Blah. Blah, blah, blah and blah.
Oh wait...just had to rub my face there for a couple of minutes.
Anywho, I'm fairly certain that my children have a secret plot to kill me. Yes, that's right, they want to kill me, and they're doing so by DRIVING ME FREAKING INSANE.
Take this morning for instance--no wait, back up to last night. Ella woke me up at midnight. She woke me up again at 3 AM (bad dreams, she claimed, which is all fine and good, but does anybody wanted to be jolted awake with; "I WANT MUMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"?? No, probably not). Then, she was up for good at 6:15. At this point I woke out of a dead sleep to hear her happily chatting away with herself--TV on, and some assinine cartoon sounds. I staggered out of bed;
"ELLA! What does it look like out the window?!?"
me: "yes!! When it's DARK, you stay in bed! I should make you go back to bed!"
Ella: "I DON'T WANNA."
me: "well I'm going back to bed, so don't chat with me for AN HOUR."
Since The Man is away, I have to drag a very unwilling little girl with me everywhere I go, on my daily schedule from hell. I must take her with me when I take Jack to school. I have to take her with me again to pick him up for lunch. Then we have to get back into the car to take him back to school. Finally we have to get him when school is finished. No big deal, you say? Sure, but what if your 3 year old fights, and argues with you every step of the way???
Oh wait...just had to shriek at the kids for a minute, which actually made spots dance in front of my eyes. This has happened a few times. What does it all mean? Is it the lights show of my brain supernova-ing?
As I was saying....this morning Ella had to go to her little school, and Jack had to go to his. We had to take Jack to his first. Normally The Man takes Jack to his, and I take Ella to hers, as they both start at approximately the same time.
F**K...I have been interrupted to take little girl upstairs so she can "poop." Little girl has decided she's afraid to walk past Jack's bedroom on her own. I think my brain just broke a little more.
Wednesday, clearly, was a write-off. Did you notice that I didn't even get to finish writing (ranting) about my little story of taking Jack and Ella to school? Well, let's speed things along then, shall we? THEY FIGHT. They fight, and fight, and fight, and fight, and then they fight some more, and then they're friends for a few minutes, and then sometimes they bond together and have conversations about how "bad Mummy is," in which they're both in emphatic agreement. Sometimes they hold hands, and sometimes they hug each other. Sometimes when Ella gets into her car seat, her brother closes the door for her, then gets in and clicks her safety belt. Sometimes they share their toys willingly. And then, other times, it's FIGHT CLUB. Like, in front of the school yesterday morning, for instance, where they were punching, smacking and kicking each other right in the middle of the throng of children and parents. Lurv it.
After that, I took Ella to nursery school, where she had a TWENTY MINUTE screaming fit about not wanting to go to school. Finally one of the teachers was able to distract her by showing her the mini halloween cupcakes some boy's mom had made. I have to surmise that this boy's mother isn't so burnt out that she considers becoming the dreaded alcoholic mom, because she made those cupcakes "just because," and probably she made them together with her son, and then maybe when they were frosting the cupcakes, they stopped to hug each other with much love. Whatever. The cupcakes were a good distraction though, but then Ella tipped her head back and wailed;
This is interesting, because it immediatlely made me feel like DIRTBAG MOM, and I had to stammer out that she did indeed have a nice breakfast of high fibre cereal and juice. Lurv that too. Sympathetic teacher offers Ella a cracker, they trot off happily together, tired, burnt out, broken down, rounded-over karen hangs head in defeat and shlumps back to the car.
THE PLAN had been to drop Ella off at school, and come home and whiz around the house cleaning in joy and solitude. Instead, I came home, crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head for half an hour.
Had many fights with Ella about to-ing and fro-ing to Jack's school, then had a battle of wills to get them to have baths. Clean, cute children went to bed, and I glazed over watching a little TV with a rye and cola in hand. Medicinal, people.
Ella woke up many times during the night, and finally at 1, I coaxed her into my bed, where she slept a little more soundly for an hour. I did, however, get clobbered a few times by wildly flailing arms, and the kid turning sideways to throw her legs over my side (WTF), and I had a mild panic attack listening to her buzz-saw breathing. I had to rationalize though, that she wasn't deathly ill because she has no fever, and had been running around happily all day, not to mention trying to eat everything in sight. Yeah, that was a lovely moment when I WRESTLED the box of granola bars out of her hands. Good times.
At 2 AM, Ella was done with my bed. I loaded her up with vapo-rub, and she slept soundly thereafter. I woke up at 7:20 feeling truly craptacular
THAT is what I was trying to say yesterday, but there were so many interruptions, in the end I had to say EFF IT.
And so this is Thursday. My eyes feel like two gentle pillows. I have broken one of my rules and bought the kid some cough syrup. I don't like cough syrup, personally, and think it should only be used when you've had a few nights of very poor sleep due to a dry, useless tickle cough. Otherwise, I always say that the body is meant to cough this crap up, so it should not be suppressed. What I found was a bottle that claims to be good for bad bronchial coughs, and loosens mucous and phlegm (ugh).
Ella found the taste to be an appalling surprise, as she is used to all her little kid medicine tasting like candy and berries and nicey nice things. Not this stuff. It was another battle just to get a teaspoon into her.
In other news, my dad should be by soon to do some more painting in my kitchen--BOO YAH!!! Months ago, in a fit of pique, I tore down the horrid floral wallpaper in here (because it was making me mental), leaving the yellowed, dirty, splotty walls beneath. But note they weren't just uniformly yellowed, there were many variations and shades of dinge. I have these hideous blue-ish swirl plastic 1950's tiles on the bottom half of the walls, and the backsplash. So, even though I don't love blue kitchens, I bought a can of pale blue paint to slap on the walls. This is to make it look like the tiles aren't an accident. As I look at it now, it looks so clean and fresh. And when it's all done, I'll post before and after photies. MUCH FUN!
And so dad will be here to do the trim and cupboards soon...I think at least. I told him to not worry about the cupboards because we're going to yank those off and do a kitchen reno next summer. I say this now, but who knows--we don't move too quickly on anything. I may have a blue kitchen for a long time.
Sigh. Time for coffee.
The Man should have a fun day today. He had been advised last Friday that this Thursday he has to take a laxative (the horrors!) to get any remaining trace of that radioactive pill OUT of his system. I tell you these details purely in the interest of science. And then what--the last traces of the thing gets washed into our water supply--just like all the other people who had/have/are having treatment for their thyroid cancer??? PONDER THIS, FELLOW CITIZENS OF THE EARTH.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled program: Tedium Ad Nauseum.