***DISCLAIMER: This post will be all over the place ***
Quite a while ago, I posted a blog entry titled:
Monday [Morning] Meltdowns ***Disclaimer(s) Provided*** (#1: You Know You're a Mom If...). Yes, I had to look at the date because I had no clue when it actually happened. The memory is gone, but that's a whole other can of worms.
Moving right along, the meltdown was from my then, 5 year old. The meltdown this morning, which wasn't really a meltdown per say; a little snit maybe, but I'll throw it in the mix with a meltdown because it had the potential, was from me.
This morning, we were up to our usual's. I was up at 6am, showered and ready by 6:15am, Bible Study & coffee (Ev was moving around in his crib by this time-6:40ish), wake up Owen, then pancakes for Ev & preparing Owen's morning ritual whilst whipping up the pancakes. All was well in the mother hood this morning. No whining, no crying, no fighting to get ready. It was all cooperation & love, which is rare. Pancakes done, Ev ready, O ready, backpack ready, Ev's bag ready, 7:15am and it's time to leave for school.
We get to the car & I apparently, parked the car a different way and Owen couldn't get in it. I, of course, broke out with my elevated, stern Mom voice & was like, "Owen, just get in the car." He tried. He knew better, but I insisted. WHACK! goes the door on a column underneath the carport. What I'm thinking in my mind (he has absolutely no clue what I'm thinking) is, I spend extra time every time we pull up in this yard putting a sheet over the hood of the car because the dern cat won't stay off the car (it was a rubber snake for about a week & a half, but that stopped working) and here you go and whack the door.
Immediately, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING????" Poor fella. I apologized on the way too school & told him I was terribly sorry & he knew already what the outcome would be & I didn't see. It was my fault, I shouldn't have raised my voice.
He's such a good boy & parenting so dern hard sometimes. Where's my dag-gum medal I deserve-DAILY!!! Sure, he's going through several "stages" that I would prefer to be OVER 20 minutes ago, but he is an awesome child. I don't have to be concerned how he's acting at school, he's a model student. He saves all the good stuff for me when he gets home (he actually said that to me in Pre-K); lucky me. I would prefer it be that way, then vice versa.
So, we practice our sight words, have breakfast at school, which is cold in the mornings & I realize that Owen's NEW jacket is missing from his bookbag. Yes, the one that I DID NOT write his name in. Oh yes. So, I drop Ev off at Mo's room for a second, O off at his (I look in his cubby, no dice) & head out for the hunt. To the computer lab-no dice. To the gym-no dice. To the playground-no dice.
GOOD GRACIOUS!!!!
All I can see are dollar signs because of my thoughtlessness of not putting the name in the jacket. BOOM! Mrs. Becky says, "Here it is!!"
Aside from being a lunatic mom, I am "typical woman" (that phrase reallllllllly irritates me coming from men because they don't have a dern clue what it's like) with hormones & mood swings & emotions, that I with I could turn off sometimes but alas, no dice.
Crisis averted (somewhat), Owen's at school, Evan and I are headed to the grocery store. Got a snub from a girl in the parking lot who always looks unhappy; don't know her, don't want to. I smile & say hello, but that's the extent of our conversations. I refuse to let unhappy people draw the happiness out of me.
The Piggly Wiggly was a quick trip. In and out. Got a fantastic compliment as I walked in the door about how I'm losing weight! YESSS, feels good to be me!
We get back home and Ev, of course, wants to watch Farm Country Ahead. He got this dvd for Owen's birthday from Aunt Joyce and we have watched it I know, 50 times (if not more). Did you know a Mama Milk Cow can produce up to 8 gallons of milk a day? I know lots of other little facts but, I won't ruin the ending for you.
He sits down to watch it, I put away the groceries & sit down at the computer for a quick blog post (this one), hop up to check on him & this is what I find:
You Know You're a Mom if...
you make many mistakes; none of which, are your children.
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