Saturday, February 9, 2013

Greatly outnumbered and in need of an extra extra large

5:30am, Mr. Man's alarm goes off. Mind you, I had stayed up quite late last night, thinking I would be sleeping in. I lie in bed thinking I should tell him there's leftover casserole in the fridge; an entire casserole to be exact. My breakfast casserole I took to MOPS was left untouched, except for 1 mercy piece my girlfriend Marfa took. (Martha, but being that my 3 yr old called her Marfa, it's what we call her) I hear Mr. Man turn on the shower. I think of how I should be doing a yard sale today. I keep telling my mind to turn off, and try to roll back over. I manage to bark, "There's leftover breakfast casserole in the fridge!" I'm up. 6:00am.

The boys are in rare form today. They are fighting, and bouncing off the walls. I will myself out of bed to shower and blow dry my hair. Bless my beautician, but when I told her I wanted "layers" she took it to the fullest extent. I must now blow dry, and straighten my hair to get it to resemble somewhat of a non-redneck cut. We load up and head to our local barber shop. We have been going to the same shop since we moved here. (They are the only barber shop in town.) The shop is run by the original owner, and his grandson. It's roughly the size of my master bath, and the decorum resembles it's original late 60s glory, with the exception of a flat screen tv that is turned just so that the barbers can watch. It is busy. We wait for nearly 45 minutes to get cut. Again, old man barber does not cut my boys' hair. Somewhere in the nearly 7 years we've been going, I've offended him, and only his grandson gives the boys a trim. We sit. The boys talk loudly. They run amok. They fight over kindles, and dsi's, they ask to use my phone. They loudly complain that people are "cutting in front of us" when they are not. 

Two hours later, we emerge. It's way past lunch. My plan of dieting is shot. This morning, I ate a "FULL BAR" with 2 glasses of water. I don't know about it making me feel full, but after all of the water, I felt quite nauseous, so I guess it did its' job. We stop at Sonic. An entire cup of water gets spilled on the van floor, and a random sweatshirt soaks it up, but I am determined to follow through with our day. I'm obsessively researching decor to redo my house. I want to check out several stores.

Store One.The two oldest boys are talking loudly and grabbing each other. I make them wait w/ the cart while I take the smallest one to the bathroom. I tell him, "I am about to tinkle my pants!" He tells me very seriously, "Mommy, you go first then! I can wait." I come out to find #3 missing/hiding. This is his new game that he find quite hilarious. He will continue this game w/ me for the rest of the day, only emerging when I call to him in a panic stricken voice. The oldest two continue to wrestle, yell, and do everything but walk with me. I give up trying to look at any breakables, and search for a blazer. My mom (who has told me on many occasions that I "dress like an old lady") has ordered me Lucky magazine. Blazers and skinny jeans are in this season. I try on a cute black and white checked blazer and remark that it's a bit tight around the bust, and wish there was an X-large. Cam remarks, "Or an X-XLarge for you!" We leave.

Store Two. The youngest lets loose and runs through a myriad of glass vases and plates. He refuses to hold my hand, and we leave the store with him screaming, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I DON'T WANT TO GET A SPANKIN!" 

Store Three. My nerves are shot. I feel numb. I have given up all hope of being able to leisurely window shop, and tell the boys they have 10 seconds to pick out Valentines for their class. A woman walks by and tells me how "brave" I am to be shopping with 4 boys. I tell her, "Stupid more like it." I realize this sounds harsh, and laugh and smile at her. As we take groceries to the van, I rip the bag containing the juice boxes, and have to carry them across 2 parking lots to our car where we parked at Store #1. My nerves are shot. By this time, all of the boys have been grounded, and have been told upon arriving home, they will be going in the back yard to run off their energy. 

Cereal for dinner. I am drained. The drain to the kitchen sink is plugged up. I tell Cam (who's job is to load the dishwasher) to stick his little hand down there, move the silverware, and running the garbage disposal. I run a bath for the two little boys. I come back to find Dylan and Cam using a plunger on the kitchen sink. The same plunger that was used to unclog the toilet this morning. Cam insists he'll "run the garbage disposal after" he plunges. I going in to wash hair. Kieran wants to know why they can't stay in and play. I reply, "Because, it has been a terrible, horrible, no good very bad day." As I'm soaping up his hair, Kieran says, "Well, at least you didn't slip in the mud like Alexander." 

We get through tubbies in 30 minutes. I guess the boys know I am at my breaking point, because none emerge from their room. Quiet house. I am not surprised when Mr. Man calls at 8 to tell me he is going to be late, and still has paperwork to finish. He calls back at 9:50pm to tell me he is on his way home. I tell him, "I cannot talk. I need to blog."

Do you all ever have days like these? Days where you hope and pray that sleep will wash your mind clean, and you'll be able to wake up and do it all over again? Well, you're not alone. I do too. And while the thought did cross my mind that "this is why animals eat their young," I am happy to report no such cannibalism, occurred today. And that my friends is all she wrote, for tonight at least. <3 Suzzy

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