I’m beginning to feel too many days are ending with this thought. And by ‘ending’ i mean after putting the kids to bed. Because that, afterall, is when the day ends. My day is over at 8pm and if i didn’t absolutely know i’d regret it, i’d go straight to bed myself.
But i have to wring out my own thoughts a little before trying to hit the sheets. Doing so now would only result in a running dialogue in my head of the day’s events and the things i REALLY wanted to say to my children and the people i come in contact with.
The stupid people i come in contact with.
The day started fairly well as most terrible days so connivingly do. Lead you on into your morning coffee, tempt you through lunch. Tease you ’til nap time… then BAM!!
right between the eyes.
a tantrum saps your soul
Anyway, we started the day too early for my taste considering the late and happy evening the night before. But i pushed on and out of bed. Got everyone ready and went to a holiday festival outing at a school. It was suggested by an acquaintance and we had a good time. I somehow spent $20 but the kids had fun and it killed about an hour of our morning.
Next we went to see The Croods. My daughter decided to poop 10 minutes into the film. I don’t think it was her review, i think it was just coincidence. Anyway, she couldn’t sit down for the rest of the movie, so she stood up and played near the railing.
I was not going to change her because once she figures out there’s an ‘out option’ once the movie starts, our movie going is kaput.
Still, things were going fine.
Got home, attempted to recover from the popcorn and morning snacks. Next up was a birthday party for my son’s classmate.
Friday after school i’m going through the backpack when i find a Word Document printed bday invite for THE NEXT DAY.
I always feel like it’s my responsibility to take my kid to these because any bonus points he can get might make up for his behavior at school/on the playground/in the cafeteria/in the parkinglot/hallway/bathroom, etc.
No really, he’s a great kid.
So i show up on time.
I’m never on time. For anything.
This ‘party’ is happening at the local McDonald’s. I don’t even mind that. But we walk in, gift bag in tow, and there’s no sign or french fry indicating there’s anything resembling a party here.
We walk around.
Perhaps there’s a secret passage you only see when you are there for a birthday i’ve never noticed before.
I call home to have my mom check the trash can to make sure this is the right day/place/time when three rag tag people walk through the door. A little girl runs up to my son and excitedly points at him while looking at the most mature of the bunch.
I assume this is the party girl.
No one is carrying balloons, or a cake, or a streamer or anything resembling a sign or gift. They head straight to the play place without introducing themselves to me or my kid.
I immediately feel a bout of flu coming on so i can build a case for go time.
Someone mumbles something about ‘waiting for her dad to bring.. ‘ and that’s all i got.
I sit down and watch my son climb the petri dish play center. A kid in a party dress walks in with her mom and a gift bag. The 3 Amigos start shrieking for the bday girl to come greet her guest. She doesn’t come. Her older brother, however, greets the kid. The amigos stand up and SNATCH the gift and put it down on the floor in a corner behind their table and mumble a ‘thank you’ to the parent.
Then the parent drops off her kid. She asks permission and says she has some shopping to do.
No cell phone numbers were exchanged, no info given. Just “ok”. and she leaves.
I begin to chew on my judgement as i watch the kids play and eavesdrop on the Smiegel family.
They are not speaking English.
It sort of resembles Spanish, but also French. I realize later they are from Brazil based on the family that shows up later in proud shirts and jackets.
After about 30 minutes, the dad shows up with his current girlfriend. White girl with long red hair.
How much more opposite can you go ?!
He has a balloon – singular – and the cake.
Really ?! The party started at 4. There was zero traffic. It’s a Saturday afternoon. Normal people are already at their weekend fun destination by this time. You couldn’t manage to set up this shadow party before people stumbled into the fast food playground ?!
Ok. My judging became more of a cud at this point that i kept chewing over and over. There was no one to talk to!
Aside from the crazy nutjob that parked her keister next to me along with her 2 arguing fighting bickering boys which she threatened the whole 2 hours with “We are leaving in FIVE MINUTES if you don’t stop it.” Each time they left to play she sat cackling at her phone which she held 2 inches from her face.
It was a lalapalooza of freaks and geeks. I was representing the geeks, i know.
So we managed to make it until the cake cutting which my son opted out of. If it’s not chocolate, or without at least a chocolate sprinkle, he’s not interested. We headed out. Yes we were the first to leave, but I reasoned since we were the first there – even before the dang family and bday girl – we got to leave first.
We come home and head out to play in the backyard. After about 30 minutes there was a tug – of – war with some chalk that my son won, yanked out of the 2 year old’s hand, he turned as he was doing his victory hoot and ran into the deck post which knocked him to his ass on the asphalt scraping his elbow in the process.
I choked back a “See what karma does to jerky big brothers?!” and went to help him.
Screams, people. Shrieks from the depths of hades flew out of his mouth.
My daughter began screaming over the lost chalk.
I picked up what i could, including my older
daughter child off the ground, and headed in.
My son whimpering and crying over my 2 year old who was trying to outscream him.
That was just the beginning.
Next came the cleaning ritual.
The neighbors somehow did not call CPS. .. unless they are still en route and got caught up at a ESL McDonald’s bday party.
My nearly 7 year old son stood in the bathroom, shirt off, holding his injured scraped elbow and he was hopping and screaming at me to help him… which i was right in front of him trying to do.
Every time i lifted something to try i was answered with a SCREAMING “NOOOOOOO!!!!”
Surely I was going to amputate his forearm without anesthesia.
I put down my rusty saw and tried to simply pour water over his 2 inch scrape.
For the next 30 minutes I was screamed at, yelled at , and made to feel like a monster until finally having to walk away….
It was insane.
I felt bad for him, but he quickly caused that feeling to be replaced with wonder. Wonder at how such a smart kid could go so extremely far off the deep end.
Stupid me didn’t think to resolve it with bribery before the 30 minute dance of insanity. I was in preservation mode i guess.
It finally occurred to me that Peeps have a reason for being invented.
To calm my irrationally wound up 6 year old enough to fix a scrape.
It was an instant calmer.
Fucking sugar coated marshmallow.
I couldn’t console my child, but a mouth full of future tartar did the trick in the blink of an eye!
So at this point i’m wrung out. Done. Brain dead for the night… and possibly the remainder of the weekend.
I’m not completely convinced there wasn’t crack in that McD’s cheeseburger. He was acting about as sane as a crack head surrounded by powdered sugar.
Maybe i’ll have a funny anecdote out of this tomorrow, but for now, meh.