Sometimes, I have no idea what my children are saying to me. This weekend was a perfect example. The day after Christmas I was pretty exhausted. I was determined to do nothing. I stayed in my pajamas and we decided to watch the Divergent movies. The movie was highly entertaining. Especially since the lead male character is so incredibly good looking.
"Wow! What a handsome man. He really is good looking...."
Theo James - so adorable that I could eat him with a spoon
I must have gone on and on. Finally my 11 year old had enough. "Ewwww, mom. You thirsty," she blurted out.
I didn't know what that meant. I thought it meant horny. But surely that is something you would never accuse your mother of being. Especially if you are 11. I had to Google it. Desperate. She called me desperate. To top it off, she didn't even use correct grammar. It's you're thirsty, not - you thirsty.
Not only did having to look up this slang word make me feel old, my husband scoffed and said, "He's like- 10 years younger than you. You don't even have a chance."
I was like:
I had to correct him. "Actually, I am only 11 months older than him. Also, I could have a chance. Maybe he has incredibly low standards. Maybe he would be like, "Who needs a supermodel? I've always wanted to have a fling with a mom-type." It could happen."
He rolled his eyes, "No one wants to have a fling with a mom-type." BURN.
"You're just jealous that Theo James is my BFF. Boyfriend Forever."
That day, I learned that no one wants to have a fling with a mom-type and the urban definition of thirsty.
It's not the first time I've learned a new word.
There was the time I came downstairs and my daughter told me that my hair was "on fleek." I was confused. "Is that good or bad?"
She laughed. "It's good. It's on point."
"Oh! It's kind of like da bomb?"
"Mom, no one says the bomb anymore."
She is wrong - I am someone and I still say the bomb.
Later that night my husband complimented me on dinner. "I'm on fleek," I told him with a smile. "What does that mean?" I laughed. "You are too old. You wouldn't understand." My daughter was like:
Then there was the time we saw 2 kids holding hands at the bus stop and she pointed to them and said, "Goals!"
"They have goals? Like to go to college?"
"No, mom. Relationship goals."
"I don't understand."
"Like, it's something to aspire to."
"Holding hands? How about going to college or helping others? Like, college goals!"
"Oh my God. Stop!"
"Are we mom and daughter goals?"
"No."
She also had to explain to be what bae means because I thought it was baby. Sometimes she calls me bruh. "How's it going, bruh?"
"I am not your brother. I am your mother. You should call me muh, not bruh."
*Eye rolling*
Nothing makes you feel as old an uncool as the mother of a tween girl. Sometimes, we don't even speak the same language.
I f**king failed at Christmas this year. This is the first Christmas that I just wanted it to be done and over with. Which is really sad, because I usually love Christmas and am excited about it. This year I feel like it just came too quickly and there was too much to do. Plus, my kids were acting like jackholes which is a thing they do around Christmastime.
The Saturday before Christmas, I was sitting in the living room watching Home Alone 2 in front of the fire with the children when my husband walked in and said, "Do you know what you want for Christmas?" I didn't know what the answer was and I was a little suspicious.
"No. What?"
"A new kitchen."
What? You trippin. "Seriously. Let's go get appliances."
"Like now?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
So that's what we did. I got new stainless steel appliances and picked out paint, curtains, a new light fixture, a rug. The whole thing. They told us that they would deliver the appliances Christmas Eve. That seemed like a good idea at the time. Then I got home and realized that the kitchen needed to be painted and back splash needed to be done before the appliances came.
What a dumb ass idea right before Christmas. We painted the kitchen and got everything ready. In the meantime, there were still Christmas things to be done. I waited until the very last minute to take the kids Santa. Like, Christmas Eve. We show up and it's a 2 hour wait. The kids were like, "We're not waiting in line that long. Can we just take a picture and photo shop Santa in it?" I felt horrible. This is the first year that I didn't get their picture done with Santa. Bad Mom Award.
Somehow they talked me into spending $60 on pajamas. They guilt tripped me. "Well, since we didn't get to see Santa can you buy us jammies at Belk?" I would do anything. They didn't get to see Santa. Who shops at Belk? Millionaires? Sixty bucks for pajamas is OUTRAGEOUS.
The appliances came on Christmas Eve afternoon. They had to take off the front door to get the refrigerator in. My husband had to work all day and when he got home in the evening he hooked up everything. I was waiting on him to install the dishwasher to cook dinner. The wires were exposed so he turned off the electricity and the water. It was dark so he had me holding a flash light while the kids sat in the dark in the kitchen.
The waterline looked old as shit. This house is 13 years old but the water line looked like it was 50 years old. It was rusted through and all jacked up. Finally, as it approached 7 o'clock, I put my foot down. "It's Christmas Eve. Just turn the water off to the dishwasher and we can try again after Christmas." My husband finally relented and turned the electricity back on. I got to work making shrimp scampi while he cleaned up the kitchen.
"You have everything ready for the girls?"
"Yes."
"Did you get gifts for the dog?"
What the f**k? Really? I'm lucky that I got the kids covered. I have presents for my nephews in the back of my car still because I didn't get a chance to send them. The dog was not even on my radar.
"No. I didn't get gifts for the dog."
"What do you mean? Why not?"
"Because she's a god damned dog."
He was highly offended. "She is part of the family."
"She's a dog."
"I'm going to go get some gifts for the dog."
"Right now? Nothings open."
"Target is open."
This B called the kids down and they went to Target to get gifts for the dog. It gave me time to cook dinner and straighten out the house in peace. They came back with their gifts and the neighbors showed up with cookies and to exchange gifts with the kids. I was so grateful for the cookies. I did not feel like baking Santa cookies.
After they left we sat in front of the fire and watched 10 minutes of A Christmas Story before the kids started to fall asleep. We ushered them up to bed and then began Santa time.
We unloaded all the gifts we had hidden, attached bows and placed them artfully under the tree. We reminisced. "You know, on this night 15 years ago, you asked me to marry you." He smirked, "Great decision. We've been playing Santa for 12 years." How is that possible? All the years are blurring together. It's like Groundhog Day.
After we did the gifts, I stuffed the stockings. I discovered that I was missing an entire bag of stocking stuffers. I could not find them ANYWHERE. After a while, I said, "Screw it," and just overfilled their stockings with candy. I was so disappointed in myself. I'm going to find that bag in March, I'm sure.
We ate the cookies, drank the milk and put the stupid elf in his box and sent him back to the North Pole. Then it was time to sleep. We were exhausted.
