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Monday, November 24, 2003

this is not a cheery day.

Here's one for me to show the kids when they get in an "I can't wait to grow up so I can do exactly what I want" mood.


What I want to do right now:
Send the kids with their grandparents, or have T arrive home four hours early for some special reason and take over. Sit with a diet Coke and something warm and savory to eat (bowl of chili?) and read a book next to a cozy fire. OR, drive with the radio up nice and loud, go to Barnes and Noble, sit in Starbucks with a caramel brownie and a caramel macchiato and read. Oh yeah. The second one.

What I have to do instead:
Somehow manage to fold and put away about four loads of laundry AND drive 50 minutes with two very crabby children in the car, listening to them nitpick each other, with the radio quietly playing something kid-friendly (no veggietales, though, I put my foot down at that). Buy some groceries and some household stuff while keeping them from making too much noise killing each other in the stores. Hang my head in shame because I always swore I wouldn't be one of those mothers who brings unruly kids out in public. Drive back, unload the car, put stuff away. All within about seven hours.

oh, please, can't I just check myself into a quiet mental hospital instead? sigh. I have that stressed-out cloudy-head-pressure-in-chest kind of feeling that makes me want to go outside and yell and scream. And it compounds itself, because when I feel that way, things that ordinarily don't bother me at all (like my son being physically incapable of moving through a room without making light saber/fighting sounds, just as an example) make me sit here and twitch and freak out. This is not a cheery day. Please pardon the downer, I'm sure I'll be normal tomorrow.

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