Tuesday, June 16, 2009

On my way to the looney bin

It should’ve been simple enough. I was thinking about something along these lines:

“Kids, it’s time to go to VBS! Everyone get in the car. Let’s go have some fun!”

But, alas! It was not meant to be. Flipping figures.

Today was technically my first day unemployed. Of course, everyone *knows* that’s complete b.s. There will NEVER be a day when I’m actually unemployed…*ahem* thank you, four children and husband, who INSISTS on acting like one of the children most days….especially TODAY when I needed him to act like a husband, but oooooooohhhhh no. The stars were NOT aligned in the heavens for me today. I tempted Fate, and that byotch took the bait and ran with it.

I woke up after a nice, long – and might I add *well-deserved* – nap. Stretched, exhaled, and surveyed my kingdom. All was well. Looked at the clock and saw that I had around an hour to get myself and the kids ready before heading to church. Took a shower, still feeling pretty pleased with my control over the situation, and then the Children’s Director called. “Hey! I was just calling to remind you to bring the crocodile, tablecloths, pom-poms and sandwiches. Oh – and you have less than an hour to be here.” Well piss. I forgot ALL about that crap. (In my defense, I’ve been suffering from *severe* short-term memory for the last year or so. She, along with a few others, told me NUMEROUS times yesterday to bring these items. And then they reminded me on Facebook. And reminded me yet again today with emails and phone calls.)

I immediately went into Panic Mode, running around putting lipstick on with one hand, and slapping kids teeth out with the other. My real problem began when I asked Byron for help. It’s odd to me how he’s sick when I ask him to do something. This week, for instance. He was sick for 2 days, then recovered for jiu-jitsu in Dallas on Thursday. He was “sick” again Friday, then better to go to jiu-jitsu Saturday. Fine Sunday, and somehow sick AGAIN this evening when I asked him to get up off his butt and help get kids out the door. You would’ve thought that death was imminent when I mentioned I might leave Duke with him to give me a few extra minutes to do other things, and he could drop him off at my Mom’s when he went to TEACH JIU-JITSU. Notice a pattern here? Most days, fine. Ask him to do something? He’s practically got cholera. (*Disclaimer: He did actually put a onesie on Duke, AND put him in his car seat.)

I’m stomping around, yelling, herding children, just trying to get out the door. Byron eventually offers to keep Duke, but only after I’ve threatened to trash the thing that gives him life. The yin to his yang. The good to his evil. The woman to his man. X-Box 360 game UFC 2009 Undisputed. Instead I tell him *where* he can put his stupid game, and proceed to choke while attempting to yell obscenities.

FINALLY all the kids are in the car, I hop in, and……THERE ARE NO KEYS!!!! NONE! WHAT IN THE SAM HILL?!!?!!!??! Let’s just say it took 20 minutes of searching to find them….in….the……freezer. Thank you, Violet. Or maybe it was Byron, since I think he secretly *likes* hearing me complain. He’s sick in the head that way.

By this time I’m sweating, my head hurts, and I’m REALLY pissed off. Flying down the road 90-to-nothing, and then I see a lone crocodile sailing through the air. It was too late to go back and get him. Earlier I had tied him to the top of the car with a bread tie, got side tracked, and forgot to tie down his other leg. The croc was a prop for VBS. Oh well. It was for the good of the team.

Could I make it to VBS with 3 of the 4 items required of me? Nope. 2 of the 4? More like it. Hey – 50% ain’t bad. By the time I got to VBS, 20 minutes late, dragging 3 children…I had come to the realization that I left the sandwiches at home, risked jail time by leaving kids in the car running (with the door locked) while making a dash for more bread and ham, AND forgot the tablecloths.

Think next time….I’ll just stay home instead. Then again, next time? Happens this afternoon. Think I can make it?