Our 11 year old was the first one up on Christmas morning. At 5:00 am. Oh. My.God. We were up opening presents at 5:45. They opened their stockings first. My 11 year old was like, "There is only candy in here. This is crap." Kick me while I'm down why don't you? They opened their gifts and I thought I had gotten them an equal amount but my 11 year old somehow had more gifts. "I think Santa forgot a gift or two," I whispered to my husband. Nothing wins you the bad mom award more than getting more gifts for one child for Christmas than the other.
My 9 year old was gracious about it but I was hating myself. I must have forgotten something.
we cooked a large breakfast and then they put on sundresses and went outside to enjoy their gifts.
Yes, sundresses because it was 80 degrees outside. What the hell? It's hard to get in the Christmas spirit when it feels like Easter. I slaved away in the kitchen and then sat in my lawn chair and watched the kids play on their new scooter and skate board and tanned my legs.
Our family came for dinner and we had a nice time....then it was over. I was so relieved. Isn't that terrible?
We have spent the past few days recuperating from the holiday. This evening I took down the Christmas decorations. I found my 9 year old's missing gift in the garage. The mustache pillow! How did I forget the mustache pillow? I called her down.
"Look, there's a gift for you that fell out of Santa's sleigh!" She was so excited. I suck.
The tree is down and the Christmas decorations are packed up but there is one remnant of Christmas that still remains-dinner. I made so much food for Christmas dinner. I spent like hundreds and hundreds of dollars at the grocery store on Christmas dinner so I told the kids I wasn't going grocery shopping until we ate all the left overs. We've eaten ham for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past 4 days.
Tonight the children had a breakdown. My 9 year old was like, "I want Chinese food." I shook my head. "No, we are having ham." She cried actual tears. "But mom, we have ham every day. I am so tired of ham."
My husband gave her a stern look, "There are starving kids who would be happy to have that ham." Isn't that every parents line?
We chatted at dinner. Our daughter told us about a friend's cousin named Oliver.
"Is his last name Twist?" I asked. Literary humor. That's how we roll.
My husband joined in the fun. "Does he have a cousin named Huckleberry Finn?"
My daughter rolled her eyes. "He's Italian or something."
My husband said, "Does he have a cousin named Joey Fatone - the mobster?"
I almost choked on my ham. "Joey Fatone was in NSYNC. He is not a mobster."
Joey Fatone = not a mobster
We laughed so hard. "That was a pop culture fail," I snorted.
I'm being long winded and random but that's how my life is, so....
Sh*t is getting real with E-man. He wants to kiss my daughter. She knows that I know he wants to kiss her. We all know. My husband, my youngest daughter - sometimes we talk about it at dinner. We are all up in her business. He texts her about it. "Sooo....when do you think we will kiss?" She's always like, "I'm not ready" or "I don't know." He'll wait a few days and then ask again.
His new tactic is to be the nice guy and to give her time. "It's okay if you're not ready....but when you are, I'm ready." Dude, take a cold shower. The strategizing starts so EARLY. My husband uses that tactic on me to this day. "I know you have a headache and that you don't want to. That's okay. But if you change your mind, I'll be around." It's must be a male thing. They are like, If I pretend like I'm a nice guy - no pressure then maybe it will be like reverse psychology. She'll think it's HER idea.
Females are much too smart for that. We know when we are being conned.
For Christmas, she got him a giant Hershey Kiss. Well, I got him one because she doesn't have a job. She laughed about it. "He keeps saying he wants a kiss from me, so that's what he's going to get." She's so funny.
If they actually did kiss I think it would be more like this:
and less like this:
But still, I don't really like it.
E-man has stayed away for a few weeks but he showed up at the house today. She pulled on her hoodie and joined him outside. The two of them sat on the electric box on the side of the house for an hour. My nine year old spied on them and gave me the play-by-play.
"Right now they are looking at his phone."
"Now they are looking at the sky."
"Now they are laughing."
I looked out the window and caught a glance of them sitting side by side on this big box. She swung her feet back and forth and he looked at her with hearts in his eyes. Jesus Christ. She likes him. A lot.
This is such a fun and weird age. I don't know if I am doing the right thing by just sitting back and letting things play themselves out. How do you know the right thing?
I don't know how we got here exactly. How so much time has passed. How my little, squishy, bald headed baby has turned into an adult-sized child who sits on the electric box in the front yard with a boy who keeps asking to kiss her.
The reality has set in. She is going to kiss a boy someday. Both of my daughters are going to kiss boys someday. I'm just not ready for it to be soon.
This morning, I was awoken by my nine year old asking me 100 questions. I opened my eyes and she was two feet in front of me. "Mom, do you know what the weather is going to be today? Have you seen my book? Can we go get a Christmas outfit today?" Oh my God. "I don't know, I haven't, lets talk about it later, take a shower." She frowned at me but disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. I closed my eyes in the hope of getting 10 more minutes of sleep. Two minutes later, my sleep was interrupted by this sound:
Holy crap! My 11 year old set her alarm to the imperial march and it's not a pleasant sound to wake up to. It's actually quite alarming and makes me feel like I am about to be killed. Darth Vader never showed up but my 11 year old crawled into bed with me. "Mom, I need to get a gift for A, J, and E-man. Don't forget that we need to go get pencil tonight and you need to get all the stuff to make cupcakes for the Christmas party."
Ugggghhhh. Don't tell me this crap before I have a cup of coffee in the morning. They should know this by now. I dragged my butt out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast. My youngest made her way down and petitioned me to buy her an outfit.
"I was thinking for Friday, we could go get a green shirt, red skirt, and shoes will bells on them. Like elf shoes."
"I am not buying you a new outfit that you are only going to wear once."
"Please mom. I have to. All of my friends are going to do it."
She whined and moaned until I gave in. On the condition that we go to Once Upon a Child. She agreed.
This evening, we got home, I made dinner and then we got ready to venture out. It was 6 pm and pitch dark. It felt like 9 pm. I did not want to go out. As we were getting ready to go, my 11 year old said: "Mom, we have to go get Star Wars tee-shirts."
"Why?"
"Because we are going to the movie tomorrow night and we need to represent."
They are going to the movie tomorrow night. My husband purchased opening night tickets to Star Wars in September. IMAX 3-D expensive-ass movie tickets. The movie starts at 10:00 pm on a school night.
I did not agree with it. "Dude, they have to go to school the next day."
"It's the last day before Christmas break. They won't be learning anything. We can just send them to school in their sweat pants."
"Seriously? You couldn't just go see it on Saturday?"
