Yesterday I sat, trying to figure out something meaningful to write, not a rant, not a conversation. Something with a little heft. Because, let’s face it, that’s all I have time to do, just write something with a little meat with the only editing being a spell check and a read through. Imagine my embarrassment months later when I read an old post and find some simple, silly grammar mistake. My father’s words echo in my head, “How much was that English degree again?” whenever I make some simple, silly grammar mistake in my speech. At least, it’s better than what he does when I make a real life mistake; he tugs on a lock of hair and says, “I see the blonde genes are coming through.” Yeah, thanks.
But I had nothing. Well, I did get something. But by that time, I only had five minutes to write it. At least I remembered to write it down, so that I had a post idea locked and loaded. I even planned to write the post last night. Ha.
The morning started out great. We slept in a little too long, but everyone was up and atom ( I couldn’t resist.). They even had time to play! It was amazing. We dropped off Tornado E and headed out to run some errands. After ten days of being stuck under household arrest, I couldn’t wait to go stand in line behind a little old lady who would argue that “no, that item was in the clearance bin so it must be on clearance,” even if it clearly did not have a clearance tag on it and it was an insanely expensive item. As we drove along, The Gorillaz’s “Clint Eastwood” played on the radio, and I blasted it so Tornado S and I could sing along. I parked the car at the back of the parking lot for the steps. The song ended. I turned off the car.
Then Tornado S threw a temper tantrum. Because the song wasn’t over. Nothing would convince him that it was over before I turned off the car. NOTHING.
After five minutes, I finally convinced him that we would go watch the video as soon as we got home.
Crisis over. Then I opened the door.
He threw another tantrum because I opened the door, and HE was going to do it.
I shut the door. Open it now!
No, he was in full meltdown mode.
I pantomimed him to open the door, exaggerating my gestures and facial expressions. He stopped crying. He started laughing. Then snot ran out of his nose and into his mouth. I started gagging. Apparently that was funnier.
He finally got out of the car. I got Tornado A out.
I counted down the hours to Wii video game t- AH CRAP!!! I took it away. I took away video games last night because Tornado S failed to pause the game to go use the bathroom and Tornado E decided to mess around so he didn’t have time to do his reading homework. Crap. Crap. Crap.
So we went to the organic grocery store for vegetables and deli meat. And Darth Vader was no longer with us. Tornado S insisted he had Darth Vader in his basket when we got out of the car. I looked down the aisles. Nothing. Of course the aisles were black too, so I had to look hard.
I dragged him through the store, paid for my purchases, dragged him out of the store, and sat him down on the sidewalk out of the way.
Throw your tantrum so we can go to the bakery.
I decided to buy something at the bakery for the Tuesday snack instead of another day of popcorn and Icees at Target. I was hoping the bakery would have fresh pretzels. I was not so lucky, and I decided to calm Tornado S down by letting him help me pick out a snack.
Why am I so stupid?
No eclairs. No napoleons. No clam shells. No cream puffs. No cake. Cookies? Um. Sure. Three cookies and a stuffed crescent with chocolate. But now that I think about it . . . . No. Stay strong.
Bless that family-run bakery; they handed the boys rolls as I paid. Luckily, this time no one let Tornado A out the door.
So I didn’t get a tantrum until we got to the next store, which did not sell Darth Vaders. Somewhere I “promised” to buy a new one. I was about to bang my head against the steering wheel.
A tantrum to go to the store was avoided by a ride in the cart. Everyone was happy.
Until we got back into the car.
Then Tornado S wanted his cookie now! And that wasn’t going to happen. Then he looked into the bag and learned that I didn’t buy the cookie he picked out. Oops. And why weren’t we going to buy a Darth Vader now?!
Someone in the car needed a nap. Or a time out.
Yes, I wanted a time out. Maybe I would sneak a little chocolate. Maybe I would read a book for five minutes. Maybe I would fantasize about the boys being taken care of by their loving grandparents while I was far, far away, enjoying being an adult. Without kids.
Then we got home. And he didn’t want me to open the door. He wanted his dessert. He didn’t want me to unbuckle him. He wanted his Darth Vader. He didn’t want me to get Tornado A out first. He wanted all his toys back in the basket because he kicked it over in his tantrum. He didn’t want me to put down the garage door or go inside or go change Tornado A or go to the bathroom. He wanted his cookie. He wanted his Darth Vader. He wanted his shoes off and on.
He followed me around the house. I finally opened the door and walked outside. Tornado A ran outside and kicked me the ball. We played, ignoring the crying, the yelling, the shouting. Then silence. Tornado S handed me a wand and told me I was Mario and he was Bowser and Tornado A was Toad.
But after lunch, when the cookies didn’t appear . . . .
How much longer to bedtime?