Where Whine Meets Wine

DumbA of the Week Award

Want to feel like mother of the year? Well, let me tell you some things you should maybe not do then…

  • Do not forget to change baby IMMEDIATELY. Unless you want to be covered in pee.
  • Do not forget to take Littlest potty (first!) before letting him take off naked. Unless you want the floor to also be covered in pee.
  • Do not forget to read the labels of all foods. Even if it’s something you think they’ve had before. Especially if it’s a different brand. Unless you want you Celiac-ridden child to be sick to her stomach, unwilling to do anything but lay around like a wet noodle.
  • Forget to feed you oldest breakfast, unless you want to be asked why you’re trying to starve your children. And that you don’t really love him anymore.
  • Don’t decide not to pick up milk the night before so that you ca just take a walk to the store. Unless you want you a guarantee your day won’t go as planned. And you’ll still have no milk.
  • Don’t give the baby a bottle of water (when he’s requested milk). Unless you want said bottle thrown at your head. And then to be asked if you’re not feeding Littlest because you want him to shrink and starve too (said Biggest).
  • Don’t wear your favorite, new, or anything else you’d like to wear again when you have a kid with an upset stomach. Unless you want a visualization of what’s making said tummy upset.
I feel I should also mention that last night I locked my keys in the car. We were meeting my dad to pick up biggest’s car seat that had been left in their vehicle. The whole trip was spent with MissE going on and on about how unsafe it was to ride without a car seat. Only to have her have to ride home without one. And then get so caught up talking that the fact that you’re heading to Dad’s house, and not where the truck is, goes by unnoticed…

I could go on, but I won’t, for my own sanity’s sake. Let’s just say, today is not going as planned. And my reactions to it, well, they’re not winning me any mother of the year awards. So I’m going to make some of MissE’s favorite soup (broccoli and cheddar) and do some cuddling. And hope that’s enough to win back some of their mother love. And maybe some of my own.

I wonder if I can use my wine slushie mix with Vodka? Seems like a good day to investigate.


There Are No (Appropriate) Words

Today I’ve been feeling a little sub par, and it seemed like no matter how I tried to pretend I was feeling good and could be productive (we’ll have around 13 adults and 6 children under 5 in a week and a half in our home to celebrate Christmas!), every time I turned around, I’d run smack into something to remind me of how crappy I was feeling, along with unproductive. Like how I heard Littlest scamper down the stairs to join his siblings in play, and thought it would be a good time to throw some things in the laundry. By the time I’d switched out clothes from the dryer and the washer and reloaded the washer… I came upstairs to this pleasant surprise. We had girl cheese (as my MissE pronounces it) with tomato soup for lunch only minutes earlier, and the table had yet to be cleared. Littlest found a spoon and was feeding himself a slurp from every cup… unfortunately most of it ran down his front and onto the table, where he discovered he liked the feeling of it squishing between his toes. Needless to say, a bath ensued as he had tomato soup from head to toe and a plethora of places in between. And as this is just one example for the day (he also pulled over the Christmas tree…), these are all the words I care to say out loud. I hope you can understand, and maybe even sympathize. If you can babysit, that would even be better

Just in case you couldn't clearly see the mess


Funky Friday

So yesterday was basically the day from hell… it started off really, really well. We hung out, had a good morning. Hubbyman picked us up, so we could run errands. Grocery shopping being at the top of the list. So off we went, dropping hubby back off at work, and onto our day of adventures. I go to a fabric store to purchase some material to make NFL diapers for Littlest E (to help solve to not quite enough diapers in my arsenal problem) and of course so that he has proper attire for the beginning of the new season! So we really just take our time meandering around through there. We finally get out and there’s a fast food place with a playland in the parking lot, so we decide it would be fun to walk over and play (not eat!). This playland is a little more “tube-y” than what we’re used to. Less slides, more tunnels. Which would be fine, except that just as Big E got to the top of the tunnel maze, a group of about eight 10+ year olds (who were not small children, either) decend upon the playland like it’s the only time in their life they’re going to be able to run wild. So run wild they do. Climbing up the slides. Sitting on top of the end of the slide to land on whoever slides  down. Running everywhere. Yelling loudly. Did I mention my boy is still inside of there? I know as soon as they throw themselves into the tunnels that they are not going to be going through it slowly or gently, let alone with any awareness of small(er) children that may be playing in it as well. So I listen, because my mother heart knows my boy is afraid, and every once in a while, in between yells and shrieks, I can hear the soft crying of my scared, little boy. I can’t see him anywhere… I look all around and finally I spot him, in one little end spot, where he’s just sitting in the corner, looking terrified. He was about to go down the slide (that he’s slightly afraid of anyways) when the big kids descended like the plague. And in front of that spot seemed to be the “cool” place to be, so there they sat.  I tried to convince him to go down the slide and that I would catch him. Kicked the kid off the end of the slide (he was not going to be jumping onto my child), yelled up to the big kids at the top that I was his mama and they were to let him through. Unfortunately, what happened next was for all of them to gang up on him, trying to force him down the slide. Surrounding him in his small little area, his whole body  pushed up against the glass as far as he could, and crying. It was so heartbreaking. The kids were from some kind of program, and I respectfully spoke with their caretakers. I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be rude. I think that they are trying to help and convince my son that he could down the slide. But he is up there and he is scared and crying, and he’s little.  They were very kind and immediately made them all come out, and took them away. (Thank You Lord!) Thankfully we’d been sitting next to a Grandma and making small talk with her (she’d sent her small grandson up to try and convince Big E to go down, but he couldn’t make his way through the big kid crowd), she looked at me and said, It’s a good thing you’re small.  I’ll sit with the babies, you go get him. And so I did. I crawled through that maze of tiny tunnels, painfully slow (and of course, I’d been wearing my white pants)… but I got to him. And he clung to me like he’d been lost in a jungle. Even going down the slide, he clung to me. It wasn’t a ride, it was a means of survival. Poor kid. You know it’s bad when your child WANTS to leave a playground of any form.

