Have you ever had one of those weeks? Maybe a little like this?
Monday: You need to go pick your child up at school during a tornado warning. Actually, it's the extended warning. You were going to let her wait it out because her little brother was scared, but once the extension was added you decided to go get her (the tornado was nowhere nearby) since they would not even be putting her on the bus until 5 pm and then she would have another 40 minutes or so before getting home. It is a torrential downpour and you are all soaked to the skin and stripping the moment you set foot in the house. (Hooray, more laundry! Not.)
Oh, yes, did I mention that it's your birthday? There's no dessert because you didn't make any. You ask your husband to clean up since you made dinner. He puts the left over food away but leaves the dirty dishes in the sink (which was really what you meant for him to do but weren't smart enough to specify in your request). You realize you need to be more precise next time.
Tuesday: Your kid swipes 3 Hot Wheels cars while you are shopping at Kroger -- and you don't realize it until it's time to check out. By then, of course, he has torn open the packages. So you buy them, force him to pay you back, and charge an extra dollar for emotional duress.
In grocery shopping-related news, you are annoyed that today was the last day that your Kroger will be doubling coupons. Boo!
You go home, put the groceries away, transfer laundry from washer to dryer, change your clothes (can't wear the grocery shopping ensemble for yardwork!), and ask your four-year-old to help you apply sunscreen to your back (because it's over 80 degrees already and you are now wearing a tank top). Then you pop in a Disney film and manage to get the lawnmower out of the shed, mow the entire lawn (just a hair shy of an acre), and then put the lawnmower back -- entirely on your own! (Take that, husband who said he didn't think you could do it.) You later realize you have probably been duped. He knows you hate being told what you can't do!
You go to bed kind of miffed because hubby has asked you to stop and buy ice cream after your evening meeting at church. You are kind of tired but oblige because he has a sore throat. (You're cool like that even though he didn't buy you ice cream on your birthday.)
Wednesday: The same child has a tantrum the following morning at Walmart because you won't buy him -- wait for it -- another Hot Wheels car. So he runs off screaming like a banshee and you chase after him through approximately 15 aisles of the store before he slows down and you can finally grab him by the collar of his shirt. And then you wonder if wearing the skinny jeans and cute ballet flats was really the best choice for shopping with a four-year-old boy, which is starting to seem like more of a competitive sport each day.
Later, you step into the garage as you are headed out side to play "hardball baseball" with your boy. (Clearly, he has energy to burn off.) The moment you set foot out the door, you slip backward, nearly falling. (Thankfully, you do not get hurt. The floor of the garage is concrete, after all!) On closer inspection, you realize that you have stepped in a pile of dog poo. IN the garage. And by the way, you were still wearing the cute ballet flats, which aside from not offering much in the way of traction, are now coated in a layer of smeared dog poo. You are wondering why you have a dog...
To top off the day, it is your night to work the dinner at church. After 2.5 hours of running like a made woman (there were not enough hands!), scarfing your own dinner, and eventually stealing a potty break, it is over. You go to retrieve your little dude from the nursery (where they eventually had someone to help out, which is good, 'cause he started out in the kitchen with you, which for obvious reasons was not good). At this point, he smiles at you angelically and asks, "Mommy, is there any food left?" Um, yeah, you just spent several minutes packing it all up. Also, you have officially lost "Mom of the Year" status. That is reserved for people who remember to feed their children.
In other news, this is the second day this week that you have had to wash the cover from one of the couch cushions -- because a certain child has peed on it. (Hooray, more laundry! Not.) You are convinced that if you could just get all of the people and animals in your household to do their business in the correct location, your life would suddenly seem so much easier.
Thursday: As soon as you get out of the shower, you discover that your son has wet the bed. Only he wasn't in his own bed -- he was in your bed. You don't have a plastic sheet on this bed, obviously, so that means that when you strip the bedding you find a puddle of urine on your mattress. You head down to the laundry room to start a wash load, nearly tripping over a pile of in front of the laundry room door. It turns out that your other child has also wet the bed. (Hooray, more laundry! Not.) Next, you sprinkle baking soda all over your mattress and cross your fingers that it will sop up the liquid and get rid of any odor. You remind yourself that it could be worse -- at least one child wet her own bed and not yours!
