Well, I should just fill out the application for the nut-house right now.
Against my better judgement, I took the girls to the fabric store today. I love fabric stores. I love anywhere with all manner of raw materials, just waiting to become something useful. Ella has inherited that gene from me. She also adores the fabric store. Luckily for me, they weren’t busy so I didn’t have to deal with some old bag saying “Your little girl is over by the fleece. I thought you’d want to know.”
I know where she is. She never stops talking. You? Don’t you have business to mind?
I only had to get one thing and Amelia didn’t have the patience to sit tight in the cart so I couldn’t browse and pet. I paid for my wares and stood by the front door, waiting for Ella to follow me. I swear, if we (as adults) would do half the things that little children do, we’d be committed. She wanted licorice. I said no. She wanted jelly beans. I said no. She picked out half a dozen candies and tried to negotiate with me. I’m holding a squirmy toddler who just spotted said candy and wanted down.
I started to sweat. I adjusted Amelia, marched over to Ella and grabbed her hand and made her put back the candy. And then walked her out the door and to the van. I buckle in Amelia and she’s in the way back seat. She wants me to move her carseat back there. We spend waste a good 2 minutes discussing why I’m not moving her carseat, the least of which is that it’s a Britax Regent and it’s so big that the FAA doesn’t allow them on planes. It’s like 30 pounds. She winds up for a tantrum.
My kids are not known to throw tantrums. Not the kind that other kids do. Ella’s tantrums are a series of unintelligible words with a little throw-the-head-back bawling for good measure. So not horrible. But I had had it. And it was only 10:30. All day like this. I grab her by the arm (probably a little rougher than I needed to be) and put her in her seat and buckle it. She starts in with the bawling and the only words I can understand are “licorice” and “mean mommy” and “backseat”.
I’m in the drivers seat at this point. I whip around to tell her some version of “If you don’t stop crying I’m going to give you something to cry about”…and I throw out my neck.
Pain shot out my ears, eyeballs and tips of my fingers all at once. I could hardly turn my head to watch the road to get us home. I have been in pain ever since.
I took 3 Advil. I drank a Coke. Napped with Amelia. Ate a real supper. Nothing. Didn’t even touch it. I spent the evening wanting desperately to take one of my last percocets from my gallbladder surgery. But they make me rub my face alot. And they make me itchy. I was afraid that someone would come by and see me all scratching my head and call the cops. Or buy me some shampoo.
To quote Tommy Boy, “Could’ve done without that.” I had fifty-eleven things to do today. And did none of them. The girls ran wild. At one point Amelia pooped on the floor and Ella pointed and screamed. (Don’t ask.) Ella asked to paint almost 2 dozen times in one hour. (Paints are for preschool, I say.) Amelia had red marker in her hair and on her scalp. Not to mention she destroyed this week’s issue of Time. They didn’t want to eat anything except strawberries and cinnamon raisin toast so that will be a fun diaper tomorrow (Or a fun “Mom, I’m done pooping, I need help wiping! moment.”)
I? Am still in pain. I may actually need medical attention. Or a massage and a margarita. Either way.