Kick in the Pants

Today is just, well one of those days. Seems nothing is going the way I’d like, I’m being disrespected, talked back to, kicked in the face (literally) and I’m just done right now. Perhaps after getting this off my chest, I’ll feel better.

For starters, I still have no cell phone. Which means I have no phone here at home (we have no land line). I feel naked. I feel like something is gone and I have no control. What if I need to call 9-1-1? Can’t. I’ll have to run ½ mile to a neighbor’s house for help while I'm bleeding to death I guess. What if my truck breaks down with all 3 kids? Too bad, put on your walkin’ shoes, baby. Fortunately, neither happened, but it still crossed my mind. Not to mention if I’ve missed calls regarding the retreat, things that I need to handle, etc...

Then let’s move on to the fact that I am tired. Shawna and I got a lot done last night, glad it’s done and I don’t have to mess with it today. But I got home and Erk is snoring. He can’t help it, but let’s face it, even if you are exhausted, it’s not easy to fall asleep when the shingles are snapping off your roof. I finally conk and I’ve got the pee sheets that need to be changed (not mine, read below). Then 5:52am wake up call from Molly. Then up at 7:27a to hop in the shower, get talked back to, Mikie freaking out cause of the teeniest tiniest cut on his knee that you’d think his leg had been amputated. He was screaming in the shower! Get a bandade on, but being at the knee and he walks, umm it won’t stay on. He gets hysterical. I hear him up in their room getting dressed acting like the leg was sawed off. I ignore it and try to get something makeup wise on my face cause we have to head out and I’ve looked rather dead lately.

Molly gets up, she’s crying all morning wanting “MoMMA!” to hold her all freaking day. Well, I can’t. I am trying to clean pee sheets, get breakfast on the table (which Molly dumped her bowl of cereal out in one fail swoop of her hand) and then I just wanna run to a nearby printer that did some work for our website. Friends of Mom and Dad, they own a printing company that may be able to offer something that would allow us more variety in our digital scrapbook page quality. So we head out. Mikie is telling me as we pass every house that “I could shovel their driveway, and theirs, and that one…” and Jack is “ohh really, you think I need to get my coat on!” attitude and Mol is continuing to fuss. We get to the print shop and with the snow and all, the parking spot I had available was super small so I cleaned another van off with my coat and had to fold my mirror in so I wouldn’t hit Molly’s head on it. Boys are pretty well behaved in there, but Mol is opening doors that say “Employees Only” and I’m trying to focus on what they are telling me. The work they did on 2 particular prints is AMAZING, I wish we could do it – but for now? Too expensive for us. They suggested buying a machine like they have, but our bank acct doesn’t quite have that much moola in it.

Walking out proud of what I have to show Shawna, balancing the sample pages they gave me along with the “gold” set of pages which is rolled up (this is the piece I liked best). Mikie is dinking around and whips that roll of “gold” right outta my hand and into a snowbank. I was PISSED. So I have to pick it up, dust off what I can and clean that van again with my coat to get Molly in her car seat, I’m starting to yell at Mikie who still is totally oblivious to the whole thing. I frantically try to swipe the snow off with my scarf (that Mikie was wearing, he is one rare dude) and I’m ticked. So I lay it out to dry and explain the importance of what he just knocked into the snowbank. As we drive away, I’m realizing I am just underneath yanked that my new phone hasn’t arrived (I was told it’d be yesterday) and that my email wasn’t working this morning and I was just, well, naked without outside contact.

From there we head to grocery shop. Not necessarily huge groceries, but enuf to help us get thru. We run into 4 different people we know there, all very nice folks, and I’m putting on my best front to seem not-so-irritable, but I am. The boys are begging for a cookie so I tell them only if they are good and ya know, they were pretty good. Til we got the cookie and then it all went downhill. They were fighting at the checkout about a freaking winter hat and one of Jack’s little classmates walks by and waves, then proceeds to come talk. The mom is a sweet lady and her son (Ethan) is the nicest boy. She starts apologizing to me, figuring I’d know what for. Then she leans in and tells me that Ethan told Jack that “he was gonna kill him” at school the other day. Nice! I hadn’t heard, but with 5 year olds, can ya expect anything less? Ethan’s mom felt terrible, but I’m thinking, man, if you only knew my kid has pinched, spit, kicked the kitchen, said the word rhyming with mit, etc, this is really no biggie!

So we go from there to load the truck, Jack is screwing around ticking Mikie off, I’m trying to buckle Molly and then hand her a toy that fell to the floor and her little white Stride Rite shoe kicks me right in the forehead. Nice. If you know me, I don’t respond well to being scared or hurt. I was not happy, but proceeded to load the groceries. On the way home, Mikie is asking non-stop questions and Jacks asks, “Mom, why does Mikie always say such big numbers?” (like 400million hundred) and I thought a minute and responded, “cause he’s four.”

We get home and Mikie keeps telling me how thirsty he is, I have bags loaded on both arms so I can cut down my number of trips in and out, Molly is waiting for me to come in and shows such excitement every time I do, Jack is asking where lunch is… I finally ask the boys if I was just sitting around doing nothing? They quickly got my drift that I was GETTING THERE. We eat, the mess is still lingering but I needed to step away and take a breather. I’m tired, yes. I’m ornery, yes. I’m probably needing a kick in the pants, yes. But for now? I just wanna shut my eyes and tune out the yelling that is now happening during quiet time in the boys’ room. ARGHHHH, I guess I’d better go up and handle it…