After you are in bed (which now has fresh sheets, at least), your husband informs you that he read online that your daughter's school is doing away with Spanish and art. He tries to make you feel better, saying, "She still has you for art." Obviously, this is not the same. She loves those special classes. You have trouble getting to sleep because you are upset -- not just for the kids to miss out on these classes, but also for the teachers who may be losing their jobs.
Friday: Your son just pooped his pants for the fourth time this week. (Hooray, more laundry! Not.) You wonder how much diarrhea is considered "normal" and debate whether or not to call the pediatrician's office. (It's always tricky to find the right balance between being that mom -- the one who calls too often for every little thing --and that mom -- the one who never takes things seriously enough.)
Well, you make a decision and call the doc's office. He isn't having diarrhea, the nurse tells you. He's constipated. Well, okay, that makes sense. Not really, but kinda sorta. Anyway, you hang up and are immediately informed by your son that he has pooped his pants. Again. So make that five times this week. (Hooray, more laundry! Not.)
A letter comes home in your daughter's Friday folder confirming that there will be no Spanish or art classes next year. They are, however, offering some sort of before or after school art club. You still don't see how that makes up for cutting the programs!
Later, your son tells you that he has forgotten to lift the toilet lid, and so he has peed all over the bathroom floor. Actually, compared to the other potty accidents you have dealt with this week, you really don't care. At least he was in the bathroom attempting to do what he was supposed to do.
At bedtime, you are faced with two tired and cranky children. It turned out that it was a bad idea to go out to dinner to belatedly celebrate your birthday. Also, that big chocolate chip cookie for dessert was a huge mistake. Don't they know that you're supposed to bake them all the way through? Ugh. Everyone had a tummy ache. Your husband informs you that you didn't need to eat your whole piece. Right. Like you considered not eating the chocolate to be an option.
Feeling worn out, you turn to your faithful blog for a nice venting session. (Here you feel the need to add a final note that this was meant to be tongue-in-cheek. You lead a very blessed life, and happen to think that you are funny, even if nobody else may agree. And, your husband is pretty great most of the time. You don't want people to think that you have no faith in him, but like every normal person you occasionally feel peeved at him -- this week more than normal!) That said, you pray that the weekend of double birthday parties goes much more smoothly than the rest of the week!
Showing posts with label tired mom rant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tired mom rant. Show all posts
Friday, May 16, 2014
Sunday, March 30, 2014
I've been Deceived (and There's a Dead Fish in My Purse)
Yesterday started off as a great family day. We had the last swim lesson, and we had promised the kids way back on the first day of class that they would earn an ice cream treat at the completion of the five-week session. So, we went to Dairy Queen and had Blizzards -- for lunch! (We had never had ice cream as a meal before, but it made me feel like a pretty cool mom.) Then, on the way out of the mall, we were passing through the sporting goods store and Logan wanted to ride the escalator. So we did. Up and then down. Just because. I went home on cloud nine, absolutely convinced that we were the most awesome parents in the world.
It turns out that this may not be all that accurate.
Let me back track a bit and mention that on Friday, Mia's first fish, Bluey, had gone to the big fish bowl in the sky. (If you're keeping track, this meant we only had him for four days.) Of course, she was very upset, and I was frustrated. I thought we had done everything correctly. We had set up the tank last Sunday according to the directions given by the kid at the pet store and then had gone back the next day to get the fish. He was happy for about a day and then he started to look bad, and then he looked worse, and then by Friday morning, he was barely hanging in there. I prepared her for the worst and dropped her at school, returning later to find that Bluey was dead.
I called the pet store, trying to figure out what the problem might be so that we could fix it before plunking another betta into the tank. The guy on the phone said bring in a water sample to have the pH level tested. So, I did that Friday night and he said the pH level was actually good, but there was another issue: the nitrite level was way too high and he said nothing could have survived in that water. (Correct me if I'm wrong here, but wouldn't this have been good information to give someone before her kid spent her own money to buy a fish?!) Then he told me to take out about 1/3 of the water in the tank (our well water) and replace it with spring water. (Again, shouldn't they have told us this in the first place?!)
