Can any of you actually stand to read another round of “As the Webster’s Turn?” Some days I think I am on this merry-go-round that won’t quit and I just want to yell, “STOP THE WORLD! I NEED TO GET OFF!” Maybe if I hollered “OR I’M GOING TO PUKE!” someone would listen…..but here I still sit with 5 – six foot tall mounds of laundry, and the only thing that loves me enough to cling to me is cellulite and a three year old! And since I am so full of “love” (read—cellulite) right now my mid-life crisis body and I would like to share our week with you!
Monday—I can hear all of you saying right now “cleaned the house.” And you are right!!! However, I did go to the grocery store, too. My record is getting better, too! I almost got OUT of the store with out the two littles causing a major ruckus. I was in the check out line!!! Almost out of the store!!! BJ Dude was being good and helping me unload the food. He was holding jerky in his hand that was his “treat” for being good in the store. Cinco’s treat had already gone through and he started to panic that BJ Dude wasn’t going to put his jerky on the belt, so he grabbed the jerky out of BJ Dude’s hand to put in on the counter when BJ Dude all but tackled him and choked him to get it back. So Cinco took the $1 plastic machine gun that was his “treat” and whacked BJ Dude over the head with it—all the while screaming at each other.
Fortunately, only two or three checkers, two or three baggers, and the people behind me in the checkout line noticed and commented on the event—that was after their oooh’s and ooooo’s and oowww’s.
This particular moment is the double-edged sword of motherdom! You don’t know if you’re with the “that kid needs a good spanking” group or the “if she lays a hand on that kid I’m calling Social Services” group.
It’s at those precious moments that you feel like there’s a big neon light over your head with an arrow pointing down at you flashing in hot pink neon “BAD MOM!”
Resisting the urge to jerk them both up by the seat of their pants and kick their little butts through the door for embarrassing me like that, I grabbed Cinco firmly by the arm and with that clenched teeth smile “whispered” something to the effect that he was a dead man when we got home. I tried to rub BJ Dude’s head and get that stupid jerky scanned and run out of the store. I kept waiting for the announcement over the intercom “Code Black and Blue on checkout 5!” Of course, the bagger was an older man who was so kind to help me all the way to the car. (The young kids never want to help.) He did offer some kind of words but I was caught between sheer anger and embarrassment.
I ranted and raved all the way home in the car. Trying to explain to a three year old how much trouble he’s in is not very effective, in case any of you were wondering. By the time I got home and was going to throw Cinco’s fanny in his room. He kept saying, “but I told BJ Dude I was sorry.” (Which he actually did while I was ranting in the car) And, of course, BJ Dude had accepted the apology. These two had resolved the problem before I entered the driveway.
Which is the second problem of motherdom—do you throw them in their room or melt like a popsicle because they were so nice to each other for 5 minutes? There are just no books on these kinds of scenarios. I think I still made Cinco have a little room time, but it’s true, I’m a marshmallow. Plus I had all those groceries to unload. Written 1/18/04