It's been one of those hard days. I don't suffer from depression, but do ever have a day where you're mad/sad/pissed off and you really can't pinpoint a reason? Yeah, it was one of those days for me. So...instead of telling you all the reasons that may or may not have caused my Sybil behavior today, I'm going to focus instead on some of the lighter moments of the last few weeks (has it been that long since I've last written? Sheesh, I lose track of time.)
My parents came up for Labor Day weekend. My dad always insists on taking us out to eat, which usually ends up like this. But I picked a new Mexican restaurant, which is probably comparable to a Spanish Applebee's. It actually was a much more pleasant experience than usual. But we had something that you don't usually get at a restaurant...excellent service. Our waiter referred to the boys as "Amigo" as in, "More milk mi amigo?" And when one son swallowed wrong and started coughing, he came up and patted him on the back, telling him to, "drink slower, eh?" Which of course, prompted fake coughing from the other boy, just so he could get pats on the back as well. My highlight of the night was helping my dad finish his jumbo margarita. which should have come with two drunk goldfish, it was so big.
My husband has finally been recruited to be responsible for getting my youngest son to school....only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can't believe how complicated he makes things. I even made a checklist for him, so he would know which door to go in, where to hang the back pack, where he ate breakfast, etc. By the time Friday rolled around, my son asked me who was driving him to school. When I told him I was, he had his shoes on, his backpack ready and was nearly out the door. After much prodding, I found out what the problem was. I had told my husband that class started at 8:15 AM. To me, this means that I not only need to make sure that I have to get MYSELF to school on time, I need to get him there in time to A) find a parking space, B) get him into the building and down the hall to hang up his backpack and jacket, put his folder away, and walk back down the hall to sign up for breakfast C) give him enough time to actually eat breakfast and mingle with friends before class started. What this means to my husband...get him there at 8:14. My first sign should have been when my kid started sprinting from the car to the lunch room and into the breakfast line. Screw the backpack and jacket, he wanted to EAT.
My mornings are chaos. I have 3 backpacks to get ready, double check homework lists and make sure that everything that needs to be packed, is. I have to find mates to shoes and usually find them outside in the back yard. No kidding. I drop my oldest son at his bus stop at about 7:15 and then drive the youngest to school. It's a bit of a trek, but does allow us a lot of time to talk just he and I. Some of the things we talk about...
"Mom, I wish I were a gee-rill (girl)."
"Um, really, Kam? Why?"
"I want to play with ballerinas."
(Awkward silence.)
"Ballerinas?"
"Yeah, they have wings. But they're only for gee-rills."
Many thoughts here. He wants to be a ballerina? They have dolls at the school? Do I wait for a subject change?
"Um, dolls, Kam?"
"Yeah (small sigh of relief from mom)."
"Boys can play with dolls, hon. That's okay." No really. It's okay.
"No mom. Only gee-rills. (pause as he sees a white truck that he thinks he's seen before) AGAIN?! Are you kidding me?" Let the conversation go...whew!
Just to elaborate, we also talk about the little girl with glasses in his class. He doesn't know her name. But he knows that during a point in music class, everyone was supposed to high-five someone and nobody high-fived this girl...but he did. I met her and her mother (when he abandoned me for the breakfast line). I said, "This must be the girl Kamrin likes so much." The mom introduced her, and I told her I liked her glasses (which I really did) and then she said, "She talks about Kamrin too." I froze. Oh lord. What does she say? That he threw rocks at her on the playground? And why do I always suspect the worst? (Never mind, I already know.)
We also attended an anniversary party for our daycare providers who were celebrating 10 years. As we were walking in, my oldest pulled a John Travolta "Great Move" by running his hands along each side of his hair and informing me that he needed to, "look good for the ladies."
Yep, he's not egotistical, but he has the dance moves and he knows it. He danced for 2 and a half hours straight...by himself...showing off his "moves." Which consist of a lot of gun-finger-pointing, semi-break dancing moves, a hint of 70s disco, and a lot of running around in circles. The boy's shirt and hair were soaked with sweat and he complained his legs hurt at the end of the night. Kam, on the other hand, managed to collect at least 7 of the party favors (boxes filled with M-n-M's) under one of the tables. Hoarder.
I did endure a bunch of crushed toes as I danced with my oldest son, and try to remember some dance moves from my day as he rushed off, half a dance floor away, to do his moves before coming back to grab my hands to do some spins. Seriously. The boy's shirt was soaked and I wasn't about to touch his hair. Only after we got home did he inform me, "Isn't it a good thing a didn't wear underwear mom? They would have been gross!" Um, yeah, okay.