I told Mia I would get it sorted out, and we went back on Saturday afternoon. (Remember, this after the swim lesson, ice cream lunch, and escalator ride that had me feeling like Super Mom so I was feeling cautiously optimistic.) Fortunately, I was also thinking ahead a bit and I took both the dead fish (with receipt, for exchange) and another sample of water, just to be safe. Turned out that the water was still problematic, so it was good that I thought to have them test it again. (The only downside was that I then had a dead fish in my purse.) We returned home, and Mia was weirdly okay with still not having a second fish. She has taken this whole thing better than I have, so maybe I am doing something right with this parenting business.
Later that day, things took a turn for the worse.
It turns out that this may not be all that accurate.
Let me back track a bit and mention that on Friday, Mia's first fish, Bluey, had gone to the big fish bowl in the sky. (If you're keeping track, this meant we only had him for four days.) Of course, she was very upset, and I was frustrated. I thought we had done everything correctly. We had set up the tank last Sunday according to the directions given by the kid at the pet store and then had gone back the next day to get the fish. He was happy for about a day and then he started to look bad, and then he looked worse, and then by Friday morning, he was barely hanging in there. I prepared her for the worst and dropped her at school, returning later to find that Bluey was dead.
I called the pet store, trying to figure out what the problem might be so that we could fix it before plunking another betta into the tank. The guy on the phone said bring in a water sample to have the pH level tested. So, I did that Friday night and he said the pH level was actually good, but there was another issue: the nitrite level was way too high and he said nothing could have survived in that water. (Correct me if I'm wrong here, but wouldn't this have been good information to give someone before her kid spent her own money to buy a fish?!) Then he told me to take out about 1/3 of the water in the tank (our well water) and replace it with spring water. (Again, shouldn't they have told us this in the first place?!)
I told Mia I would get it sorted out, and we went back on Saturday afternoon. (Remember, this after the swim lesson, ice cream lunch, and escalator ride that had me feeling like Super Mom so I was feeling cautiously optimistic.) Fortunately, I was also thinking ahead a bit and I took both the dead fish (with receipt, for exchange) and another sample of water, just to be safe. Turned out that the water was still problematic, so it was good that I thought to have them test it again. (The only downside was that I then had a dead fish in my purse.) We returned home, and Mia was weirdly okay with still not having a second fish. She has taken this whole thing better than I have, so maybe I am doing something right with this parenting business.
Later that day, things took a turn for the worse.
I was busy with something when I noticed that familiar odor coming from the living room. (And no, it wasn't the dead fish. He was secure in his Ziploc bag inside my purse.) "Logan," I asked, "Are you poopy?" "Yes!" was his immediate response. Wonderful, at least he was honest. This is progress. At this point I am just hoping to have him fully toilet-trained before he is ready to head off to college.
So, I carried him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up, at which point he informed me that it was diarrhea and it had been running down his legs. The. Whole. Time. He got a bath, and so did the the floors.
That was exhausting. I was pretty sure that things were going to be looking sunny again after dinner, though, because we had purchased Frozen while we were out shopping. We were going to have a family movie night! (This is something I am told that good parents do.) We had not actually seen this movie before (and yes, I realize that we are practically the only people in in the known universe who hadn't -- except for some people in some obscure place like Timbuktu or something.) Anyway, our kids tend to be scared by new movies, and thus, we hardly ever go to them.
I was sure it would be fine, though, because ALL of America had told me so. "It's such a great family movie!" you all gushed. "Your kids will love it!" you claimed. "Full of positive messages!" you declared. Lies. All lies. I've been deceived, people!
The kids were TERRIFIED, and not just once, but numerous times. In truth, the actual plot of the movie is very intensely frightening at times. While I will agree with you folks about the positive messages, I have to say that they are rather mature themes, and really are more appropriate for older kids. That said, who cares about the positive messages when each parent is holding a crying child (one of whom is half-hiding behind a couch cushion because he simultaneously wants to watch and doesn't want to watch) and making him or her to endure in order to get to the happy ending?
I went to bed feeling like crap because I had forced my kids to watch a scary movie because everyone else said it was okay. (And, also, I had just received a permission slip in the Friday Folder because the first grade teacher is planning to show it to the class this coming Friday, and I wanted her to have the experience of seeing it with us first!) What kind of messed up peer-pressure parenting is that?
