Pre-trip guilt trips

I am sitting in the airport waiting to begin a six day business trip…on a Sunday. Usually when I leave on a Sunday I try to do it later in the evening but I have a client to meet with tonight and a lot of material to review and a 12 hour day tomorrow so I decided I needed to get in early enough to get some sleep.

The kids slept over grandmas house last night because Chris and I had broadway show tickets that were purchased months and months ago. They didn’t arrive home until 12pm so I was literally counting the hours I could spend with them before I had to leave…4 hours. Samantha of course decides that for these 4 hours daddy is her absolute favorite person and they had to work in the basement together. Danny was owed some wii time so he busied himself with that. Luckily he was eager to let me play with him so he could scold when my skills fell below his expectations.

Then it was time to leave and he flipped the fuck out like he hasn’t done since he was two, crying that he only wants to hang out with his mommy!! Like I didn’t feel bad enough missing his last week of preschool. He spent the first ten minutes of the airport trip begging me to stay. (Samantha kindly suggested I get a car to pick me up by the way.) Then I remembered that angry birds in space released the donut board and the crying stopped….at least until we got to the airport and I took my phone back.

Somehow that round of crying didn’t make me feel as bad. I know the iPad will get a lot of use tonight!

I fear puberty

My daughter doesn’t talk as well as her older brother did when he was her age, so we made arrangements to have her evaluated.  The case manager is coming on Wednesday.

But now, she has me wondering, is she truly behind or just kind of bitchy?

She always gets her point across, but uses a combination of made-up words and multi-purpose words.  For example:

  • If my daughter were to say “Danny, that’s my chair”, she would say something like “Nya-nya boy, that’s me down.”
  • If she wants you to pick her up, she says “Me down.”
  • If she’s done eating, she says “All down.”

In her world, “down” is the ultimate word.  It means up, down, chair and done.

She also rarely calls anyone by their actual names.  As mentioned above, Danny is “Nya-nya boy”, her friends Charley and Ava at school are respectively “Baby” and “Sheisha”.

When you ask her what her name is, she emphatically replies “Baby” over and over again.

But today, Charley came over for a play date.  Instead of calling her “Baby” like she always does, she called her Charley.  When I asked Charley what Samantha’s name was Charley answered correctly, as I had hoped.  I thought she might provide a good example for Samantha, so I asked Samantha what her name was and she said “Amantha” without a moment’s hesitation.  I was thrilled!  She had finally learned how to answer the question people have been asking her for the past year and a half.

After Charley left, I was eager to show her daddy her new trick, so I said “Watch this (full of pride)…Samantha’s what’s your name?”  “Grampa” with devilish grin.  “No, Samantha, what’s YOUR name?”  “Gramma” with a giggle this time.  “SA-MANTH-A, what’s your name?”  “Mamma” with full-out laughter.

To make a long story short, I hate her and my husband and I are planning to escape the second she starts menstruating.

Being sick and having others depend on you for survival sucks

I think I am getting sick.  Not just a headache, not just nausea, not just a cold, but the dreaded combo of all of the above.  And being sick with kids is the absolute worst thing about being a mom.

As much as being sick sucks, I can remember fondly days when I stayed home from school/work watching Saved by the Bell or movies like The Breakfast Club or a sanitized version of Fast Times at Ridgemont High on channel 11 (which was always on when I was home sick for some reason).  When all I had to do was drag myself out of bed to make some instant mashed potatoes or soup so I could survive or better yet, ask my mom/grandma to do it.

But when you have kids, it’s a whole different world.  They want attention and they want to be played with and they apparently need to eat and have diapers changed, etc.  And their voices become infinitely squeakier the worse your head hurts.

When all you want to do is die silently, you must function, no matter what.  You are forced to watch their TV shows (because it’s your best chance of keeping them quiet and immobilized), but you can’t escape to do dishes or play on the computer, because you are paralyzed and will, therefore, be tortured by SpongeBob’s laugh for hours on end.  You have to deal with them standing over you copying your gagging as you throw up, often after you change their diapers.  You have to “play” with them.  I sometimes just lie on the floor and encourage them to play “crush the mommy” just so I can stop moving.

Then you inadvertently get one or both of them sick, and the entire house is cranky and dying (some of us more quietly than others) and hating each other.  One of my kids is upstairs coughing/sneezing as I type this and my youngest was unusually cranky today, probably getting sick.

I’ve tried doubling up on my Vitamin C, echinacea and all those anti-germ drinks.   None of those things ever seem to work (and I would rather die than drink those drinks), so I am going with a much more enjoyable tactic – attempting to drown the germs in a red wine called Wildebeest because it sounds tougher than other wines.  Wish me luck!