First, a little background:
Every year, Sean takes each kid to his office for a “birthday with Daddy” excursion. Since Noah’s birthday fell on the same day as a major, mandatory securities training meeting this week, Sean took him in on Monday instead. As a result, we skipped school on Monday.
Monday night, Caleb puked. Tuesday morning, Noah puked (twice). I never puked, but I spent the next two days SICK (ok, I was only SICK the first day—by yesterday I was just sick). Since I was having trouble performing complex tasks like consuming food and sitting up during that time period, we went two more days without doing school.
Needless to say, I started off the morning feeling really behind and determined to make the most of our day today. I was grateful for the fact that Sean’s grandmother was coming over this morning and would be able to keep the other kids occupied while Noah and I really hit the books. And the fact that she was bringing along a two year old cousin-ish person (Sean’s cousin’s son—first cousin once removed?)? Hey, I wasn’t going to complain.
Noah, however, was.
It didn’t matter to him that we were way behind. All that he cared about was that his brothers were getting to play with someone and he wasn’t. And, after and hour and a half of doing school and offering numerous warnings to pay attention, it became abundantly clear that he hadn’t paid attention to a single thing I had taught him. I told him that I was done wasting time and sent him to his room (with the understanding that we were NOT done with school for the day).
People, I have never before seen a child manage to break blood vessels around his eyes from a temper tantrum. But I saw it today. As I told Sean’s grandmother, it is probably a good thing that we live in a neighborhood with decent spacing between the houses. Otherwise, people might wonder about me. You just wouldn’t imagine that a kid could scream that loud for that long without some form of beating having occurred.
Without going into any more details, let’s just say that the rest of the day revolved around arguing about school. Which was finished approximately half an hour before bedtime.
Of course, I have three other kids, too.
That means that in between the fighting about school, I got to fight about naps, fight about bowel movements (seriously—do you think that Activia would work for a preschooler?), and be peed on. Twice.
To round out the parenthood festivities, I got to sit in the hallway rocking a sleepwalking/crying four year old who would only be comforted back to immobile sleep with several rounds of the ABC song (while my husband stood there laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation).
But, hey, if I get through tomorrow, I get a nice, relaxing weekend, right?
Unless you count the second family birthday party for Noah that we’re having on Sunday.
Oh, or if you want to take into consideration the fact that Noah’s birth family is coming for a visit on Saturday. On one and a half days notice (and, really, that half day consists mostly of the time that I will be asleep tonight…). And as excited as I am to see them again…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.*
I’m approaching the point of stand-naked-in-a-cornfield-screaming-while-simultaneously-laughing-maniacally complete emotional breakdown. And anyone who has been to my house knows just how accessible a cornfield is.
On second thought, maybe I should spare the scarecrows the emotional damage (and my mother the embarrassment—it is a re-election year, after all) and just go to bed. After all…tomorrow is another day.*
*No, my middle name isn’t Scarlett (although I did name my dog after her), and I’m not from the south. But who can resist a great literary reference in the midst of a panic attack?