Now, back to that dead fish in my purse... The Sunday school teacher told me after class that Mia announced, "My mom has a dead fish in her purse!" (Luckily, she has a good sense of humor and found this amusing, adding, "I love how brutally honest she is!") She noted that Mia had spent most of the time diligently working on a card that read, "Dear Blooeye the fish, I am praying for you! Love, Mia." I couldn't help but think that she should have invested some prayer power into Bluey II.
After church, we took a third water sample to the pet store after church, and I was relieved to hear that it was acceptable. (I did one thing right, at least.) Mia finally has her replacement betta, and nice orange fellow aptly called Orangey.
After getting Orangey acclimated and then released into his new home, I returned down stairs and discovered that Ritzy was pulling things out of my purse -- including that Ziploc bag containing the remains of Bluey -- now not so fresh since we had made multiple trips to the pet store just for water sample testing. Thank God that dumb dog didn't figure out how to open the bag. (And God bless my child who let me unceremoniously flush the poor thing who apparently never stood a chance of survival.) I had dealt with enough messes for one weekend!
Morals of ThisTired Mom Rant Story:
So, I carried him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up, at which point he informed me that it was diarrhea and it had been running down his legs. The. Whole. Time. He got a bath, and so did the the floors.
That was exhausting. I was pretty sure that things were going to be looking sunny again after dinner, though, because we had purchased Frozen while we were out shopping. We were going to have a family movie night! (This is something I am told that good parents do.) We had not actually seen this movie before (and yes, I realize that we are practically the only people in in the known universe who hadn't -- except for some people in some obscure place like Timbuktu or something.) Anyway, our kids tend to be scared by new movies, and thus, we hardly ever go to them.
I was sure it would be fine, though, because ALL of America had told me so. "It's such a great family movie!" you all gushed. "Your kids will love it!" you claimed. "Full of positive messages!" you declared. Lies. All lies. I've been deceived, people!
The kids were TERRIFIED, and not just once, but numerous times. In truth, the actual plot of the movie is very intensely frightening at times. While I will agree with you folks about the positive messages, I have to say that they are rather mature themes, and really are more appropriate for older kids. That said, who cares about the positive messages when each parent is holding a crying child (one of whom is half-hiding behind a couch cushion because he simultaneously wants to watch and doesn't want to watch) and making him or her to endure in order to get to the happy ending?
I went to bed feeling like crap because I had forced my kids to watch a scary movie because everyone else said it was okay. (And, also, I had just received a permission slip in the Friday Folder because the first grade teacher is planning to show it to the class this coming Friday, and I wanted her to have the experience of seeing it with us first!) What kind of messed up peer-pressure parenting is that?
Now, back to that dead fish in my purse... The Sunday school teacher told me after class that Mia announced, "My mom has a dead fish in her purse!" (Luckily, she has a good sense of humor and found this amusing, adding, "I love how brutally honest she is!") She noted that Mia had spent most of the time diligently working on a card that read, "Dear Blooeye the fish, I am praying for you! Love, Mia." I couldn't help but think that she should have invested some prayer power into Bluey II.
After church, we took a third water sample to the pet store after church, and I was relieved to hear that it was acceptable. (I did one thing right, at least.) Mia finally has her replacement betta, and nice orange fellow aptly called Orangey.
 |
| {What? You didn't expect a picture of the purse fish, did you?!} |
After getting Orangey acclimated and then released into his new home, I returned down stairs and discovered that Ritzy was pulling things out of my purse -- including that Ziploc bag containing the remains of Bluey -- now not so fresh since we had made multiple trips to the pet store just for water sample testing. Thank God that dumb dog didn't figure out how to open the bag. (And God bless my child who let me unceremoniously flush the poor thing who apparently never stood a chance of survival.) I had dealt with enough messes for one weekend!
Morals of This
- Don't believe everything you hear! (Be it movie recommendations, or how to properly care for a betta fish. "They're really hardy," means squat if the water is uninhabitable.)
- Dead fish should not be kept in one's purse. Or, if you must keep a dead fish in your purse awaiting "burial" at least keep it out of the dog's reach.
- Being a mom is hard. I think this bears repeating.
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Winter Blah Blah Blahs
I just need to rant a bit and get it out of my system. Feel free to check back in later if you're just here for the crafts and my usual sunshine. I'm fresh out of those at the moment.
