To the Guy Driving the Truck Behind Me on Bryan Road Yesterday Who Flipped Me Off

Dear Guy Driving the Pick-Up Truck Behind Me on Bryan Rd Yesterday,

I'm the lady whom you flipped off yesterday afternoon while driving down Bryan Road.  I know you were mad at me, but the situation was not exactly what it seemed.  I feel like I need to explain myself.

You see, it's been a LONG couple of weeks with four kids at home.  It's 104 degrees outside so no one can go out and burn any energy off.  Apparently, no one knows how to entertain themselves without me creating and providing some sort of activity.  So, for the better part of 2 weeks they have done nothing but fight with one another all day and all night.  It never stops.  That can wear down one's nerves.

I'm like a bucket.  Every complaint, every fight, every whine, every attitude fills me up just a little more.  I'm not ever sure what is going to make the bucket tip, but when it does it can get ugly.  After hours of driving to and from activities yesterday in the 104 degree heat, my children declared that they were completely starving (even though they had Chick-Fil-A two hours earlier).  I didn't want to hear them complain for the next 45 minutes until we got home, so I decided to run by McDonalds.  The McDonalds drive thru was extremely slow.  They ended up getting our order all wrong, but I didn't notice this until we pulled away.  I was already getting annoyed.  Then whining and complaining started.  Someone threw a fry and chaos ensued.  

I'm not sure if you have tried driving down highway 70 on a Friday afternoon by the airport heading into rush hour traffic in the heat with a McDonald's food fight happening in your car, but it's fucking annoying and hard to do.  By the time we reached Bryan Road they were fist fighting about who had more McDonalds napkins in their possession.  Yes, you heard me right.  They were fighting over who had more USED napkins.  Oh my God.  I am losing it.  

I said, "Stop fighting!"  I said, "Enough! IT'S OVER!"  I might as well have not been speaking at all because everyone completely ignored me.  Being ignored made me hit my breaking point.  (About this time, you were pulling out behind me onto Bryan Rd.) 

I hit the center console of my car with my fist and screamed, "God Damn it!  Shut up!"  I am sure I was being overly theatrical.  I was vacillating between looking in my rearview mirror to make eye contact with the children in the back seat and looking over my shoulder to yell.  

You pulled up next to me on my driver's side.  You honked your horn at me then flipped me off.  I was completely stunned for a minute.  I had no idea what I had done to cause you to be so upset with me.  Then it hit me.  Because I kept turning around to yell and kept looking in my rear-view mirror, you must have thought I was yelling at you.  I tried to roll my window down to tell you that my theatrics were not directed at you, and that I had just been yelling at my kids for fighting over used McDonalds napkins.  Before I could say anything you flicked me off again and yelled, "Bitch!"  

I suppose you were right.  I was being a bitch, although it was not directed at you.  For the misunderstanding, I am sorry.  For yelling at my kids about who had more gross, dirty, used McDonalds napkins, I am kind of sorry, but not really.  

Sincerely, 

A Mom Who Needs Summer to be Over Soon

Ann, You Failed Me

Ann, you failed me.  You are not my BFF anymore.  

I did not realize how bad my outfit was today until someone pointed it out and asked if I had an accident.  Yes, you heard me right.  My cute little Ann Taylor Loft shorts have a floral type pattern on them, and the way they were sewn together made it look like something bad went down.  Did I realize this before I put them on?  No.  Did I notice it when I looked in the mirror after I got dressed?  No.  I actually was feeling good about my new pair of shorts.  Well, turns out they weren't so cute after all.

                                                            

Ann Taylor Loft: 1

Cyndi: 0      

Touché, Ann.  

Monday, You Are an A-Hole

Monday, I officially unfriend you. You came at me like a spider monkey ready for war.  You may have looked like this: 

But, Dude, all I had in me was this: 

imgflip.com

And as much as I love starting out my mornings with strategic warfare, I'm just not in my happy place when I have to rush my formidable opponent through a bout of uncompleted homework in order to catch the bus in time.

Nor do I find it amusing to hear, "Um, yeah, my science fair project is due tomorrow.  I need to get the supplies to start it.  Here's how big it's got to be."  WTF??

Then there was the psychiatrist appointment that I totally almost missed because I forgot about it.  I'm thankful for my husband who remembers everything and reminded me to go.  I thought about calling in with a made up injury which would prevent me from having to go but then remembered that I am now currently out of all the meds that help me remember that I have appointments in the first place.

I drove the 30 minutes to my doctor's office and then proceeded to get an actual call about a non-fake injury that would require a kid being picked up from school and a trip to the hospital for an X-ray. I subsequently had to leave my doctor's office (the one I had originally thought about calling into with a fake injury) to deal with said non-fake injury.  Oh, the irony.  

*note - no fracture actually found.  child will live to see another day.

