Thursday, August 12, 2010
I Need A Freaking Break
OMG people, it occurs to me that I still need a vacation. What are you talking about, woman, you ask, you just had a vacation. Oh, you're a funny one, aren't you.
Okay, so let's think about it here: I've been home from my vacation for 6 days, and I STILL have one last load of laundry to do. I haven't put the kids' clean clothes away yet, and I'm wondering if I give a SH*T about what we're having for dinner. I'm a little cranky right now. I was just stuck in the back yard for what felt like HOURS, while the kids cycled back and forth from the pool to the trampoline, back to the pool, back to the trampoline, until I became so hungry for the lunch I never had that I wanted to cry. The zillion slap and hug-of-death fests the FIGHT TWINS had didn't make being outside any more fun than it actually was.
Jack: "Ella, your name is ELLIOTT."
Ella: "your name is JACKY."
Jack: "my name is NOT 'JACKY,' Elliott!"
Ella: "Jacky boy! Jacky Boy! Jacky Boy!"
Jack: "ELLIOTT, STOP CALLING ME JACKY!!!!"
Ella: "STOP CALLING ME ELLIOTT! THAT'S NOT MY NAME!"
Jack: "Okay, Elliott."
Ella: "MOM! JACK KEEPS CALLING ME ELLIOTT!"
Me: "WHY DON'T YOU BOTH SHUT UP?!?!?"
So, I finally convinced them back inside at which point I INHALED a yogurt. I gots a headache.
Last night, as I was putting on some makeup before going out, Jack was on the can having a conversation with me. I should interject here, and mention once again that having ONE bathroom really bites sometimes. Picture it people: you've just drawn a relaxing bubble bath for yourself. You even lit a candle for wonderful ambiance. You sink in and feel the tension draining out of you. Then the door opens and your six year old says; 'GOTTA POOP.' Or, upload this little image: 3 out of 4 family members all have the stomach flu at the same time, but only have one bathroom. Suck on that one for a while.
So, as I was saying, I was getting ready to go out, when Jack decided to have a typically random 6 year old conversation;
Jack: "Mumma, being fat makes you ill."
Me: "it does?"
Jack: "yes, it makes you ill."
Me: "am I fat?"
Jack: "no, you're not."
Me (pleasantly surprised): "oh! Thanks, honey."
Jack (after pondering for a minute): "well, you're a little bit fat."
Then I went downstairs and told this to The Man as I was on my way to get my shoes. He said; "come back for a sec?" So I did and he said; "you look a bit smaller." Great. He called me back to check out if I was indeed a 'little bit fat.'
I need some suggestions from y'all. My son draws NON-STOP. And when I say non-stop, I mean that when he's not swimming, he's drawing. I have an inch-high stack of drawings from our one week of non-relaxation. I love the drawing--I really do. Two years ago he was literally afraid to try to draw, and now his pictures are amazing. I may even have to blog about them (nothing is safe). The problem is, my dining room table is a disaster zone. It is full of crumpled up rejects, markers, and the stacks of new drawings. HOW THE HELL CAN I KEEP THIS IN SOME SEMBLANCE OF ORGANIZATION??? Sigh. It makes me weary just thinking about it.
In other news, I have started doing situps every day. Oh, who am I kidding--I can't even do a situp any longer. I do "curlups." So, I've been doing curlups every morning this week, hoping to re-introduce some tone to my disaster zone. Every time I curl up, my stomach forms a nice peak in the centre. Every time I see that stupid peak, it once again makes me want to smack the plastic surgeon who informed me that my stomach sticks out now, after having my daughter, because I have fat UNDER the muscle. That may be, dough head, but is one's stomach supposed to puff out like a pyramid with exertion??? I THINK NOT. One of these days, I'll find a plastic surgeon who'll be sympathetic and say; "you're the sexiest chubby woman I've ever seen, and I want to stitch those gorgeous muscles back together. And the cost? For you? $2000. Yes, that's right--I would never dream of charging $8000 to restore you to your former bitchin self."
Someday, karen, someday.
Back in the good old days, when one was having a day like this, they could LITERALLY knock their kids' heads together. Okay, okay, don't get all bunged up--I'm mostly kidding. But for now I must say; "STOP. IT," or "KNOCK IT OFF," or, "if you two don't stop, I'm PHONING SANTA!" or, "don't worry kids--in just a few weeks, you'll be BACK AT SCHOOL, AND UNABLE TO BUG EACH OTHER!" I seem to be full of these little gems.
I need a freaking break.
image reference: http://www.cafepress.ca/+retro-housewife+magnets