Yep, this mommy is dead tired of this winter. It. Needs. To. End. The sooner, the better.
I am tired of the cold. I cannot remember another winter when it has been so cold for so long. It got above freezing, what, twice this calendar year? Yes, it was nifty to make frozen bubbles, but this whole polar vortex thing has gotten quite old. The wind chills have been unreal. I am sick of school being canceled due to extreme cold. I am sick of being cooped up inside due to extreme cold. Thank heavens we have natural gas because I know there is a propane shortage, and I should not complain. Even though we're running the furnace higher than we ever have before, at least we are keeping warm while we are inside. Mostly. We've run through a lot of hot chocolate mix...
I am dreaming of a tropical vacation. Heck, I'd even take the kids if it meant getting away from this winter that never seems to end.
I am tired of the snow. Really, three more inches? And the snow blower is broken again?! We just had it fixed. I shouldn't even complain since I have barely done any of the shoveling, but seriously, we have had snow, snow, and more snow for two months straight. While it was fun for a while, and it was cool to finally get a snow ice cream recipe to turn out properly, I am over the snow.
The children are over it, too. They keep asking when spring will come. Even Ritzy is sick of winter. Our poor little dog hardly knows what to do. She gets stuck, so she hardly ever leaves the porch or the deck any more.
Snow, snow, snow! But no packing snow. We have not made a proper snowman all winter long, which is frustrating. I kept hoping that it would happen, but at this point, I am so sick of snow, I hardly care any longer. I've been around the house putting away all snow-related decorations that were still up: snowmen, snowflakes, the snow-covered Christmas village. I can't stand to look at it any longer!
Most of all, I am sick of things being canceled due to snow -- too much snow, blowing and drifting snow, snow that makes the roads treacherous. I have driven into two snowbanks this year, which is two more than I have driven into in my entire life prior to this winter! This means that there are two parts of the front end of my van that are in less than perfect condition now. (The most frightening part was when my van was hanging out in the road, Logan was in the back seat, and the school bus was coming. Thank God there were three gentlemen who came along and helped me out.) I have also driven through two intersections because my van did not stop even though I was going slowly and braking. So scary! And, it freaks Logan out when we leave the school, and the van brushes against the ginormous snow mound at least once a week. You'd think he'd be used to that scraping noise by now.
I am tired of the ice. We've had "snow days" that were really ice days. Do you know how much I hate that? They can't play outside when it's icy. And once more, things are canceled because there is no power, so there's more being cooped up. (I should not complain, of course, because we have been blessed with power at our house all winter, but still...)
We are out of salt. Everyone, everywhere is out of salt. It is insane.
The ice is my real nemesis. I have lost so much traction this winter! One morning, after hearing the cruuuuuuuuuunch all the way into town, I knew I had to stop and get the ice out of the wheel wells. So, I parked in the Walmart lot and proceeded to chisel away at the ice chunks -- they were solid, all the way around every single tire, filling the entire wheel wells!
I broke my ice scraper while trying to remove the ice, a casualty of this winter's extreme conditions. The good news is that Walmart had ice scrapers so I was able to replace that, at least. Also, the broken end worked better, anyway, so I'm keeping in case I have need of more ice removal. Yet another casualty of this harsh, harsh winter was my favorite dangly silver earrings. They must have slipped out while I was chiseling away in the Walmart parking lot -- where I may or may not have been the subject of photos or videos -- some weirdo appeared to have had his cell phone on me the entire time. What is wrong with some people, anyway?
I am tired of all the damages. While backing out of the driveway last Tuesday morning, I bumped into the trash can. Instead of flipping down, the rear view mirror snapped off, and is now dangling by a wire. (Brett had taped it back in place, but he bumped it again today, and it is flopping around again.) I don't even know what is to blame exactly. The snow -- driving into snow banks? The ice? The extreme cold? Neither of us could believe that it just broke like that! It's been a rough winter for my van -- and for me.
If you see a YouTube video of a frustrated lady trying to get ice off her tires with a snow scraper in the Walmart parking lot... It might be me. Also, if you happen to find a pair of silver earrings, I am still mourning their loss, and would love to have them back! In the meantime, I am still dreaming of that tropical vacation...