He looked at me like I had 3 heads. "This is like a historic event. It cannot wait until Saturday. The kids need to experience this."
I can't believe that I am going to allow this. Bad Mom Award.
Anyway, we went to Once Upon a Child to get this damn outfit. My daughter picked out her clothes and went into the dressing room. There were 2 benches by the dressing room and my oldest daughter sat down. I joined her a moment later and as soon as my bottom touched the bench, she stood up and moved to the other bench.
God forbid she be seen sitting next to her MOTHER in PUBLIC. That would just be unacceptable. I sat alone on the bench and before long a young mother walked by. She was holding a baby in one arm and pushing her cart with the other. She had a young child who she situated in the dressing room. Then she sat down next to me.
Her baby was so cute, she had such big eyes. The mom asked the baby, "Are you going to let me put you down?" as she set the baby in the cart. The baby began to cry. She picked the baby up and the baby was silent. She tried to put the baby in the cart again and she cried again. She picked the baby up and the baby was instantly silent.
The mother let out a long, resigned sigh. The baby must be held. There was no other option. "Oh man. I had two of those," I commented to her. Boy - did I. My kids never tolerated being put down. They pretty much were strapped to my body the first two years of life. They didn't even like my husband to hold them. The struggle is real.
She turned to me. "Really?" I nodded. "If it's any consolation, there will be a point in time where she won't even want to be around you. That's my daughter over there. She won't even sit next to me." I motioned to her on the other bench. She was sitting there like:
What a B.
She held her baby over her shoulder and just vented. "I don't get it. My son wasn't like this. She always wants to be held. She always wants me. She's 8 months old and she sleeps in my bed. It's the only way I can get any sleep. I'm still breastfeeding and my family thinks I'm crazy. It's just so hard!"
That's a lot to tell a stranger, but whatever. I didn't know what to tell her. I'm not a good advice giver. She wasn't really even asking for advice. "One day, you'll look back and you won't regret any time you spent holding your baby. She won't sleep in your bed forever. You are giving the baby the best you can. It get's better, I promise."
It does get better, but Lord knows - it doesn't get easier. My 9 year old exited the dressing room then and I got up to leave. "You're a good mom. Merry Christmas!" I said to her before I left.
When your children are babies and very young children life is so hard. Every day is a lesson in survival. When you are in it, you feel like you will always be in it. When the days turn to weeks that turn to months without adequate sleep, massive pre-planning to leave the house EVERY TIME, a crying kid on your hip, cheerios ground into the carpet, ect.... you just feel like your life will never be normal again.
Then one day you wake up and your children are as tall as you are and spend more time avoiding you ever thought possible and you reminisce about the days you wasted with a baby napping on your chest.
They get older, and it gets easier. But not too much easier. I was reminded of this at our next stop. We went to AC Moore to get bells so I could make the damn elf shoes. My kids for some reason were having an argument. Loudly. In public. I don't even know what they were fighting about.
"You're stupid."
"Well, you're ugly."
"I hate you."
I turned around and save them the mean mom whisper. "Shut your mouths now. Both of you."
They had to keep going. "She started it."
"No, you started it."
"No, you did. Jerk."
Finally, I yelled at them - in public. "You're both horrible. Shut your mouths and separate NOW or you are going to regret it!"
This lady in the aisle looked at me like: You shouldn't call your kids horrible.
What she didn't know is that I wanted to call them a-holes. I stand by my statement. I love them, but they have the tendency to be horrible at times.
We went to check out and they stood behind me with their arms crossed, giving each other mean looks. Tis the season to be jolly.
Things have been a little crazy around here with a sick kid and getting ready for the holidays. You might remember that last week my daughter informed me that the elf on the shelf will bring Santa his letter and that Santa will send one back in return.
She got to work right away, writing her letter. She sealed it in an envelope and wrote SANTA in big letters across the front. She set the letter down next to the elf and said, "Don't try to open it. It's for Santa."
When she woke up the next morning the letter was gone and the elf was wrapped around a bottle of tequila. I thought it was funny. Maybe not appropriate or in the spirit of Christmas, but whatever.
That morning after I dropped her off at school, I tore open the letter and read it. It read something like this: "Dear Santa,
Merry Christmas! How is everything in the North Pole? I hope this letter brings you the Christmas spirit. I have tried to be a good girl this year. For Christmas I want...." Then she went on to list 18 items! Holy Quacamole.
On the list was: an electric razor scooter, a hover board, a BB-8, monogrammed cowboy boots, monogrammed scarf, monogrammed cross body bag, Samsung headphones, Dove shampoo and conditioner, dry shampoo, a mustache pillow. Also, lotion. Not special lotion. Just lotion. I was like:
The scooter, hover board and BB-8 would be $800 all together.
I wrote a letter on special Santa paper that read something like this:
"Imagine my surprise when Green Peppermint himself showed up with your letter. It made me so happy! Things are very busy here in the North Pole. Mrs. Claus makes sure I have plenty and cookies and hot chocolate while I check the list twice.
You are on the nice list! You have been a good girl this year. Make sure to continue to try your best and listen to your parents.
I will work hard to make Christmas morning magical for you but be grateful for everything you receive." AKA - you better not be bitchin when you don't get all the 18 items on your list.
I folded it up and left it out with the elf. I sprinkled glitter all around so that it could seem magical. She was so excited to get it. It made me feel bad that I hate the elf so much. My husband looked at the letter on the special paper and the glitter and whispered in my ear, "When did you find time for that?"
"I didn't. Santa brought it."
I have gone a little overboard with the kids gifts this year. But a lot of their gifts are boring. Like lotion. I spent $43 in Bath and Body Works this week. There was only 3 things on the counter and when the lady told me the total, I almost lost my mind. I looked at her like, "For what? These 3 things? How can that be?" I handed her my debit card slowly, with a look of pain on my face. They better make that lotion last all year because that s**t is crazy.
I did buy my 9 year old the razor scooter, a mustache pillow, headphones, and a bunch of other crap.
My 11 year old's list was much more reasonable. Converse high-tops (all white), a penny board, some pencils and a sketch pad, a Totoro messenger bag, and underwear.
What kind of kid asks for underwear? Neglected kids. "Why did you need underwear? You have plenty of underwear."
"No, I don't. I also need socks."
She asked for it specifically so I am going to put them in a special box and act like they are a legit gift. I even threw some socks in there.
