Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Perfect Moments...Sometimes Go To Crap In 2.5 Seconds

I write often of the fragile combinations that make up a child's life; The irresistible upward motion of precariously stacked building blocks...The smooth symbiosis of peanut butter and jelly...The glory of playing in the rain, but the chill of the wind that follows.
While I normally write of these moments in the lives of children; Today I found, these moments can also be applied to adults.

Today was one of those days for me.
Today was the kind of day where I looked at people galavanting around without children, and thought, "Man, I wish...Just for a minute....Wouldn't that be nice?"

Don't wrinkle up your nose at me.

Every parent has those moments... and if you try to negate that...Well, I'll say're a lying sack of crap.

Everyone has moments like that.
 The vacations and spur of the moment trips that you can't go on.
 Trips to the grocery store that shave twenty years off of your life.
The worry.
The constant battle of keeping the toys in the toybox and the shampoo in the bottle, instead of down the toilet.

Folks, sometimes...having kids sucks.

Today started off a great day. Abby went to school, and Sammy took a long nap. I got a lot accomplished and we swam in the pool. It was really fun...until about an hour ago.

Abby asked if we could go to the splashpad and play, and I agreed. We loaded all of our stuff into the car and away we went. When we arrived there, my daughter (who is afraid of her own shadow) ran toward the water at a dead sprint.  She was laughing like a maniac. I sat down on the cement barrier sort of shocked and amazed, pulled out my book and started to read. After a while, Abby yelled, "Hey, Mom! Look at me!"

When I raised my head, I found myself almost blinded by the beauty of the moment. My children, bathed in the golden- end of the day sunlight, smiles beaming from ear to ear, running through the water and having the time of their lives. Without care or worry. They were living in the moment. Their laughs floated toward the sky with a heavenly grace that only children possess. It was, to say the least, one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen. They played for quite a while, and when Sammy approached me, shivering from the cold I decided it was time to go.

This is where my great day begins to unravel at the seams.

Dressing a shivering, wet two year old is difficult. What normally takes me about a minute or less took me five. I'm not sure what it is, but whenever an opportunity presents itself for my son to streak through the wild outdoors sans clothing... He does this with much gusto. It took me forever to chase him down, and then I recieved vicious looks from the fat woman sitting across from me when I spanked him with my wooden spoon. So, Sammy is crying and snot is flying everywhere, and...I still have to drag Abby's reluctant butt out of the water and dress her in some dry clothing. The conversation was sort of like this:

Me: Abby, come on, sweetie. Time to go.


Me: (eye starts to twitch) Abby, I am going to ask you one more time to come here so I can dress you. If I have to come get you I am going to spank you very, very hard with my spoon, and it will hurt. A lot.

Abby: THIS ISN'T ANY FUN!!!!!!!! I NEVER GET TO HAVE FUN IN MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!! I DON- ..Okay, Momma...No...No...No...No...No spankings. I'm coming. Please don't whoop me.

Me: You are gonna get a whoopin' when we get home. Come here and get dressed.

So, after much arguing during the redressing process and retreiving Sammy from the mud puddle by the splashpad, we were ready to go home. Now, keep in mind that during this whole redressing, get ready to go home period ...Abby continued to argue with me. Silently, and with her eyes, but still arguing.

There I am.
My eye twitching, wrestling with a muddy two-year-old blue eyed demon, mud caking my, "Bart Howell...The lesser of two evils." shirt, when I hear Abby let out an ear splitting scream. I look behind me to see her splayed out on the concrete like a crash test dummy. She tripped and skinned her elbow.

 The conversation went something like this.


Me: Abby. You are bleeding, but you are going to be fine. I promise. I will fix it as soon as we get home.


(This is the part where I sound like an insensitive ass, but you really had to be there. She was being excessively dramatic and it was hardly bleeding.)

Me: Abby, you are too big to cry this way. You fell down, but it's going to be okay. I'm going to make it feel better, but now...I want you to put a bubble in your mouth, and get in the car. I love you, and you're pretty, but you are being silly about this.

Abby: I'm not silly. I'm hurt.

Me: I know!!!!!!!!!! (Now I start to cry) But I'm tired, and I don't feel good and your brother is muddy and you keep arguing with me and all I want is for you to listen and not argue and just get in the car. Please?! PLEASE!? WILL YOU JUST GET IN THE CAR?!
Abby: Okay, but just don't cry for me like that. I'll do it, just don't cry.

Believe it or not, the very short ride home was one of complete silence that was broken occasionally by one of us sucking in air between our sobs. I bathed the children, bandaged their wounds and then... I ate a piece of chocolate.

Chocolate is like an emotional band aid... really, it is.

Today, I realized that, eventually, every cool thing starts to suck.

 Now, I'm not saying that every day with my children is laden with emotional breakdowns and paddlings with a wooden spoon.

Only clarifying that the idea of fragile combinations can not only be applied to the lives of childrens, but to adults as well.

I love my children, but today kind of sucked. That is all.

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