Yep, this mommy is dead tired of this winter. It. Needs. To. End. The sooner, the better.
I am tired of the cold. I cannot remember another winter when it has been so cold for so long. It got above freezing, what, twice this calendar year? Yes, it was nifty to make frozen bubbles, but this whole polar vortex thing has gotten quite old. The wind chills have been unreal. I am sick of school being canceled due to extreme cold. I am sick of being cooped up inside due to extreme cold. Thank heavens we have natural gas because I know there is a propane shortage, and I should not complain. Even though we're running the furnace higher than we ever have before, at least we are keeping warm while we are inside. Mostly. We've run through a lot of hot chocolate mix...
I am dreaming of a tropical vacation. Heck, I'd even take the kids if it meant getting away from this winter that never seems to end.
I am tired of the snow. Really, three more inches? And the snow blower is broken again?! We just had it fixed. I shouldn't even complain since I have barely done any of the shoveling, but seriously, we have had snow, snow, and more snow for two months straight. While it was fun for a while, and it was cool to finally get a snow ice cream recipe to turn out properly, I am over the snow.
The children are over it, too. They keep asking when spring will come. Even Ritzy is sick of winter. Our poor little dog hardly knows what to do. She gets stuck, so she hardly ever leaves the porch or the deck any more.
Snow, snow, snow! But no packing snow. We have not made a proper snowman all winter long, which is frustrating. I kept hoping that it would happen, but at this point, I am so sick of snow, I hardly care any longer. I've been around the house putting away all snow-related decorations that were still up: snowmen, snowflakes, the snow-covered Christmas village. I can't stand to look at it any longer!
Most of all, I am sick of things being canceled due to snow -- too much snow, blowing and drifting snow, snow that makes the roads treacherous. I have driven into two snowbanks this year, which is two more than I have driven into in my entire life prior to this winter! This means that there are two parts of the front end of my van that are in less than perfect condition now. (The most frightening part was when my van was hanging out in the road, Logan was in the back seat, and the school bus was coming. Thank God there were three gentlemen who came along and helped me out.) I have also driven through two intersections because my van did not stop even though I was going slowly and braking. So scary! And, it freaks Logan out when we leave the school, and the van brushes against the ginormous snow mound at least once a week. You'd think he'd be used to that scraping noise by now.
I am tired of the ice. We've had "snow days" that were really ice days. Do you know how much I hate that? They can't play outside when it's icy. And once more, things are canceled because there is no power, so there's more being cooped up. (I should not complain, of course, because we have been blessed with power at our house all winter, but still...)
We are out of salt. Everyone, everywhere is out of salt. It is insane.
The ice is my real nemesis. I have lost so much traction this winter! One morning, after hearing the cruuuuuuuuuunch all the way into town, I knew I had to stop and get the ice out of the wheel wells. So, I parked in the Walmart lot and proceeded to chisel away at the ice chunks -- they were solid, all the way around every single tire, filling the entire wheel wells!
I broke my ice scraper while trying to remove the ice, a casualty of this winter's extreme conditions. The good news is that Walmart had ice scrapers so I was able to replace that, at least. Also, the broken end worked better, anyway, so I'm keeping in case I have need of more ice removal. Yet another casualty of this harsh, harsh winter was my favorite dangly silver earrings. They must have slipped out while I was chiseling away in the Walmart parking lot -- where I may or may not have been the subject of photos or videos -- some weirdo appeared to have had his cell phone on me the entire time. What is wrong with some people, anyway?
I am tired of all the damages. While backing out of the driveway last Tuesday morning, I bumped into the trash can. Instead of flipping down, the rear view mirror snapped off, and is now dangling by a wire. (Brett had taped it back in place, but he bumped it again today, and it is flopping around again.) I don't even know what is to blame exactly. The snow -- driving into snow banks? The ice? The extreme cold? Neither of us could believe that it just broke like that! It's been a rough winter for my van -- and for me.
If you see a YouTube video of a frustrated lady trying to get ice off her tires with a snow scraper in the Walmart parking lot... It might be me. Also, if you happen to find a pair of silver earrings, I am still mourning their loss, and would love to have them back! In the meantime, I am still dreaming of that tropical vacation...
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