Upon arriving home, I noticed a horrible smell in the kitchen.  I isolated the smell to the fish tank that we have for the Beta fish on our kitchen counter.  The tank needed cleaning because it smelled like a rotting corpse.  I scooped the little guy out of the tank into a glass so I could empty the fish tank and clean it.  The damn fish jumped out of the glass and into the sink and down into the garbage disposal.  I am not freaking kidding!  I started screaming for my husband, who thank goodness was working from home, to come and help get the fish out of the disposal. He saved the day by reaching down the drain and grabbing the slimy creature out of the disposal and tossing him back into the tank. 

*note - fish will live to see another day

The day pretty much continued in that fashion.  I couldn't get out of the slump.  I was a day late and a dollar short from beginning to end.  Can I tell you about the best part?  At the end of the day I actually looked in the mirror and realized that I had put 2 earrings in one ear...IN THE SAME HOLE!  I kid you not.  My shirt also apparently had been stained at some point during the course of the day so I had that going for me too.  I walked around like this ALL DAY.  No one said a word.  They probably just felt sorry for me.  

So with that, I leave you with lyrics to a Boomtown Rats song, "I Don't Like Mondays."  Although it was written in the 70's, it applies in '17 more than ever because I really, really don't like Mondays.  

I Don't Like Mondays 

The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's going to make them stay at home
And daddy doesn't understand it
He always said she was as good as gold
And he can see no reason
'Cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be sure

Tell me why
I don't like Mondays
I want to shoot

The whole day down

Bob Geldof, Boomtown Rats (1979)


*on a super duper side note, the blog site that hosts my blog puts ads on my page relating to whatever's in the content of the blog title and/or words within the blog.  Since I had "a-hole" in my blog post title, the ad that appeared at the top of the blog post was a hemorrhoid ad.  Although I found the word hemorrhoid to be an accurate description of my day, it wasn't exactly what I wanted to look at when I opened my blog.  I deleted the advertising gadget on that part of my page.  So, consider this your hemorrhoid ad.  

Do Not Pee on Your Brother with Holy Water

"Oh my God, stop using your bottle of Holy Water pee all over your brother!"

I actually had to utter those words out loud.  Really, I did.

I am sure you want an explanation.  In all honesty, I want an explanation too, but this is my 6 and 10 year old sons' brains that are making these "rational decisions."  No explanation will ever suffice.

Picture this.  I walked into the boys' shared bathroom and saw Nick holding a bottle Holy Water at his crotch and squeezing it so it would spray (aka pee) all over Harry.  Yes, my son violated the Holy Water.  Not only that, but I think he broke at least eight of the Ten Commandments in the process. We are gonna burn.  No doubt about it.

Let me digress for a moment.  My 6 year old son's PSR teacher (PSR meaning Public School Religion at our parish Catholic church) gave him the very thoughtful gift for Christmas which was a bottle of Holy Water.  Although I appreciate her generosity, I must say the significance of Holy Water might have been completely lost on Nick.   Then again maybe not.  He might have found his calling in ministry and was only trying to "bless" his brother.

God help us all.  As for using this bottle of Holy Water to do that, I think I will pass.

Vacuum It Up

In my little world there are not too many things I can control.  I have pretty much accepted that as fact.  It has been a journey to let stuff go.  I recite the Serenity Prayer almost everyday to myself before I get out of bed to try  and help myself remember that you can only be the master of so many things.  Everything else, well I just have to release it back into the great big wide world. 

“God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things that I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.”

You know what I cannot release back into the world though?  Dog hair.  Yes, dog hair.  I can't not try to control the dog hair in my house.  Unfortunately I have two dogs that shed a lot.  I got the dogs.  I knew they shed.  I'm not sure how I thought I could live dog hair free.  I vacuum obsessively (which is actually not a bad thing because it also cleans up the dirt of my children), but that dang dog hair makes me crazy.  Solution?  Oh yes, there is a solution. 

Problem solved.  Kinda.  I mean at least for the next 5 minutes the shedding will be under control.  This, my friends, is me having the courage to change the things I can.

My Toothpaste Mess

There are just days that I fail at parenting completely and totally.  I mean it.  I would be horrified to see a replay of my behavior today so thank goodness there are not reality show cameras in our house.  I don't mean that I am physically abusive.  I am not.  I just mean that there are moments when all common sense slips from my brain and some crazy person takes over my body.  I don't always have control of what comes out of my mouth or what I do with my extremities (the over dramatic movements I make with my body to prove a point).

This morning sucked.  I sucked.  My kid woke up and made a concerted effort to get his own breakfast.  Never mind the fact that his breakfast was a HUGE bowl of whipped cream on top of one strawberry, I still just should have shut up.  He was trying.  My mouth started running.  "No way are you just eating whipped cream for breakfast! That's disgusting!  Blah blah blah..."  That got the ball rolling and it snowballed from there.  There was a long list of stupid stuff that I jumped all over him for.  Working on math facts for a math fluency test he had today was the icing on the cake.  He fought practicing the dumb math facts tooth and nail.  I am talking adding and subtracting...stuff he can do.  I was pissed that he wasn't trying.  He was having a meltdown because I was making him do it.  He was crying.  I got more mad.  He was throwing pencils.  I picked him up kicking and screaming and carried him to my bedroom put him in the room and closed the door.  "Don't come out until you can freaking calm down!"  Ummm, Cyndi, seriously check yourself before you wreck yourself.

