Its one of those days. The alarm went off too early (any day I hear an alarm go off is too early, I have no need for an alarm, I shouldn't have to awaken to one). The kids have been little...um...knotheads. Its that time of the month where I want to inhale the Hershey's Symphony with Almonds and Toffee factory. Plus its early dance night. The night I send The Boy to class and listen to him cry, while I stand outside the door telling myself its ok, and that they'll tell me if its not. They haven't said he's not welcome back yet, so surely its ok, right?
To start, we went boot shopping for The Boy. He wanted boots, but when we got to the farm supply store he tried one pair on and started whining for his sneakers. OK, should we try on a second pair? Nope. No second pair. The girls had scattered like the beads of a broken bracelet throughout the clothing section. They want $40 leather belts. Um, no. How about $36 belts? No. How about $25 belts? No. But this one has a pretty silver buckle and pretty flowers on it? No. Do you want dance shoes or a belt to hold up your adjustable waist jeans--which I buy so I don't have to keep track of belts? We leave.
At home, the kids eat ham sandwiches. Why does no one tell me we are out of mayo until they all want the same kind of sandwich? Really, a quick "Mom, we're out of mayo" would put it in a mental list where it would at least be filed under "stuff I ignore worrying about until there is a mayo shortage crisis." I eat the aforementioned chocolate bar.
After a few more fights with, and between, the kids, finally the blessing of naptime ascends. I check a few sites, read and reply to emails and generally relax for a moment. Sure, an on-top-of-it mom would have straightened up, gotten a fab lesson ready for her kids, started dinner. Nope, I pop onto sites about being fantastic--eating right, exercising, teaching... I want to be fantastic, but I'm not. I may never be. Then I go lay down.
The phone rings. Dan has a dinner meeting tonight. I secretly wish I had a dinner meeting, one that involves a drink or 5. A dinner meeting with a bottle of wine--the wine could be my guest, then I wouldn't have to split it. I'm a lousy conversationalist anyway. Remember that website about being healthy? Forget it. Wine as my dinner companion. Just me and Wine, eating something that I didn't have to cook, somewhere where someone else serves me. No knothead children to referee. Wouldn't that be a lovely dinner?
The clock screeches 3pm. The kids stir. Its early dance night so I have to start finding leotards and doing hair so that my children are semi-presentable (this is a problem with homeschooling. If I let my children out in public looking like they normally do, then I'm judged poorly for not doing their hair, if I do their hair right before we go, then I'm judged harshly for having too much time on my hands. Who knew that children's hair styles said so much?) I have to get the girls lessons that they didn't do today ready to do in the car while Boy whines through his dance class. I have to shove the awkward stroller into the van so I can get my own exercise. I have to worry about being social for even the few minutes we have drop off.
And really, I just wanted to take a nap.
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