Today (Thursday) was one of those days. One of those days when I am absolutely certain that my every movement is some way or another going to impact my family, the community and all of humanity in a negative way.
My first clue that today was one of those days was the rapid rate of increased peevement I experienced when the remote for the television refused to function properly this morning. I mean, I was pushing the 2 over and over again, pointing it directly in line with the Infrared sensor. Uggh!! And why was it making that strange beeping noise? Why does everything have to break? Every day, it is something new.....our washing machine, our garbage disposal, our garage door opener, and now the television remote!! I don't even know how to change the channels directly on the television, even if I could muster the energy to stand up and actually move toward the idiot box. Watching t.v. shouldn't be this much work. I decided to throw the barf encrusted jumbo jerk of a thing off the deck(it wasn't literally barf encrusted, I just think some irrational things when I am...hormonal... I mean having a bad day).
Oh wait. I was trying to change the channel with the telephone.
For those of you who may just as easily make the exact humiliating mistake, the phone is the black communication device on the right and tv remote is the one on the left labeled Direct tv . I know it is confusing. But if I can save just one of you from making the same error, the terrorists will lose just a little bit more and I will feel as if I have finally made a positive difference in the world.
Fast forward a few hours. The kids are home from school and Corey has an evening meeting (Is there a meeting or is he, in actuality, aimlessly roaming the aisles at Shopko, dreading returning to his 'lovely' wife on one of her days? ). I recognize that I shouldn't be left alone with the children for too long on these days and do my best to keep a safe distance.
I, in an entirely different state of delirium, volunteered to play the piano at the upcoming 6th grade graduation. My fingers can find the proper keys when I am alone or with a crowd that shares my DNA, but it has been proven time and time again that my fingers revolt and go rogue whenever I play in public. I keep hoping that, surely, one of these times, I will be able to domesticate my flailing digits enough to keep them in line. So, in order to decrease the amount of strange note combinations, I self-committed to practice for at least 15 minutes a day before the graduation.
The kids are quietly playing and I have some free time before I have to make dinner. I sneak to the piano and start to practice. After just a few seconds, a paper airplane hits me in the cheek. Ansel swoops down with a little less grace than the airplane and contributes some fist-slamming bass to my Pomp and Circumstance. Not Cute. The girls start moaning in disgust. I yell.
Me: "Can you guys keep Ansel busy for just 15 minutes?"
Them: No Answer
Me: " I just need you to keep him out of my way and keep him alive at the same time. That isn't so much to ask, is it?"
Unidentified daughter: "I watched him yesterday"
Me: "I am running away from home! You can all feed yourselves and keep yourselves alive!"
I know that this conversation doesn't merit a runaway threat. Normally, this scenario wouldn't ruffle my motherly feathers a bit. But it is one of THOSE DAYS. Anything can happen on one of those days.
I run into my walk into closet (that'll show em), shut the door, and bury my face in a pile of clothes. Surely they will realize how much they need me, frantically and tearfully search the house, find me here, apologize, and tell me that I am the best mother ever and that they will from hereto and henceforth be the most angelic children on the planet.
No sounds of searching children
No crying or whimpering
No dialing of 911
No opening of doors
I open the door and search the house for them
They are all three sitting in front of the television
I didn't even stop to congratulate them on conquering the correct remote
"Hey, you guys! I just ran away from home. Didn't any of you care?"
Unidentified daughter replies, "Whenever you tell us you are running away, you never do."
So I guess that I have cried wolf a few too many times. If I do actually go AWOL one of these days, at least I know that my children won't be freaking out. Until then, there are a few great things keeping me close to home.
Ansel still fits in the bucket with all of his toys.
The warm weather has also brought some new smiling faces to our table
Summer salads. Thanks for the recipe King Chipee Chipee.
Feeding Venus her weekly fly.
Our garden is growing
Ever so slowly, our grass continues to grow. I think if Corey would stop staring at it, it would probably grow a little faster.