Monday, October 12, 2009

Let Them Eat Cake...

This isn't Ms. Ellis' World History class. And I'm not Marie Antoinette.
I could try her "up-do." Would seriously be better than the frizzy, singed-out do I'm sporting these days. (Bangs cut. Sad wave in them. Threw away cheap Conair straightening-iron. And, I need a hot oil treatment--pronto.)

This post isn't about world history.....rather, it's about my failings as a parent.
Yes. I let them eat birthday cake for breakfast.

Listen hussies, I told you I'm worn-out from making decisions for FOUR people everyday.
Thinking, anticipating, planning for FOUR people....Buford T. is on his own. Except when he has to microwave a hot dog--make that thinking and reasoning for FIVE people on a daily basis.

Yes.....I'm aware that my children are young.
Yes.....I'm aware that it takes stamina to raise children.
No. I'm NOT giving up or throwing in the towel......
I simply let them eat cake for breakfast.

We're all out-of-sorts this morning.

Fall break is today. No school. We made plans to go to the zoo and its raining--AGAIN!!!
You people in Seattle (one of my James step-brothers & his wife).....you get the prize for mental toughness. I didn't mind the first TEN days.....we were very dry. No kidding. Since we have a yard to maintain I now appreciate the benefit of a good soaking rain. HOWEVER. That's been many rainy days and nights ago.

Not to mention our wood steps are slick-as-snot. Sorry. It's true.
I fell last week. With heels on. My son witnessed it. I laid there trying to get attention from my daughters, who were waiting for me in the car. No luck. Typical. Little hussies. "Mama, you ok?" The steps are steep enough to warrant a sympathetic initial reaction. "Yes." I respond meekly. Secretly, I'm hoping they tell their Daddy....that's who I really want the sympathy from.
You know, just a little extra attention for Mama......

"Well, if you're ok... come on." My oldest says impatiently, "We're gonna be late!"
Hm-hum.
My boy is worried sick about me for the next week. Every time I get near the steps he warns me, "Mama BE careful." "Mama they wet." "Hold my hand Mama...I hep you."

Sorry. I digressed.
In lieu of the zoo we're going skating. I hope. If it's open.......if not, we'll be at Wal-Mart buying all kinds of worthless shi!......

My new trump card is threatening to embarrass them.
I tell my daughters that I might even roller-skate. (Think Y.M.C.A.--honey, this Mama logged many hours skating in the basement under the glow of a disco ball).

"If either of you throw a fit when it's time to leave, I'll embarrass you like you've never seen."I say curtly.
I can't handle a hissy-fit episode by them today. I think. Not with my shitty bangs, dry hair and our foiled plan to the zoo. "Maaaa-ma." They giggle. "What will you do?" I've stumbled upon an effective game. Now that my oldest is old enough to voice, "Don't embarrass me Mama." I reciprocate. "I'll skate backward," I declare. "Caroline can skate backward," my oldest announces. Huh. Not enough, I think. I won't have a scene.
"Well. I'll drop-down and" [**visual--hands in the air, squat, one-leg out, knee bent, and wobble**] "Nooooo. NO." They wave me off, mid-squat. "Maa-ma. No way."
Success. I'm slightly concerned with their over-reaction--did I look THat bad? Probably.
This is why MommyDivas leave the 'skating' to their children......at all costs you must avoid a wipe-out. Permissible to have on skates to help young children but skating backwards, or otherwise, 'performing' is a complete and total embarrassment to yourself and motherhood. Honey, surely you've 'been-there-done-that!"
Mama, you only have permission to engage in such conduct IF you are retaliating.
And then, you better be certain your body will now move in the same way it did when YOU were in the fourth grade. Doubtful.

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