the door to get in during carpool the shoe fell out onto the street.  After getting a snack, I race back to Amber’s school only to NOT find the shoe.  The anger bubbling up inside of me, I tell Amber to check lost and found when she goes to school, tomorrow, and I give Evie the stink eye, again, for good measure.  Earlier I had told her that we don’t throw our shoes outside of the car to which she pushed her bottom lip out and gave me puppy eyes.  Didn’t work this time, because this time I would be judge for taking my beginning walker out of the house without shoes.  What kind of mother does that?  I mean what kind of mother dare have her kid walk around on dirty floors with only her socks on?  Well, a mom who has a child that is trying out to be the next pitcher of the Zephrs. We make it to gymnastics where there is not one parking space to be found and large SUVs double parked everywhere.  I kick let Amber out and drive down the road a bit to calm down.  I, finally, make it back to the gymnastics parking lot to illegally park in a spot reserved for another business and sit.  Sam had fallen asleep, so Evie and I sit and relax for 45 minutes.  The day was not shaping up and I was losing my patience.

Sam wakes up whining, which just sets me off.  WHAT?! He has to go to the bathroom.  GREAT! It is pouring down rain and freezing.  I have to assess the situation, do I want to clean a pee filled booster seat or do I want to get a little wet?  Okay, everyone out and get under the umbrella.  Of course, Sam walks everywhere but under the umbrella and complains he is wet and cold.  I am trying to hold onto Evie, the diaper bag and umbrella.  We make it into the building where I close my umbrella and leave it in the foyer where the other wet umbrellas laid.  We all go do our business while Amber sits up front.  Ready to go home and have this day end, I walk to the foyer only to find not one umbrella left.  WAIT!  What the hell just happened?  Isn’t it etiquette that when you leave your wet umbrella at the front of a place no one takes it?  Did I miss a memo?  Amber then informs me that a woman had asked a girl at the desk if she could take an umbrella to go to her car to get her umbrella.  The girl said, “sure”.  Of course, she said sure, IT WASN’T HER DAMN UMBRELLA!  Here I am with 3 kids looking out the window for this woman who took my umbrella.  I see no one.  A man, sensing my aggravation, almost offers me his umbrella, but I stop him.  I want MY UMBRELLA!  Look I know umbrellas are a some what disposable item.  I have lost many over the years.  However, I found one that is the right size and opens with one button.  There is a reason that it remains in my car at all times.  Finally, I see a woman get out of a van with MY UMBRELLA!  She is walking up the stairs with MY UMBRELLA where I meet her with my GO AHEAD MESS WITH ME STARE.  She timidly ask, “Is this your umbrella” and asks, “do you need it?”  Here is where my day just crumbles into a big heap unto itself.  It takes every fiber of my being to just answer, “YES!”, instead of “HELL YEAH, BITCH!”.  I am still Southern, afterall.  So she runs back to get her umbrella from the car, because you doesn’t want to get wet.  Imagine that. At this point, I give up.  The day has beaten me and I was ready to just go home and crumble.  We pile into the car, Amber and Sam wet because they can’t, for the life of them, walk with me under the umbrella, Evie with her one shoe and me totally defeated.  Almost immediately the fighting in the third seat begins and it continues until I decide to blow the air horn (Oh, yes, I bought an air horn.  I saw them at the Dollar Store and decided this would be the perfect thing to break up the constant fights in the car. It works…for a minute and then it is business as usual.) The rest of the night is filled with alternating between doing laundry, making dinner, getting kids baths, reading books, taking care of bloody noses, answering a million questions about Harry Potter and glasses (sometimes related, sometimes not), doing dishes and not completely falling apart.  Tomorrow better be a hell of a lot better or I am going to junk punch someone.

 

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