The shopping for the kids is mostly done. I still need to get gift cards for all the teachers. Secret Santa gifts for like, 20 people. I feel like I have a lot of time but it's only 13 days away now. The panic will definitely settle in by this time next week. I'll be broke, tired, and overwhelmed but we'll get there. As long as I don't have to step foot back in Bath and Body Works, I'll be happy. Please help me, baby Jesus!
I had the most mortifying moment ever today. I totally brought it on myself. My self loathing is especially strong tonight.
I have to preface this story by explaining my mindset. I live in pubertyville. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. It's a land of shaving cream, tampax, mood swings, bras, deodorant, eye rolling and boys showing up at the house with puppy dog eyes asking to hang out with my daughter. I'm just over here like:
My husband and I joke about it all the time. It's the only way we can stay sane.
About a week ago my daughter asked if she could go to the movies with some friends. One of those friends included E-man. I debated it. My husband and I talked about it and ultimately, I decided to let her go. I dropped my youngest off at a birthday party and then I dropped off my oldest at her friend's house where they were meeting before the movie. Then, I went to have dinner with my husband.
We went to the sandwich shop on the corner. There was no one in there. It was after dark and super quiet. I was glad, we had the whole place to ourselves. They served us our food and we lamented.
"Our daughter is at the movies with middle school kids and boys!" I said.
"I know," he said in agreement.
That's when I said something that I probably shouldn't have said. I should have just kept it in my f**king head but all I could think about was this 12 year old boy sitting next to my daughter in the movie theater. "That kid better not have a spontaneous erection while sitting next our daughter," I said with a laugh.
I wasn't trying to be mean. I am realistic. We live in pubertyville, that is a thing that could happen. It probably happens all the time. It's a part of life.
That's when a man at the counter turned around. It was so quiet and we were so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn't heard him come in. "Hey! How are you?" he said with a smile.
Who was this gentleman? It was E-man's dad.
I was absolutely mortified. This man heard me speculating about his son's raging-hormone-pants-party in a sandwich shop. Like the a**hole that I am. I wanted to crawl under the table.
He was cool about it, didn't say anything. We made awkward small talk. Then he got his sandwiches and left. He is a nice guy and I am a total douche bag.
When it was just me and my husband again he started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to squirt soda out of his nose. He couldn't breathe. "That was like something out of a movie. I swear to God. The minute you said spontaneous erection he turned around and it was his dad! What is the likelihood of that? It could only happen to you."
Sh*t like that does only happen to me. I wanted to crawl under my the table. I hate myself so much. I can never face his parents ever again. Open mouth and insert both feet. FML.
It's Christmas time again. This weekend we decorated. The kids argued with me over what should go where. We draped garland, hung stockings and put up our tree. We spent $250 on Christmas lights. It was painful for me. I didn't like it.
My husband thought we needed to step up our Christmas light game. I went out and got all kinds of lights and reindeer set. The reindeer moves it's head. It's legit. My 9 year old spotted our neighbor on the roof having icicle lights and my 9 year old started giving us a guilt trip. "Why don't we have icicle lights? Everyone else's house is going to look better than ours."
So my husband went back to the store to get icicle lights. I was busy making dinner and I went out to check the progress. He was on the roof which made me extremely nervous. I love him, he just reminds me of the kind of guy that would fall off of a roof. I was like:
He rolled his eyes at me.
He did a good job. Our Christmas light game is strong. I WILL be complaining about the electric bill next month. Stay tuned for that.
Now that the house is decorated and the lights are up, it is time to concentrate on the gifts. I did a lot of the kids stuff already. Of course, they always change their mind. I asked my 11 year old again what she wants. "Just some sketch pads and colored pencils."
"I thought you wanted a penny board."
"I did but I changed my mind."
Too bad. I purchased it already, she better like it. My 9 year old told me that she "hasn't decided" yet. Take your time. We have all the time in the world. Actually, let me know on Christmas Eve. I like living on the edge...
My husband the other day sent me a link and texted me, "This is what I want for Christmas." AGreat! Finally, someone who is direct and know what he wants. A Swiss Gear laptop backpack. Easy enough. Then he called me today and said, "I ordered that backpack today." WTF? I replied, "I'm wrapping that shit up and you better act surprised on Christmas morning."
I never want anything for Christmas but this year I want REAL perfume. Like Dior J'adore. But I'm cheap so I don't want my husband to buy it. He'll just walk into a department store and pay $100 like he's Oprah Winfrey or something. I want him to go online and use a coupon. I'll just buy it myself and tell him to give it to me. He's doing it with the backpack, so that seems fair.
Of course it would not be the Christmas season without the Elf on the Shelf. Our elf has been moving around but has not been up to any mischief. I'm too lazy for all of that. I had to go out of town for work yesterday and came home this evening.
My nine year old came up to me with a concerned look on her face. "Mom, last night the elf did not move."
I looked at my husband like:
"Hmmm....maybe he was tired." She shrugged, "That's okay because I'm going to write my letter to Santa and give it to the elf and he will make sure to bring it to him. Did you know that if you do that Santa will send you a letter back?"
No. I didn't know that. Now I have to write a letter, put glitter in it, make it be magic. This elf thing is really out of control. The worst part about him is that his arms and legs are not pose-able. You would think he would have wire in his arms and legs so you could hang him easily from things. No. The elf is an asshole.
I'm not going to let it get to me though. Trying to focus on the real meaning of the season - giving back, time with family, baby Jesus. Only 22 more days until Christmas eve!
It's been a crazy month. Today is the first day in weeks that I am home with no quests and no plans. Last night I finally finished unpacking from our trip. I haven't been to the grocery store since the beginning of November. I'm going to go today. It'll cost me a small fortune to re-stock.
I was going to go yesterday but I wound up having to work all day and came home with a wicked headache. When it was time to make dinner, I was a little concerned because I didn't have a lot to work with. I thought this would be an excellent time to eat up what was left in the house.
I had 1/2 a dozen eggs, 4 slices of cheese, some clementines, 1 pear, 4 frozen pancakes, 1 frozen chocolate chip waffle. I decided that I would make breakfast for dinner. I scrambled some eggs, heated up the pancakes, peeled the clementines, cut the waffle into fourths and threw a random slice of cheese on there for calcium. I used the last packet of Crystal Light pink lemonade, poured the drinks and laid the plates on the table. Not the healthiest dinner, or the fanciest, but we had some of the food groups represented. It was adequate.
I called the kids down to eat. They sat down at the table and looked at their plates.
