It has been one of those phrenetic weeks again, my friends. I’m not sure if it is the impending R&R and the knowledge that Husband will be here soon to see the accumulation of dust and scuff marks and broken things, or whether it’s just the work schedule that has been unrelenting, but I haven’t been able to find the time to finish a post. Each night I have slapped down so hard on my bed that my bones rattled. The good news is that I’ve got two new stories percolating, and you’re going to love them. And I’m going to get right on that this weekend. Right after the basketball game, crepe dinner, birthday party sleepover, wedding shower, gymnastics class, soccer game (mine), church, and planting veggies for my mother’s belated mothers’ day present.
I’m tired just thinking about it.
There was one telling moment this week that I want to share, which I am still trying to laugh about. The Sassy-mouthed Preschooler was telling me how it was “going to be” the other morning and I responded with a lively “Oh you think so, do you? Well you’re not the boss of me, Navy!”
Yes, I realize I am not six. But injecting humor laced with sarcasm usually snaps The Preschooler into the reality the rest of us live in, where he is not in complete dictatorial control. It is also unfortunately a learned trait, and therefore often comes back later to slap me squarely in the face.
But “Navy?” I seriously called him “Navy?” Yes, I did. It’s funny, right? Super hysterical. You’re rolling on the floor now. I can feel it. Because there are no pent-up anger issues to discuss, here. Right?
On the bright side, both kids were so afraid that Mommy had finally lost her marbles that (after they un-stunned their eyes and shut their gaping mouths) they obediently got their stuff and got in the car, a-la the Stepford Schoolchildren that they so lovingly are.
I am considering the “crazy momma” response for today’s morning routine as well by premeditating the best way to insert the term “Osama bin Laden” into a barking command that will provide maximum shock and awe value. But so far I haven’t figured out a use that will not leave permanent psychological scarring and guarantee a lifetime of counseling (for both the kids, and for me).
Happy Friday! I will try not to harbor anger. Come back and read my nicer stories next week!