The time was quickly approaching for the bus to come.  He couldn't calm down.  In a huge huff he came out of my room crying his eyes out and sat down to try to do the math.  I am trying to be calm but he was putting answers down that were not even close to what the problems were.  I'm still yelling.  He's still crying.  Two minutes until the bus arrives and he doesn't have shoes on.  We're both a hot mess.  I look like a crazy woman in pajamas and he is running out the door with his shoes half on and untied.  It is at that point that I look over at my dog who is happily chewing on my brand new Cole Hahn shoe (*side note - I hardly ever buy any shoe that costs over $20 or that is not in the clearance bin because I am a cheap ass so of course he chose the pricey one to chew). Obviously this was completely my fault because in all the carrying on I did, I left the laundry room door open, and the dog went in there and found a nice treasure which happened to be my shoe!  Now I'm really, really mad and acting really, really wacko. We run to the bus and get there just as it arrives.  He climbs the bus on still a mess.

The bus drives away.  I feel like the biggest asshole of all time.  I could have avoided all of this.  I could have just let him make his own breakfast with out berating what he was doing.  I could have skipped working on math fluency facts knowing it would upset him or made it into a game rather than, "Sit down and do these facts now!"  So he is at school probably having a crappy day and I am sitting getting my oil changed brewing about how mean I was.

I realize that having 4 kids is really hard.  There are good days and there are really tough days where you think you have done more damage than good.  Some days parenting my kids gets to me.  I don't find their antics funny.  I am easily frustrated that they fight every request I make of them.  Some days I am a really shitty parent who has no patience and is flat out mean.  I hate those days.  That's where I am right now.

Hopefully I can redeem myself.  I will apologize for my behavior when I pick him up from school.  I will tell him that I love him and that I was in the wrong for being mean and angry.  I will return the multitude of privileges/items I took away this morning as punishment for not doing his math, some of which include his 27 Nerf guns, xBox controllers, the TV remotes, and desserts and snacks for the rest of his life.  I will tell him that he is a good kid and that I know math is hard but we will work through it calmly together next time.  I will tell him that I was the one who needed a time out, not him.  I will ask for forgiveness. In the meantime I will sit here and eat all these Milano cookies because I am pissed at myself.   

My boys were telling me the other day about a phrase they learned at school about bullying and using mean words.  I will probably muck it up as I try to tell it to you so bear with me.  It was, "An angry word is like toothpaste.  You can never put it back into the tube once you have squeezed it out."  You can't take back angry words.  You can clean up the mess, but the words will always leave the person a little broken.

I thought toothpaste was useful for cleaning all the Milano cookie bits out of my teeth, not to be an analogy for being a bully.  I was wrong.  It sucks to know that I left him a little broken.  I am not looking for anyone to tell me that it was just a hard morning and that I am a good mom.  I know for a fact I was not this morning.  I am telling you this so you know that behind the silly posts, there are many days I still suck.  A lot.  I learn from each of those days.  My lesson today was just more painful than than usual.  

Off I go to try and clean up my toothpaste mess. 

I Accidently Dropped it Down the Sewer

There are many declarations your child could loudly make as they come running into the house that would elevate your blood pressure.   I have heard more of those statements than I care to count.  Actually almost every time the door opens I hold my breath and wait for the bomb to drop. Well, this day was no different.  Cue the garage door busting open:

Kid: "I accidentally dropped it down the sewer!!  Help!!!" 

Me:  "What did you drop down the sewer?"

Kid:  "My phone!"

Me:  "You mean the brand new iPhone you just got a few days ago?!?!"

Kid:  "It was totally an accident! I was sitting on the sewer lid in front of our house and it just fell out of my pocket down into the sewer!  Oh my God, dad's going to kill me!  Please help me get it out!"

Me:  "Ummm,  I can't quite digest the information you are sharing with me.  I am baffled on how on earth the phone fell into the sewer.  This, my friend, is not going to turn out well for you."  

 So, I go out to the sewer and prepare for the worst.  My stomach is in a pit.  I am so pissed off I could throw the effin sewer lid!

Let me lighten that view down the sewer for you.  Mind you it is no less than eight feet down to the bottom.  Look see, there it is face down at the bottom of the sewer. 

I make the kid climb down into the sewer to get the phone.  I am just waiting for him to turn it over and see it smashed to smithereens.  Deep breath.  Prepare. 

His freakin' phone is perfectly fine...no cracks, no scratches, no part of the phone broken in any way shape or form! 

Oh come on!  I mean, I am glad the phone is fine and all, but I wanted him so badly to see it broken because of his careless behavior.  I wanted him to have to pay to fix the phone.  In all honesty I am kind of annoyed that the reason we had to get new phones in the first place was that my stupid phone fell eighteen inches off the seat of a chair (not even my fault mind you) and cracked into pieces and his phone fell eight feet face down onto the concrete bottom of a street sewer (totally his fault mind you) and was perfectly fine!

Needless to say, his dad can read and will now know about the phone (OUCH),  and my blood pressure is still elevated.  Wine will make it better.