Then, my question became, well, "How do I refill the tank?" Yes, there are absolutely ways that I can re-energize and renew my spirit but I'm even emotionally empty. There are no more tears to cry. There are no more tantrums of "It's not fair-itis" to throw. There's truly nothing but auto pilot.
While I was pondering this, I decided to try to do something fun and different with the kids this morning. I heard about a cute little cupcake and ice cream shop across town. I figured the kids would love to substitute one of those choices for a PB&J sandwich for lunch so we loaded up and headed out.
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| They're coming to get my food! |
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| Do you seriously want me to share this? |
As we got back into the van, Grant suddenly got sullen again. I'd just about had it. I finally told him he had two choices. Choice one was to tell me what he was pouting about and choice two was to tell me what he was pouting about AND have a consequence. He burst out with, "That is such a chick joint!" What? Really? Are you kidding me? After a few more questions, he told me that all of the GIRLS at school talked about going to this little cupcake place and he felt like I'd insulted his manliness by "forcing" him to go there. Hmmmm... He sure didn't seem to mind it so much when he was downing his $7 cup of ice cream! I really tried to just let it go and believe that this was just one of those weird middle school things that I was just going to have to go along with despite not understanding it. Meanwhile, the girls were in the back of the van talking about going to grandma's house to get more ice cream. My thought was, "Yeah, you could have two gallons of ice cream AND M&Ms!"
When we got back home, I gave Dasha a list with three chores on it to complete while I went upstairs to finish laundry. I'm trying to get all of the DVDs and toys out of the living room before we start the job of ripping up the carpet to put the new flooring down. I know that if I have things clean and organized before the demo begins, I'll be in a much better place mentally! Anyway, I put Annie down for a nap and told Grant that his room had to be cleaned before he could do anything else. I also told him that it needed to be done up to MY quality standards - not his!
I left the kids to their various tasks and headed to my room to fold the tower of laundry that was oozing off of my bed. I ironed and folded for almost an hour before I heard a scratching sound. I thought maybe Annie was up. Nope. I went to check Dasha's room. One of the jobs that she'd needed to tend to was moving some of her winter clothes into a plastic storage box. The scratching was coming from inside the box. Yep. My cat. Inside the box. Lid snapped on tight. Should I cry? Nope. It doesn't help. It just depletes my energy. When I asked Dasha to explain the situation, she could only tell me that it was an accident. Yeah. And my finishing off those chocolate chip cookies was an accident, too! Whatever! Believe it or not, I just walked away. I still haven't even addressed it with her. It doesn't seem to matter. She'll agree that it's a bad thing today but then do it again tomorrow. It's pointless. I guess I'm just going to have to give my poor old cat away. She's too old for this kind of torture. I just went back to folding laundry. I really sort of felt like Rainman. Standing there taking great comfort in folding clothes. Kmart sucks. Kmart sucks. Kmart sucks.
Then, this afternoon Dad and Grant went to a race at Dixie with the scouts so I decided to try to convince mom to let me stash the other two inmates with her. Mom agreed to take charge and I was left to figure out what to do. I had two options. My first option was to go and get a pedicure. This is a major luxury but one that I try to take every so often. My second option was to go roam the fabric store without any children trying to kill old ladies on scooters or escape from the buggy (remember that trip)? I decided to head to the fabric store. I've wanted to make a new curtain for my bathroom for some time so I thought tonight would be a good night to look for something suitable. Mom asked me to return a couple of things for her at a neighboring store while I was out. Obviously, I agreed quickly for fear that she'd renig on the babysitting deal!
