TheMommyBlog

Sunday, June 06, 2004 Bad Mood Dude

OK people, listen up (heh?it?s never good when I start out this way, is it?):

When someone is in pain, in mourning, in the emergency room, in the doctor’s office, or even within earshot, do not, I repeat: do not say this to another human being. Ever.

“Ya know, whenever something bad happens to me, I think back to something bad that happened two or three years ago and JUST CAN’T remember why it seemed so bad at the time.”

Not to overshadow the immense loss and heartwrenching personal tragedy Ollie suffered this weekend, but I can’t get over the urge to strangle the spectacularly clue-free medical professional (!) who thinks this is helpful. Gah.gurgle.strangle.burble.gah.gah.gah.

Sunday, June 06, 2004 Me, Me, Me

I’ve decided to give a really, really, super-uber cool gift to the 50,000th visitor to this blog. I don’t know what it’ll be, exactly, and it may be influenced by the recipient, but it will be nifty. I promise.

We’re still a ways away, but as we are at 49,599 at the mo, it could happen by the end the the day tomorrow.  Oh, and by the way, I am under an incredible freaking deadline so if I don’t catch it, a screen capture would be lovely!!!

Saturday, June 05, 2004 Me, Me, Me

More reasons to pat myself on the back today:

&middot I took three children to a company picnic on a working ranch deep in the valleys south of San Jose all by myself.

&middot I got them all to sit down and eat a good lunch.

&middot They did not spill one item of food or drink.

&middot I only had one tiny small glass of wine, even though they had an entire table set up for tasting.

&middot I put on a swimsuit in front of my co-workers, God, and all creation, and spent an exhilarating, screechy, giggly hour in the pool with my kids.

&middot Despite the fact that not one of them is tall enough to stand even in the shallow end, no one drowned.

&middot They all got out when I did, and did not complain.

&middot We all got tattoos, and there was no shoving or whining. Logan’s is a watermelon slice, Dylan’s is a triple-scoop ice cream cone, Daphne’s is a tulip, and mine is an African design, a stylized cowrie shell. On the way home, Dylan swiped his arm across his face and gave himself a pointy, Sanchez-style mustache and goatee. Heh.

&middot Ice cream sundaes? We ate them. And their clothes stayed clean.

&middot We all sat together on a blanket, and were joined by the HR director, the former President of our organization, and the Chairman of the Board. Did you get that? They came and sat with us. On the grass. By choice. And stayed a while. And no one threw up, or pooped on the ground, or dumped ice cream on their heads. I was almost weeping with pride and gratitude. And then the current CEO came by and told me she had a referral for me and to be sure to come see her before I left. *hugs self with happiness*

&middot When I decided it was time to go, all three children cheerfully agreed, and followed me to the car like sleepy little ducklings. But not before we chatted with the CEO, and they all thanked her politely for a lovely day.

What have I done to deserve such a perfect outing???

Saturday, June 05, 2004 Family

Tell me, have you ever found yourself standing in the hallway, eyes squeezed shut and shouting at the top of your lungs,

“Everyone!! Quiet! Mommy is going to pee all by herself this morning, so go away!!! And I don’t want to hear any pounding on this door!!!”

No? Well, I did. *sigh*

This morning (and keep in mind that it is only 7:38, people) has been an exercise in the surreal. I managed to sleep in until 7, but only by raising my head off the pillow at intervals to issue orders like “Stop jumping on Mommy!” and “Please get off me and go play!’ and “Hey—who wants to go jump on Daddy?” and “Elbows off the face!”

And then? When I dozed off again, I dreamed about shouting at my children.

I got up to discover that I am still cramping horribly, and that I have an inexplicable bruise on my thigh. Also? The guard rail on Daphne’s bed has been mangled beyond repair. Dylan had fallen off the end of the bed onto his nose… and come to think of it, that could explain the guardrail.

As I was scrambling a dozen eggs (Who has to do that? Who?), I alternately shook children off my legs and peeled them out of the candy drawer. I had egg shells on my feet, and the blood of two different humans on my jammies.

At one point, I actually leaned down, pulled a plunger-tipped arrow off of the cabinet door next to me, handed it to a child behind me, and went on stirring the eggs. A tic was forming under one eye.

And now? It’s quiet. I should relax, but it scares me, frankly, not to hear screaming. Think I’ll just go have a look…

UPDATE: They were each sitting in a chair in the living room, having a quiet debate about whether the current mess in the bathroom was poop, or just mud…

Saturday, June 05, 2004 QOTD

Except for that silence thingy, and, um, a bit of the gossip whatsis… yes! Sign me way up.