If my life were a sit-com, it would be the kind that doesn’t really make you laugh. Instead, you pity the main character and wonder why they didn’t hire a prettier actress. (It would seem a lot funnier with a laugh track. I demand a laugh track!)
At 11 a.m., I decided to take the five-year-olds to the grocery store. I figured we had ninety minutes before school-drop-off time (I am the Queen of the Dash today). It would be kind of fun, taking two five-year-olds to the store, right? We could grab a quick lunch and arrive at school right on time without breaking the speed limit.
We got out to the van and I said, “Do you have your backpack?” to the kindergartener. He did not. I said, “Let me get it,” and headed to the front door. At that moment, I understood for the first time why there was a house-key on the kitchen windowsill. For whatever reason, my husband took it off the key-ring we use for the Big Green Van (remember, the one he locked the keys in last week at the mall). I suppose this was to prevent someone from breaking into the van, intuiting where we lived and rushing over to steal our second-hand furniture and surplus socks.
Anyway, so I couldn’t get back into the house. I called my husband and he announced he was at the grocery store, picking up a few things. “Well,” I said, “That’s where I’m going.” So, we met in the parking lot, switched keys and cars. He’d already purchased bread, milk and other necessities (vinegar salt potato chips, for instance), but I still went in and rounded out our groceries with the addition of Oreo cookies, ricotta cheese, salad greens and other stuff. Good-bye, ninety-six dollars.
Tonight, my daughter was so upset because her melted McDonald’s sundae spilled on her bedroom floor. I know. That just made half of you gasp in horror. I cleaned it up and only scolded her a little because she had already cried about it. Then, not ten minutes later, she spilled a glass of milk in the same exact spot.
And, I did not cry over that.
I think we’ve all had days/weeks like you’re having. Some day you’ll laugh. Really, you will!
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I just keep thinking that it’s going to get better. It has to get better, right? Soon?
Just keep laughing. Or you’ll start to cry and won’t be able to stop. 🙂
Must keep laughing…
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I’m thinking you are a saint for not strangling your husband.
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Of course I gasped in horror – ice cream in the bedroom! Think of the ants!
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I am totally gasping in horror. Somebody wasted McDonald’s ice cream!
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I’m just happy you actually got to the market! No gasping here…my husband, however, would have gasped and then broke out the carpet stain stuff
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Never dull is it. Here’s a hug. I’ve had whole years like that, but they did eventually end.
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It takes a lot for me to cry anymore. If I’m to that point with one kid you must be a stalwart genius of motherhood. 🙂
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I really think we must be related somehow.
I laughed at your comment “It would be kinda fun, taking two five-year-olds to the store,right?” I’ve had that thought, and I’ve discovered that it can be kinda fun….or not…and it can be kinda quick….or not (and it’s never quick if you’re in a hurry, and the kids don’t even have to be five…they could be..oh, say…17. years.).
But the odd thing is, my youngest son is 10, my daughter is 9 (I have a 21 year old son and a 17 year old son too), I look at my two youngest children and it makes my heart sad that they’re growing up so fast. I’m not ready, I’m just not ready.
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