I have been feeling agitated lately.
Weepy and agitated.
Stressed about, well, just pick something and I have been stressing about it.
Our little business, technically our first child (if you don't count Archie or Grand Master H) has taken on this amazing momentum that is such a shock to Mr. Smith and myself that we are still trying to get our bearings.
We are still trying to figure this out.
I am failing on an absolutely EPIC scale.
Last Thursday was Pajama Party day at school. Guess who was the ONLY kid that wasn't wearing his pajamas and forgot his pillow?
Yup, Grand Master H.
He was also the only one who had a suck mother that forgot about Water Day two weeks before.
I told H he could tell everyone his mother is a "forgetter." That is what he calls me when I forget something. Yes, it happens so often, he has coined a term for how much I suck at being a mother.
Yeah, I cried the whole way home in the car.
I pretty much cried for two days. Okay, maybe three.
The worst part? I am not even 100% sure why I was/am so fragile.
On Friday, I get an email from the school that they are having their Back to School Party on Sunday. They will be taking pictures of the kids to hang over their cubbies.
My kids look like members of the Partridge Family. I know, I know, 70s hair is in style right now, but I am old enough to remember the 70s and they were a stylistic wasteland that is best left in the past. I'm sorry if you lean toward shaggy hair on boys/men, but I just can't tolerate it. It just looks horrible. Sorry, but that is just the truth. These boys that are running around looking like Celine Dion's son, with hair below his damn shoulders are going to wonder what the hell everyone was thinking. So go ahead and let your son run around with Rapunzel hair, but be prepared for massive therapy bills later.
Wait, what was I talking about?
So we had to scramble and get family haircuts scheduled, pronto.
Luckily, we have the most patient, kind hairdresser EVER! Stephanie has been cutting H and C's hair, literally, their entire lives. She is AMAZING and both children love her.
She was able to get us in on Saturday afternoon and both children were really good. I guess I should be glad that they are angelic in public, but horrible little monsters at home?
So after the haircuts, we headed back home to drop the shorn babies off and head out for date night.
We saw Our Idiot Brother. It was okay, not great. I have to admit I was a little disappointed.
Sunday morning we had originally planned to head to the beach, but the day before, Grand Master H had expressed his dislike for "seafood water at the beach." As in, he feels that pool water is "better."
Yup, he's my son. I love a cement-lined, heavily chlorinated body of water more than just about anything. Natural bodies of water give me the willies. There are thing in them that touch your legs, make me nervous and freak my out. Sorry.
Wow, I am really just airing ALL my dirty laundry today.
So, instead we decided to stay home, bicker and have tantrums.
Another family Sunday!
The Back to School Party was at 10 am, so off we went. We got there a few minutes after 10 and there was already a HUGE line for pictures. A line that was not moving. The front doors were wide open, the temp was climbing up and up and tempers and patience were worn thin.
Grand Master H decided that he did not, under any circumstances want to have his picture taken. He was willing to lay down on the floor so that everyone was clear on how much he DID NOT WANT TO HAVE HIS STUPID PICTURE TAKEN!
So we went home.
And some things were taken away, with the clear understanding that they would be returned if the picture was taken. Period.
Miraculously, he saw the light.
I left Mr. Smith and Baby C at home (both in need of a nap) and Grand Master H and I returned.
He did indeed have his photo taken (those will be posted later) after waiting in line for an eon and being better than any 5 year old should be expected to be.
He pulled this one on the first photo:
Oh yeah, I have a bright future of Student of the Month bumper stickers!
So we came home and he only had one more full-blown meltdown at bedtime. He had been up since
5 am and his little brain was fried.
This morning? Yeah, he got up at 6:54 am.
It was a kind of rough weekend for all of us.
And so it goes.