|Moments before it all kicked off...|
The monsters and I are currently 'not speaking'. They are sitting down watching a Disney movie and I am sat here in front of my laptop sipping a strong latte and wondering if I can make it through until tomorrow night when the husband (hopefully) comes home.
You see I've had it. HAD IT.
"Why?" you ask.
Well, let's see. I'm in a fairly bad mood to be honest, yet I can't quite pinpoint exactly which of the various incidences that occurred are to blame. Which one exactly was responsible for pushing me figuratively over the edge? Hmmm...I wonder. Let's take a tally shall we?
While on my morning run, Egg and Dumps availed themselves of my expensive lotions and potions and made a 'potion' of their own. As I walked through the door, perspiring and talking myself down from a mini heart attack, I was met by two grinning little boys proffering a concoction of goo. (Said 'goo' must be the most pricey stuff on the planet given it's made from the best Biotherm, Ole Henriksen, MAC, Korres and Murad have to offer. URGHHH!) I mentally calculate that their 'experiment' has cost roughly $40 or so.
I discover three new stolen screwdrivers by the toothbrush holder and the bathroom light fixture falls off when I go to turn on the light. Of course it does. There are no screws left holding it in place. Thanks Egg.
Upon sitting down on the loo (us girls do that you know) I feel that familiar horrible feeling as I realise that for the millionth time I've just sat down on a wee-coated toilet seat. My freshly scrubbed thighs are now sopping wet and coated in little boy urine. This necessitates another shower.
I discover that my stash of (sugar-free) bubble-gum has been discovered and pilferred. Once I start looking around the bedroom I find odd little pale pink piles of discarded chewing gum everywhere. Thanks guys.
Driving to the park, Dumpie suddenly undoes Egg's seatbelt in the back seat, followed by his own, then despite my shouting and gesturing like a mad woman, launches himself into the front passenger seat and grins over at me. I am livid (and panicking - there is no where to pull over as we are on a bridge) and Egg is screaming, "Dumps get back in your seat or the police are gonna stop Mama and put her in jail!"
Dumpie: "I don't care I will just get a gun and shoot the police if they take Mama!".
At that moment I look over and see that the next car over is a Sheriff's one. It's the first one I've seen in three weeks. I tell Dumpie to duck his head down so we don't get stopped. Moments later we pass yet another Sheriff and I am already concocting a story to tell the officer when I am pulled over. Lucky escape.
At the park, Egg idly picks up a cypress branch and starts waving it. We discuss how in Easter stories people are always waving branches as Jesus rides through Jerusalem on a donkey. I go back to my book. Next thing I know there is a full scale attack as Dumpie, wielding two sharp heavy sticks and spinning them Kung-Fu style, whacks Egg's wrists and arms repeatedly in an effort to get him to drop the branch so he can have it for himself (have I mentioned his amazing aim?). Everytime Egg gets whacked he screams out in agony, "This branch is for Jesus! This branch is for Jesus!" sobbing and trying to run away.
At this point people start to take notice. I suspect the screaming of Jesus' name has something to do with it. A few people stop what they're doing and stare openly as the 'attack' goes on for another five minutes or so. All that time I am pleading with them to stop fighting and almost lose an eye as I attempt to get close enough to Dumps to take one or both sticks off him. Finally I succeed and drag both children to the car, informing them that park time is now OVER. As I fish for my keys Dumpie runs back across the road by himself, back into the park and climbs atop the highest slide, sitting cross legged and resolutely refusing to come down.
After several minutes of cajoling, I retreat in defeat to the car, buckle Egg in and start the engine. Egg is still clutching his 'branch for Jesus' and insists on taking it in the back seat with him. I see parents gesturing, having noticed that I've left one son in the park and for all intents and purposes look like I'm about to drive off and abandon him (fyi that's one thing I don't have to worry about - anyone attempting to kidnap Dumps...good luck to them) and am aware what this looks like but have run out of options. Only as I'm backing out of the parking lot, eyes glinting with fury and frustration, does Dumps tentatively come down and stroll over as if nothing is the matter.
In the pharmacy a short while later (oh why oh why didn't I just go home and call it a day?) I am standing in a queue anxiously tapping my feet as the old dear in front of me rings through enough toilet rolls and instant coffee to get her through the next decade, then after painstakingly counting her change and getting her receipt, discovers that she's not used her special 'points'. The cashier says, "Do you want me to ring everything in all over again?" The old dear nods solemnly, "Oh yes, I must use my points."
(Normally, let it be said that I have all the time in the world for older folk. I know I'm going to be one some day and the way I see it, if I am this vacant and shattered at my age now, goodness knows what state I'll be in once I'm a pensioner; so let's just say I have a lot of empathy. However, as all this is going on, I am dying because Egg and Dumpie are clutching two giant Nerf machine guns and demanding I buy them. They are threatening to open the packages and trying to leave the store with them. I don't want to lose my place in line and am clutching onto the back of Dumpie's t-shirt, reasoning that if I can keep him under control, then I have a small chance of keeping Eggie in line with furtively whispered threats.
All of the sudden Dumpie stops struggling and I momentarily relax my grip. He makes a dive for it and races over to the giant display of Easter Creme Eggs and faster than I can fathom, has one open and in his mouth before I can stop him. I am (familiar theme here folks?) again livid and angrily whisper "Dumpie come here now that is very bad you are stealing!"
He laughs then dips his hand back into the huge display case and grabs another one. I give up all pretence of being a sane and together parent and leave my place in line to go over and wrestle another one out of his little hands on the floor, as he flings the discarded wrapper aside and pops yet another giant easter creme egg into his already bulging cheeks. (I'm trying to keep track of how many he's eaten and how many Egg has surreptitiously slipped in his pocket while all the commotion has been going on, mentally calculating not only how many to tell the cashier to ring up, but how I'm going to discipline the monsters when we get home, and how we have pretty much run out of places to shop and hang out.)
So you see, here I sit, a beaten woman. I love my little darlings, truly I do, and honestly, the times they are adorable and sweet and hilarious and angelic almost make up for days like today.
Almost. But not quite. Time for a glass of wine. (Sorry, did I say glass?)
|How do they go from this...|