Other random moments included a book about frogs where Kamrin commented on "silly pads." Appropriate. Another attempt at Sunday school even after this. And still no enlightenment on the book of Revelations during adult bible study while I wait for the kids to get done. Still just don't get it. A lot of symbolism.
Oh. I managed to lock myself in a dog kennel. Thank you lord for small hands. (another blog.) No one knows though. Wait. They do now.
Is there a reason my blog is more popular when I don't write?
Anyway, time to go squeeze the bladder of my box of wine for just one more glass (aw, come on, you all do it)...
My parents came up for Labor Day weekend. My dad always insists on taking us out to eat, which usually ends up like this. But I picked a new Mexican restaurant, which is probably comparable to a Spanish Applebee's. It actually was a much more pleasant experience than usual. But we had something that you don't usually get at a restaurant...excellent service. Our waiter referred to the boys as "Amigo" as in, "More milk mi amigo?" And when one son swallowed wrong and started coughing, he came up and patted him on the back, telling him to, "drink slower, eh?" Which of course, prompted fake coughing from the other boy, just so he could get pats on the back as well. My highlight of the night was helping my dad finish his jumbo margarita. which should have come with two drunk goldfish, it was so big.
My husband has finally been recruited to be responsible for getting my youngest son to school....only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I can't believe how complicated he makes things. I even made a checklist for him, so he would know which door to go in, where to hang the back pack, where he ate breakfast, etc. By the time Friday rolled around, my son asked me who was driving him to school. When I told him I was, he had his shoes on, his backpack ready and was nearly out the door. After much prodding, I found out what the problem was. I had told my husband that class started at 8:15 AM. To me, this means that I not only need to make sure that I have to get MYSELF to school on time, I need to get him there in time to A) find a parking space, B) get him into the building and down the hall to hang up his backpack and jacket, put his folder away, and walk back down the hall to sign up for breakfast C) give him enough time to actually eat breakfast and mingle with friends before class started. What this means to my husband...get him there at 8:14. My first sign should have been when my kid started sprinting from the car to the lunch room and into the breakfast line. Screw the backpack and jacket, he wanted to EAT.
My mornings are chaos. I have 3 backpacks to get ready, double check homework lists and make sure that everything that needs to be packed, is. I have to find mates to shoes and usually find them outside in the back yard. No kidding. I drop my oldest son at his bus stop at about 7:15 and then drive the youngest to school. It's a bit of a trek, but does allow us a lot of time to talk just he and I. Some of the things we talk about...
"Mom, I wish I were a gee-rill (girl)."
"Um, really, Kam? Why?"
"I want to play with ballerinas."
(Awkward silence.)
"Ballerinas?"
"Yeah, they have wings. But they're only for gee-rills."
Many thoughts here. He wants to be a ballerina? They have dolls at the school? Do I wait for a subject change?
"Um, dolls, Kam?"
"Yeah (small sigh of relief from mom)."
"Boys can play with dolls, hon. That's okay." No really. It's okay.
"No mom. Only gee-rills. (pause as he sees a white truck that he thinks he's seen before) AGAIN?! Are you kidding me?" Let the conversation go...whew!
Just to elaborate, we also talk about the little girl with glasses in his class. He doesn't know her name. But he knows that during a point in music class, everyone was supposed to high-five someone and nobody high-fived this girl...but he did. I met her and her mother (when he abandoned me for the breakfast line). I said, "This must be the girl Kamrin likes so much." The mom introduced her, and I told her I liked her glasses (which I really did) and then she said, "She talks about Kamrin too." I froze. Oh lord. What does she say? That he threw rocks at her on the playground? And why do I always suspect the worst? (Never mind, I already know.)
We also attended an anniversary party for our daycare providers who were celebrating 10 years. As we were walking in, my oldest pulled a John Travolta "Great Move" by running his hands along each side of his hair and informing me that he needed to, "look good for the ladies."
I did endure a bunch of crushed toes as I danced with my oldest son, and try to remember some dance moves from my day as he rushed off, half a dance floor away, to do his moves before coming back to grab my hands to do some spins. Seriously. The boy's shirt was soaked and I wasn't about to touch his hair. Only after we got home did he inform me, "Isn't it a good thing a didn't wear underwear mom? They would have been gross!" Um, yeah, okay.
Other random moments included a book about frogs where Kamrin commented on "silly pads." Appropriate. Another attempt at Sunday school even after this. And still no enlightenment on the book of Revelations during adult bible study while I wait for the kids to get done. Still just don't get it. A lot of symbolism.
Oh. I managed to lock myself in a dog kennel. Thank you lord for small hands. (another blog.) No one knows though. Wait. They do now.
Is there a reason my blog is more popular when I don't write?
Anyway, time to go squeeze the bladder of my box of wine for just one more glass (aw, come on, you all do it)...
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