You have to remember that for the past 3 weeks we have either been on a cruise ship or with family celebrating Thanksgiving. They have been eating filet, shrimp, pizza, fresh baked cookies, turkey and mashed potato. They basically have been living the good life. The dinner in front of them was a reminder that we are back to our middle class living.
My youngest said, "What is this?" My oldest said, "Gross, mom. You need to go to the grocery store." Thank you, Captain Obvious. "This would be a feast to a lot of kids in the world. Now be grateful and eat your dinner." They ate their dinner and didn't say another word because I gave them *that* look. The look that said, if you keep busting my balls - I won't buy you anything for Christmas.
Growing up, my parents were beast mode at clearing out the cabinets. My dad would take everything in the house and make stew of leftover whatever. We'd have 2 hot dogs left and he'd chop them up, throw them in with a big can of baked beans that was collecting dust in the back of the cabinet, pour in the potato chip crumbs from the almost empty bag that one of us a**hole kids put back, throw the last slice of American cheese in there. "It's like a hash," he'd say. He would eat it like it actually tasted good.
You never complained that there was no food in the house. "Dad, there is nothing to eat!" He would look at you seriously and say, "We have ketchup, mayo, and mustard in the fridge. Make a condiment sandwich."
Good times.
In other news, our elf made an appearance after Thanksgiving. We have been home for 2 nights and I have forgotten to move him approximately 2 times. Every morning, it's been the race downstairs to put him somewhere before my 9 year old comes down.
I am really limited by what I can do with the elf because I have to keep him up high or the dog will eat him. I have half a mind to let her. That damn dog will eat anything. She chewed the corner of my daughter's passport the other day. What a b**ch. It runs in the family.
Well, I better get off my ass and to the grocery store before there is a mutiny. All we have left to eat is condiment sandwiches.
I am officially back from vacation and tomorrow I will go back to work and the children will return to school. *Sigh* It was good while it lasted.
We had a wonderful time. It was so great that it is almost indescribable. The children were well behaved and pleasant to be around (you never know with my kids what you are going to get). We had so much fun. I had to pinch myself to make sure it was real. I felt like I got a glimpse into how the other half lives. I didn't want it to end. But alas, nothing lasts forever. Friday morning, I stepped off the Disney Dream deflated.
"Man, when we get home, I'm going to walk into the house and be like, 'This place is a dump!'" I told my husband when I settled into into the front seat for the drive home. That is exactly what happened. My house will never be as clean as a Disney cruise ship....or anything that is remotely clean.
The reality of being back hit me hard. There is so much to catch up on. Laundry, grocery shopping...I have to cook meals again. Damnit!
My husband loves it. Whenever I'm in the kitchen slaving away over the stove he comes up behind me, slides his arms around my waist and says, "I love to see a woman in her natural habitat." He's the worst.
I feel like MONTHS have passed since we were home, even though it's only been a week. When we left it was warm outside and it was still fall. We come home and it's cold, there is Christmas music playing on the radio, and Christmas trees being sold all over the city. Suddenly - the holidays are here.
We have so much to do over the next 5 weeks that I cannot even think about it. Besides work and school, the kids both have concerts, we have 3 dance performances to attend, 2 choral performances, a gymnastic competition, 3 Christmas parties, PTA meetings, shopping, remembering to move that damn elf around every night.....
I'm going to let some things go. Probably the laundry and most definitely my sanity. My Christmas cards will be shitty this year - if I even remember to send them out. I am too blessed to be stressed. I'm not going to be stressed. I refuse. I'm just going to do the best I can and enjoy the holidays.
If that doesn't work, plan B is to eat my feelings and drink margaritas out of my Santa mug.
My husband left for ARMY basic training 13 days before 9/11. There were no phone calls home. Only letters that trickled in every few days. The world was a dreary place without him in it. His absence was unbearable, a crushing weight on my chest every day. I counted the months until we could be together again. That hope, that light at the end of the tunnel is what kept me going.
At the first opportunity, I packed up my things and drove cross country to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. We were together again. I couldn't have been happier. Life as an ARMY wife was new and exciting. It was this different world that I never knew existed.
The Iraq War started 9 months into our marriage. We knew it was coming for months. The sound of artillery boomed through the day and night, shaking the glass in the window panes. In the early mornings we could see the units in formation; they would be deploying soon.
There were talks of his unit deploying. It seemed unlikely, he worked in finance but they did field training to keep their combat skills fresh. His rucksack and kevlar sat in our hall closet, waiting to be used. I was afraid. The idea of him going off to this new war terrified me.
One night as we laid in bed, I curled up into him and listened to the artillery shells being fired. "Do you think you'll be deployed?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"But what if you do?"
"Then I'll go." He said it with such nonchalance that I was taken back.
"But you could die."
"I know."
"What do you mean? What about me?"
"I love you but if the ARMY tells me that I have to go-then I'll go and if I die then it will be okay. It will be for a good cause. I knew this when I signed up. I made a commitment."
I hated him for feeling that way. I resented the ARMY too. He made a commitment to ME. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him again. I was 19 and I needed him with me. I didn't understand.
I worked at a Subway right outside the gate to Fort Sill that summer. One afternoon I was at work enjoying the peace and quiet after the lunch rush. There was a nursing home and a dry cleaner right across the street and I saw people starting to gather along the street in front of the nursing home. They were in wheel chairs and some had pulled out folding chairs. Our parking lot soon filled with cars and people got up and stood along the road. Some held signs.
I left my post behind the counter to go outside and find out what was going on. I asked a woman and she told me that one of the units was coming home. I stood out on the sidewalk, the hot Oklahoma sun shone down as I watched and waited with the group.
Before long, buses began to pass by. There were camouflaged arms hanging from the windows. Their hands waving as the crowd that lined the streets clapped and whistled. On the other side of the road, an old man in a wheel chair had raised his hand in a full salute.
In that moment, I understood. My husband was part of something that was bigger than I was. He believed in this country, in this brothers who served. I wiped a tear from my eye. My heart swelled with pride. I've carried that moment with me ever since.
My husband got out of the ARMY just a few months later. He was spared a deployment to Iraq. He transitioned back into the civilian world very easily. Soon his time in the military seemed like a distant memory. When people find out that he served they always thank him for his service. He used to hate it. I asked him once why it makes him uncomfortable. "I didn't really do anything. I didn't have to go overseas or anything...."
He felt like he is not deserving when many have given their lives, have come back injured, have seen war and it's atrocities. God had different plans for him but I tell him that he IS deserving. He was willing to go. If he would have gotten the call he would have given his life for this country. How many people can say that? He is brave and honorable. He has gotten much better about it. Now when people thank him he smiles and says a soft "thank you" in response. He is humble and I respect him so much.