So we headed to the grocery store, which for us, means Costco. As we pull up and load into the cart, we witness a woman yelling at a boy to hurry up and come. He (loudly) tells her he really has to go potty, and he runs back into the store. Well, this woman proceeds into the parking lot, gets into her car, and leaves! Not just to circle around, waiting for the boy. No, she leaves…. turns the corner, waits at the light and leaves, as I watch awestruck. At this point the boy comes back and somberly looks around and then realized she’s left him. At first I thought she forgot him. Maybe somehow she didn’t realize he ran back in? But this poor little boy recounts his life to me, and how she’s really his aunt, but he lives with her, and his mom is too sick to take care of him, and his aunt has done this to him before… this kid was just aching for love. And it was breaking my heart. 20 minutes go by and the woman’s still not back… I go to the front desk, recount what happened, and they basically were like, Ok what do you want us to do? So I tried calling the woman (the boy could tell me her number- I’m guessing he was 7), but no answer. So the police were called. She showed up just as the police did, no acknowledgment no anything, just pulled up, looking straight ahead as the boy climbed in. The cops promised to put a call in to social services that way if there are any future reports they have this too. But since the boy told ME the things, and she (of course) said she’d just forgotten him. (By this point, I no longer believe her.) The cops do seem to believe me, but unfortunately, there was nothing else they could do either.

So I go in, do my shopping and finally get ready to leave 2 hours later… and if you’re familiar with Costco, when you leave they compare your cart with your reciept. So we walk up, wait our turn, get there… and the guy never smiles (we’ve seen him before and I’ve always thought he was not the right guy for this job- I mean, do you really want him to be the last thing that happens -and therefore you remember- before you leave the store?). Not only is he unfriendly, but Big E is sitting in the cart, and so he grabs him by the arm to move him around so he can see what’s around him. Not gently, not after saying something politely, just grabs my boy. Any other day, I would have been mad, but that would’ve been the end. Today, however, I loudly say, GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY CHILD. If he needs to be moved so that you can look around, say so. DO NOT TOUCH MY CHILD.  At this point, all of my children are crying, because my outburst is so unlike me, that even they don’t know what to do. The man, without saying anything, hands me my reciept and I walk out, *unload my cart, unload the kids, climb in with Littlest E, so he can have his lunch. When he’s finished nursing, I buckle him into his car seat and head home. Only to find my bigger two screaming a few minutes later (and once we’re on the highway, of course) that I’d forgotten to actually buckle them in, and that I was not letting them be safe. (Good to know they’ve been listening about how buckling keeps them safe, but it sure felt like a punch in the gut.) So I pull over, buckle the kids (while they chastise me for forgetting. Big E informed me he was going to tell his daddy about it. I think he forgot- hey daddy…), and go home.

Yesterday, I may have been too emotion-filled to have talked with management, but you can bet that today there will be a phone call, an e-mail, and a written letter. And I may not go back to that particular Costco.  Needless to say, almost instantly, as hubby got into the truck, I burst into tears. Something about his presence, I guess. I think it’s just the knowledge that now that he’s here, I no longer have to hold it together, because I know he will.

So now, maybe you’re wondering about my Thankful Friday? I kinda was too. But here it is: I am thankful that somewhere, even though sometimes it’s buried deep inside… I do have a backbone. And that at least when it comes to my children, I have a side that I never knew I had- one that speaks her mind, stands up for the ones she loves, and will not be pushed around.  I am thankful that I have found that side of me, and only hope that I can integrate it more into the rest of my life! And I am also so, very thankful to have people I can call and say, listen to how crappy this day was… and know that they’ll listen to it fully. And that when I say, keep that little boy in your thoughts and prayers- it will be done. He’s gonna need it.

*I forgot about this when I originally wrote this post. What a delightful remembrance that just had to be included.

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