|That's Gary Larson's "The FAR SIDE," YO|
incidentally...this cartoon hung in my kitchen for years. Must un-earth it from a box in the basement...
I am officially DONE with doing KID-CENTRIC activities. I don't want to do anything else for kids this summer! You parents whose kids are already back in school? Do me a favour: DON'T DRINK ALL THE WHISKY YET! WAIT FOR ME! WAAAAAAAAAIT FOR MEEEEEEE!
Here is the deal-e-o: today I was at McDonk's playland with Ella. Friday I was at the mother-trucking beach with the kids. Sunday I was at a waterpark with the kids. I've been to the indoor playland. I've been to the library, bored to tears as the kids played with the germ-coated library toys, or looked at the fountain in the adult section for so long I wanted to weep. I've been to the splash pad. I've been to the public pool. I went for the ice-cream/petting zoo combo, and endured MUCHOS whining from the boy while I spent like TWO MINUTES enjoying the duck pond section (I love you ducks! You're so cute and brainless and charming). I went on the FAMILY VACATION. We went to a carnival. I rode on poop-my-pants scary waterslides. I floated around in the human soup known as the wave pool for ages.
But today...today at Mcdick's playland pushed me over the edge. Because people, it has been BUILDING. All the while I have been saying this kind of bullsh*tty stuff to myself:
that was a fun day!
that was a nice outing!
well that was okay!
I have been DELUDED! I have been trying to convince myself that all of these things have been FINE, JUST FINE, and all the while I have been stifling--NAY, TRAMPING DOWN my true identity:
Yes, I am a GROWNUP. I am a GROWN-ASS-WOMAN. I don't even like toys that much any longer. I don't want to pretend your toy dog has to go to the vet's, and I don't want to watch your toy baby while you go to "work," and I don't want to go on the swing. My ass is too wide now, and that thing CUTS IN. I am BORING NOW! I have LOST MY SENSE OF CHILDISH WHIMSY.
When I go to the beach, I really want to lie there on the sand for a while and READ A FREAKING BOOK. Then I want to SWIM, and not stand there as a lifeguard. When I'm done swimming, I want to dry off and not wear my bathing suit any longer, eat a nice meal that is not called HOT DOG, and I want it with a COCKTAIL, and finally, I want to conclude my day by poking leisurely through the little shops that are near the beach.
When I am at the public pool, I want to DO LAPS, and GO IN THE DEEP END. I don't want to redirect kids on floaty things away from my head. I don't want to pull their long hairs off my fingers, and I don't even want to THINK about how much BOOGS AND PEE PEE is in that pool. IS in the pool? ARE in the pool? You know what I'm saying.
I don't want to go to indoor playlands. Period.
I never want to eat IN at McDink's.
When I go to the waterpark, I want to enjoy some of the less scary things, and the outdoor swimming pool, and then I want to spend some quality time at the BAR.
When I go to the library, I want to have the chance to find a BOOK FOR ME.
Oh, but that's okay. I can give THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE to my children, and when they're old enough for me to not have to worry about their every move, that'll be great. EXCEPT I'LL BE 70. Yeah, I'll be touring the world at 70, and that will kind of suck, because my back will be shot, and I'll look weird because I've had that botched second face lift. Oh, and people might wrinkle their noses at me, because my bladder will have completely let go of the toe hold it still had on my body, and I'll have to wear a great big incontinence diaper.
So, hip hip hooray! I'M LOSING IT. I have two more weeks till the kids go to school.
Last night was particularly festive: after 3 hours of Jack bugging Ella non-stop at my niece's birthday party, and the two of them having epic smack fests, and the kid losing it because he's a little control freak and was flipping out that he couldn't hear youtube because--HEAVEN FORBID--other people were trying to listen to the TV, and then he freaked on me because I wouldn't let him eat a chocolate bar after a piece of cake...
I flipped my shit in the car on the way home. Yeah, if you were driving by at approx. 7:45 last night, I was the mom in the little green car who was SHRIEKING as she drove. Shrieking because after trying to be patient, and understanding, and saying the same thing over and over again in a calm, rational voice, and getting smacked (me, people), and yelled at, for three solid hours, it builds and builds and BUILDS until you LOSE IT. Something SNAPS inside you, and you're shrieking down the road that your son needs MEDICINE to STOP BUGGING HIS SISTER!!!!!!!!
I'm finding solace in LAUNDRY.
Does that tell you everything you need to know?!?