Happy Veteran's Day to all who served - especially my own veteran who showed me what it means to live with a patriotic spirit. I love you!
I came home from work the other day and my daughter asked to go to a boy's house. "We're doing a school project and he's filming a PSA and his mom is going to help. Can I go?"
It was E. I'll call him E-man. She wanted to go to E-man's house. "I have to call his mom."
I called her to make sure everything was legit. I know about being sneaky. I was in 6th grade once. "Hey! This is C's mom. So, E-man is filming something for a project and my daughter is supposed to help?"
"Yeah. I work in media so I'm helping. She can come over around 5:30."
"Ok. I'll see you then!"
I loaded her in the car and I drove her over to the boy's house in the neighborhood next to ours. Uggh. I pulled into the driveway and his mom was on the porch setting up the camera. I introduced myself and we chatted for a while. She invited me in her home so I could ensure that they weren't serial killers. Seemed legit. "I'll be back in an hour and a half."
When I picked her up they were eating pizza.They showed me the script and I tousled the hair of E-man's two year old brother.
The boy has been showing up at my house every evening now. E-man has been showing up and asking to see my daughter. It's a little disconcerting. He's a nice looking kid and I think he really likes my daughter. This afternoon I went up the street to pick my glasses that had just come in. I was on my way home when I got a text from my neighbor. "E-man is in your front yard." Good looking out.
I pulled up and they were standing in my driveway. "Hey E-man. You want to come in?" He shrugged, "Sure." The kids followed me inside. "C's dad is bringing home pizza. Do you want to stay for dinner?"
He shook his head, "No, ma'am."
My daughter spoke up. "He's afraid of dad."
"Are you afraid of my husband?" I asked.
"No." he replied. "Well, kind of."
"He's really not that scary." I did not convince him.
They went back outside while I straightened the house. My husband pulled up and E-man immediately got on his bike and waved good bye. He is petrified of my husband. He got out of the car. "What's wrong with that kid."
"He's afraid of you."
"Good."
"Be nice. I told him he could stay for pizza."
"You are encouraging this?"
"Encouraging what?"
"Boys."
I don't encourage boys but E-man is not a bad kid. His text messages to my daughter are appropriate. He's a cute kid. He gets good grades. They are in middle school. Boys and girls are going to want to hang out with each other. It's not an abnormal thing. If I were to forbid that she have no friends who are boys it will only make her want to have more boyfriends. I know. I was there once. That's how I became a child bride. haha.
My husband is just exasperated, "I just remember being a 12 year old boy." Yeah and a 13,14,15,16, 18, 26, 30 year old boy. It's all the same. If he has a problem now just imagine in 3 years when she is in high school with 18 year old men.
That's going to be a f**king nightmare. We'll get through it though.
Between work, keeping the house and E-man, I'm feeling a little stressed. I had a terrible headache this evening. I felt tense. I popped a few Excedrin and ran a hot bath. I lit some candles and played the classical piano station on Pandora. I slid my tired body into the tub and rested my head again the edge. The hot water felt so good. I laid there and meditated. I closed my eyes and pretended I had not a care in the world. I love baths. They are so relaxing. Until I get out.
Whenever I get out of the bathtub, I think of my 7th grade study hall teacher. He was a morbidly obese man and he always fell asleep in class. He had narcolepsy or something. He was terribly mean. One day we were sitting in study hall and he asked, "How many of you in here like to take baths? Raise your hand." I wasn't sure why he was asking this but he always asked weird questions before he went into a tirade about something.
I raised my hand, a few other kids did too. "Did you see the people that raised their hands? They like sitting in a pool of their own filth," he said. All the kids laughed and I slunk into my chair. I was a self conscious 12 year old. OMG. Everyone thinks I like sitting in a pool of my own filth. I thought. I hated myself. I felt stupid and dirty. Why did he do that? Just to be mean.
I think about that event every time I take a bath. He kind of ruined baths for me. What a jack hole. I own taking baths now. Yes. I enjoy laying in a pool of my own filth. It's filth that was on my body all day and it didn't bother me that much. I enjoy my own filth so much that I would drink bath-water martinis.
I'm rambling now. Off to pay attention to my poor, neglected husband.
I had a vision of what Halloween would be like. I would wake up early to get my grocery shopping out of the way. I would light a pumpkin candle and listen to the Monster Mash as I carved pumpkins with the children who would laugh and be in good spirits. After dinner they would get into their costumes and run excited out the door, pillowcases in hand for a night of trick or treating. I would smile to myself and feel like an awesome, amazing mother.
Reality gave me a bitch slap on Halloween. I woke up and realized that the house was a mess. I cleaned it and then went to the grocery store. I came home and unloaded the groceries and was still feeling confident that the day would go as planned.
I set two large pumpkins on the dining room table and told the kids to put on their costumes for a trunk or treat that we were attending in the afternoon. They ran off and I prepared lunch. My 9 year old came down in her costume with a frown in her face. "I hate this costume and I don't want to wear it!" she declared.
What the hell. "What's wrong with it?"
She started to cry, "I just hate it. I wanted you to get me the other one we saw online."
She wanted me to buy her a $75 costume and she settled on the $40. Big problem.
She cried for 20 minutes. I told her to get out of my face. I was so irritated. I told her to find another costume. I purchased a pirate costume for the Disney cruise I'm taking these ungrateful kids on in a few weeks and she refused, declaring, "I hate that costume too." Lord give me strength.
Finally I got down to her level to reason with her. "Why do you hate your costume so much?"
She sniffled, "I hate the wig. It gets in my face, the sleeves are itchy and it's Monster High and everyone is going to laugh at me because Monster High is so childish."
Yes, it is. You are a 9 year old CHILD.
Before I knew it I was CUTTING the sleeves off of this expensive-ass costume and stripping it of all of it's Monster High paraphernalia. On Halloween. The day of. I told her not to wear the wig. Finally, the costume was acceptable. Trunk or treating wound up getting canceled after the whole ordeal. Whatever.
We carved the pumpkins to settle down. My oldest daughter had a friend over who helped. They scooped and got their hands all gooey and helped me sort out the seeds for roasting. That's when there was a knock at the door.
I went over and there were two boys on my front stoop, their bikes were parked in the driveway. "Is C here?" I was like:
I didn't say hell though. I said, "You know my daughter?"
The tall boy nodded. "Yes ma'am."