I took the longest route possible to the fabric store. I opened the sunroof, the windows, and turned my music up. It was just what I needed. (If I'd only known what was coming next, I would have just gotten onto 285 and kept doing laps all night long)! When I reached Hobby Lobby to return mom's stuff, I noticed that it was getting cloudy and I thought I heard a rumble of thunder. The ONLY concerning thoughts I had at that point were about Dad and Grant at the race and being pretty sure that they didn't have an umbrella and calling Mom to tell her that Annie has just developed quite a fear of thunder. So, I stopped and called Mom and then went on in the store. About the time I'd finished the transaction, the bottom fell out. It was like the scene from Forrest Gump where he describes the rain as "coming up from the ground." Oh well. I decided to roam around the store for a bit while the rain slowed to more of a monsoon-type rain. I could hear the rain pelting the roof but I really didn't think too much of it until someone on the loud speaker said, "Could the owner of a white van please come to the front of the store?" Yeah. At best, my thought was, "Crap!" I was quite sure that they weren't calling me to the front to tell me that they were going to give me a million dollars for driving a white mini-van! Nope. There was quite a gathering of folks standing in the foyer of the store staring toward where I'd parked the van. The van was swimming. Yep. The water was up over the door jamb. All of these jerks standing there were laughing about it. As I stood there wordlessly trying to figure out what to do, I just felt lost. Some how, I finally got my senses together and realized that I could wait the rain out but the water in the parking lot probably wouldn't recede very quickly. The drain in the parking lot was obviously stopped up. Or, I could just make a run for it and crawl in through the back of the van and try to move the van before any more damage was done. I went with the second option. I literally shoved my way through the amused patrons and ran toward the van. Before I reached the van, the water was up to my calf. Not good. Now, I had all of those goof-balls watching me, too. So, I popped the back of the van with the remote (yeah, real cool like Knight Rider or something). What I'd neglected to think about was the stroller and the box of clothes that were stowed back there to go to the consignment store. Great. Somehow, I managed to crawl over everything and over the back seat knowing that everyone was watching my wet butt struggle over the seat. By this time, I was majorly pissed and crying. For me, those two things don't translate into grace or patience. I finally dropped into the driver's seat and looked around to see that most of the carpet was dry. That was at least a bit of good news. As I put the key into the ignition, I suddenly wondered what would happen if the van wouldn't start. Thankfully, it did. I backed out of the water without any more drama. I drove around the parking lot a few times to make sure that the brakes were ok and that nothing was going to blow up. There was some shrill belt squealing but it stopped eventually. (I'm not sure if the belt just blew off and the poor van didn't have the heart to quit on me or if the belt just dried out).
So after a wet vac and some elbow grease, I think the van will survive. My emotions, however, are shot. I started off the day in the "numb" category. Normally, that is like "safe mode" and protects me from tears or other outbursts. It didn't work today, though. I know the people at the car wash where I vacuumed the van thought I was completely nuts. I didn't care.
I finally got back to Mom's and grabbed the girls and high-tailed it to a safety zone - home. I went back to the comfort of doing laundry after I had the girls in bed. Grant and Dad were still at the race so I went into Grant's room to grab his laundry basket. I figured that when he'd cleaned his room up this morning he'd unearthed at least a couple of pairs of undies from under his bed. Hmmmm. Empty hamper. How? Wait a minute! Yep. As I pulled his mattress back from the wall, I found everything that had been littering his floor stuffed behind the bed. The deal was that he was supposed to clean up based on MY cleaning quality standards - not his. Does he think that this would meet my standards? His room was supposed to be cleaned before he went to the race tonight. He tricked me. Do you remember my statement about feeling like the big kids had decided to both play the crazy card on me at the same time? Yep. This is just more evidence.
So, Grant will be sad to know that when he gets home, his phone will no longer do anything more than make phone calls. No internet, games, or anything else. And, he won't be surfing the internet on any of the home computers, either. I have truly never had to put him on a serious "restriction." Maybe that's why we're dealing with it now. I don't know. I'm sure not in a position to figure anything out tonight except how much Nyquil I can take without doing permanent damage! Geez.
I do admit that I rolled around in quite a bit of "It's Not Fair" ooze over the last few hours. I kept thinking, "While I'm dealing with one snotty nosed child that hasn't slept through the night in a week, one child with Pig Pen's genes, and one who seems to be intent of knocking my cat off, he's going out to eat, going to concerts, and sleeping in." I don't even know why I travel down that road anymore, though. It's not like it makes me feel any better and it sure doesn't change anything. I just don't understand. Don't get me wrong, though. There are days when I'd like to walk away from everyone and everything for a breather but I could never do it for than more than a day or two. It's been almost three months since he's seen the kids. How? I've got to tell you that absolutely NOTHING could keep me from these kids even at their craziest moments. I just don't understand. The kids don't understand. Oh well. He's not the man he once was I guess.
On that note, I'm going to bed. My head is a hurricane of thoughts swirling around and my heart feels physically heavy. (No, my blood pressure is just fine, thank you. I had a check up on Wednesday and got a clean bill of health minus the sinus infection)! Anyway, I know hundreds and thousands of other women have walked this road and probably had worse situations than I have. I just don't know how they do it. Where I used to think I was strong, I now find that I'm weak or maybe it's just that I'm broken. Too much to figure out for me tonight or even for a counselor in a year!
Good night, all.
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