"What's your name?"
"E."
"You're in 6th grade?"
"I am, he's in seventh," he replied, pointing at his friend.
I looked at him sideways.
"You behave yourself?"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
I yelled for my daughter who emerged with her friend. "You have someone here to see you. Stay in the front yard."
The four of them stood in the yard. Talking. I sat on the couch and glanced out the window every other second. I turned to my husband. "Boys showed up to the house to see our daughter. Boys taller than me."
He laughed, "It's the worst."
She came in a little while later. "Can E come trick or treating with us?"
"Sure."
"Can you call his mom?"
So I called his mom and told her the more the merrier. I will always let the kids have their friends with us. That's how I keep an eye on them.
Soon it was time to get ready for trick or treating. I did my 9 year old's makeup. Another 11 year old came over and the 3 girls went upstairs to get ready. After awhile my 11 year old came downstairs. She was wearing a dress, sneakers and make up on her face. Like, normal makeup.
"Where's your costume?"
She smiled to reveal fangs. "I'm a vampire."
"You need to put blood on your face and dark under your eyes or something. If you are trick or treating you need to wear an actual costume."
She pouted and went back upstairs. She came down a short time later and looked exactly the same.
"Where is your costume?"
She brushed her hair aside to show me two small black dots on her neck. "I have bite marks."
I lost my shit. "IF YOU ARE TRICK OR TREATING YOU NEED TO PUT SOMETHING ON YOUR FACE!!!! IT'S HALLOWEEN. YOU NEED TO WEAR A COSTUME!"
She gave me a dirty look and said -actually said- "I don't like you."
"The feeling is mutual," I yelled as she stomped up the stairs.
She came back down and had drawn what looked like stitches around her lips and cheeks. I was so pissed at her I was red. I growled at her through clenched teeth, "I hope people deny you candy for your half-assed costume." Bad Mom Award. I also refused to take her picture by herself. Terrible.
The three boys showed up and we met up with our group. It started off great. We were hitting every house and people had gone all out. Haunted houses, people chasing kids with chainsaws. It was epic. By the end of the night we were walking around with 6 sixth graders, a seventh grader and my fourth grader. The older kids were being loud and obnoxious. We constantly had to remind them to walk on the sidewalk and not the street.
My husband and I were under the impression that the kids just wanted to be hit by cars. Once you hit puberty your self preservation side of your brain just goes to shit. That's the only explanation.
By the time we got home, I was so done. My jack-hole kids REFUSED to give up ONE piece of candy. Not one. My husband ran to the store to get us drinks. I had a margarita and plopped my tired butt on the couch to watch Beetlejuice. I feel asleep before it was over. You know, because yelling at kids is exhausting. Happy Halloween!
I went out of town for work yesterday. Just one night. I used to travel frequently for work and I forgot how amazing it is.
I'm just kidding. It sucks to be away from the kids and people look at you like you are sad when you eat alone in the restaurant but it is nice to have a little break and not have to worry about the dishes and packing lunches. I just left that up to my husband.
I checked in this evening and they acted like I was special because I still have my Diamond status until the end of the year. Soon, I will become a nobody in the eyes of Hilton but for now I still get free bottles of water.
I laid down for a while, worked out and then took a hot shower. I stood in the shower and thought, "This is rare."
I never get a good shower. I always get a cold shower after someone else has taken a shower. My youngest daughter takes a shower in the morning and my husband right after so I take a shower at night. I fight with my oldest daughter about it. Like, every night. I'll go to walk into the shower and she always beats me to it. My husband is always in the other bathroom for years.
I try to lay down the law like a legit parent but she always feeds me some bullshit line like, "But I still have to read and it's getting late and I feel so gross."
I relent, "OK, but make it quick."
"OK," she says.
But she never makes it quick. She makes it the opposite of quick. She stays in the shower forever. I don't know what she does in there. After 15 minutes I'll knock on the door. She screams, "I'm almost done. I'm washing my hair." By almost done, she means 10 more minutes.
If I knock on the door at 15 minutes in and she screams, "I'm shaving my legs!" I know to just give up. I might as well sponge bathe in the kitchen sink. She always comes out with a towel on her head and one around her body. The last clean towels in the house. Every time.
"You took too long," I scowl. She rolls her eyes. Punching urges happen. Then I get to take a shower. It's always lukewarm for 2 minutes before the water gets cold. I rinse my hair in cold water. Then I step out and dry myself off with whatever token damp towel is hanging on the hook. I guess this towel is dry enough.
The sad thing is that it doesn't even bother me anymore. I've accepted it. This is what my life is. But last night I took a LONG hot hotel shower. No one interrupted me. It was glorious. Then I pulled the towel from the rack.It was so dry. I know 28 strangers probably used it before me but screw it. Hotels are so gross. I think everything is covered in invisible jizzle and e.coli poop particles.
Yesterday was a nice vacation from my regular routine. Speaking of vacations, we are going on our cruise in less than 3 weeks. I feel a little overwhelmed with it. I printed packing lists, am working on getting all the kid's homework they need to turn in and need to get a ton of stuff in order at work for when I'm gone. I need a vacation to recover from getting ready from this vacation. First world problems.
As you know, I have instituted no-lunch making Friday. Friday morning I handed my 4th grader a few singles and my 6th grader came downstairs with a frown and begrudgingly made her own lunch. I was glad it was Friday. The week was long and trying.
That afternoon I ran into my 4th grader's teacher. She said, "You'll never believe what your daughter did today." Those word instill fear inside of me. Whatever it was, I was not going to be surprised. Nothing she does or says is shocking anymore.
She leaned down to my daughter and said, "Show your mom what you did with your lunch money today." She grinned and said, "I was making it rain."
In front of the class. Her teacher just laughed and laughed. C'mon. Really? I can't imagine what she thinks happens in our house. We are really thug living. Sitting around listening to Petey Pablo, wearing our pinky rings, making it rain.
That night, I didn't sleep well. I tossed and turned, my ever-growing to-do list ran through my head. I had to get up early to help run an event at the school. When the alarm went off at 5:30 am on Saturday, I groaned and hit SNOOZE. I did this twice before getting up. I sat at the edge of the bed, half asleep, my bones ached. My arthritis has been flaring up bad. I envisioned sitting in an empty kitchen sipping on a hot mug of coffee to get my day started. I finally got up to let the dog out. The minute my feet hit the floor - my 9 year old appeared. Wide awake.
"Good morning, mom!" she said cheerfully. Why?
"Good morning. It's not even 6. Go back to bed, we have a long day in front of us. You need to rest."
"I'm not tired." Of course not.
I went downstairs to let the dog out, put the water on the kettle and then used the bathroom. I am literally sitting on the toilet and I could see my daughters eye through the crack of the door. She wanted to talk to me. It was 6 in the morning and I just wanted to pee alone. "Mom, you need to let the dog in."
"I'm using the bathroom. You let the dog in."
"But it's dark outside and scary."
"Ok."
"Don't forget to let the dog in, mom. The water is boiling too."
"Ok."
I shuffled out of the bathroom to let the dog in. My daughter followed behind, blabbing about something. My brain was not working enough to process. "Honey, I'm a little grumpy this morning. Give me a minute to just have a cup of coffee and then we can talk." No. No such luck.
I was bent over scooping food into the dog's down and she kept tapping me on the back. "Mom, mom - look at my imitation. Mom, watch me. Mom, mom, mom...." I just couldn't take it anymore.
"I don't want to see it right now!" I snapped. Her face totally changed.
She turned around and walked upstairs. I immediately felt like the worst person in the universe. She loves me. She only wanted to show me her imitation. I thought about the parents who have lost children, or have kids who are sick, or the people who can't have children themselves, and my future self in 10 years. They wouldn't be mean and grumpy to their nine year old. They would be grateful to have a beautiful, healthy child who wants to spend time with them early in the morning.
I made a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table and thought self loathing thoughts for 15 minutes. I am an asshole. Not a nice person. Ungrateful. I hurt my own child's feelings. I rejected her. Bad Mom Award. Afterwards, I did the walk of shame upstairs. I called her over and pulled her onto my lap. Her long legs dangled over me.
"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to. I'd like to see your impression." Her eyes brightened. She jumped off my lap, put her hands on her head and ran towards me at full speed. "That was my bull impression," she said proudly.
We went to the school carnival and worked the whole day. The kids played with their friends. My 6th grader got into the dunk tank. It was a beautiful day.
We came home in the afternoon, took a quick shower and then went out to Chinese and then attended the ghost walk - another annual tradition. By the time we got home that evening, I was beat. My body was sore and I was barely keeping my eyes open. I fixed hot chocolate for the kids and went straight to bed. I was asleep by the time my head hit the pillow.
This morning I woke up at 6:30. I was sore all over but grateful that there was not much to do today. The house was quiet. My 9 year old had a friend sleep over so I expected her to sleep for a little while longer. I let the dog out and put on a put on a kettle of water. I exhaled. Finally, I have the house to myself, I thought. That's when I heard footsteps on the staircase. Oh God. No.
My nine year old jumped out from the hallway into the kitchen, "I'm here!" she declared. Jazz hands and the whole thing.
Her friend stood behind her, wide eyed. "Can you make us pancakes?" I was like:
I made the pancakes. I set them down on the table as my 9 year old flipped through Southern Living magazine. She pointed to the cover.
"Mom, you need to make this turkey on Thanksgiving."
"I don't think I'm making the turkey."
"YES, you are. You are making this one. And make sure there is no celery in the stuffing. I hate celery."
I glanced over at the microwave. It read 6:52. I wondered if it was too early to drink. I remembered the previous morning and I bit my tongue. I walked over and kissed her on the top of the head. "I'll make sure there is no celery."
We took the kids to the corn maze this weekend. I told my oldest daughter she could invite ONE friend to spend the night and come with us and that next weekend my youngest could invite ONE friend to spend the night and go to the ghost walk.
On Saturday, we went out to buy a new back door. We came home less than an hour later and there were TWO friends at our house. What the hell? I pulled my daughter aside and said, "J has to go home. I told you that you could only have one friend and you invited A a week ago."
This B looked put her head down and said, "Well, she can't go home because her parents went out of town for the weekend."
"What? How? I didn't even talk to her mom."
"It's okay. I talked to her. I told her it was okay."
"But it's not ok. Also, you don't have authority to talk to people's parents like that."
"I didn't know."
She did know. She waited until we left, called her friend and masterminded the whole thing. I was so pissed I couldn't even look at her.
"I was going to get pizza for dinner but now I am making left over pork chops with green beans and I'm going to make you eat ALL of them." I fail at punishments.
The next day we had to take 2 cars since we had three 11 year olds and my 9 year old with us. It's our yearly tradition. This was our 8th year. We remarked at how much it has grown and how crowded it was. We fed the goats and then the girls excitedly ran over to pick out pumpkins to decorate. They picked their pumpkins and found a spot at the long table to paint the pumpkins. They looked HUGE next to the 4,5,6,7 year olds that crowded around them, leaning over to dip their brushes into the paint filled ramekins in the center of the table.
I leaned into my husband, "We have the oldest children here, I think." How did that happen? I could close my eyes and see them there, in that exact spot, 3 and 5 years old in Halloween sweatshirts and I open my eyes and my five foot tall 6th grader is leaning over painting a pumpkin in her converse sneakers next to her friend with fire-engine red dyed hair. It's unreal. Watching the children grow plays tricks with my mind. It's altered my perception of time.
We made our way to the corn maze. It's 3 miles and we sought at all the check points. My oldest daughter insisted on leading the way and would pout when my husband would call her back when she made a wrong turn. We were all exhausted at the end of our journey.
The girls retrieved their pumpkins and we left. Another visit to the corn maze had come and gone.
Today was a typical Monday. Busy,busy, busy. My 11 year old had dance tonight and I spent the evening shuffling her around and running errands. On the way home from dance she somehow convinced me stop at Starbucks to buy her a salted caramel mocha frappucino.
We sat in the car and chatted about school while we waited for drinks. I told her, "I've decided that on Friday I am going to give you girls money for school lunch. If you don't want to do that, you will have to make your own lunch on Fridays."
I f**king hate making lunches. I've been on a crusade to convince my kids that going back to school lunch is acceptable. So far, I have been unsuccessful. It did not go over well.
"No mom. I hate school lunch."
"Okay. You can make your own lunch."
She pouted, "You are so mean."
"What about Hunter? He makes his own lunch every day. Is his mom mean?"
"No."
"Well, then you can make your own lunch on Friday."
She looked at me with begging eyes:
"But mom, lunches just taste better when you make them."
I like her strategy. The doe eyes are had to resist. My husband has a weakness for them. Pandering to my ego was a smart move as well. I give her an A for effort.
"You still are making your own lunch on Friday. Now drink your frappuccino. Your life is not hard." Bad Mom Award.
