People all over the world are at this very moment pondering the meaning of life. Some will search for answers until they die, others will find their greater purpose and do their best to serve. Me? Well, I don't even have to try.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again and again: I was put here to make God laugh. Doesn't necessarily mean I'm a funny gal, though some think so (thanks, Mom). Doesn't mean I can tell a good joke (thanks, Dad). Nope, The Big Guy simply put me here to jerk around like the Mother of all Pinocchios, laughing His Almighty Head off at the way I handle the crazy-ass situations He provides for me. I am His sit-com. My ratings are off the charts.
Let's just take today, for instance. I knew it was going to be a doozie, because, A)It's Wednesday; B)It's holiday season; 3) It's ME.
Like all minions of Hell, I'd started out with the best of intentions. At the beginning of Ryan's school year, I put my name down to serve on a plethora of committees, one of which was the Fall Festival. In my inane way of reasoning, I'd assured myself that it would not effect negatively on my life or the lives of my family, for the festival is a one-time thing, I'd only signed up to help the day-of, and it was after the Sale, and before Halloween. I neglected to remind myself of my penchant for hand-crafting our costumes and my tendency towards procrastination.
I really thought I'd had everything under control. Ryan's costume, which is the only one that REALLY matters, was 97% done, and I was an ant's ass close to finishing it. Although the head of the festival committee had assured me that it would be fine to bring Jax along, I'd made other arrangements for him, so that I could give my undivided attention to my festival duties (maning the Fishing For Pumpkins Booth).
Then Tuesday hit. I was rippin' and roarin', getting housework done, working on costumes, prepping, prepping, prepping, and then I crashed. 2:30 rolled around I felt like someone had stuffed my head with used kleenex, and it was not a good thing, Martha. I barely -- barely-- drudged through the rest of the day, depending solely on Shawn to pick up my slack, which he did without even one complaint. I was so ready to head off to bed at 6:30 pm, until Ryan's dance teacher called, announcing that since we had missed last Wednesday, she was not able to tell us that this Wedneday would be costumeday at dance, and could Ryan please dress up? Friggenenfrearamen.
So I stayed up and finished Ryan's costume, which realy just consisted of sewing brown yarn onto a head band in an effort to creat some sort of Dorothy-like 'do. (Shawn's idea: "Just spray-paint her head brown and be done with it.")With all the mayhem involved in finishing the costume a day early, I completely forgot to confirm my plans for the next morning for Jax, so that option sadly fell by the wayside.
I woke up this morning after a night of fitful sleep, anticipating the Day of Death, no doubt, crawled out of bed and into the shower. Got the kids off to a good start, made up my mind to bring Jax along to the festival, and deciding to bow out early to get him home in time for a nap before the 7th inning strecth, which is known as "Wednesday afternoon".
Drove the kids to school in a monsoon, but left early so as not to have to rush, which was great since it took us 10 minutes to make it from the parking lot into the school seeing as how we 3 had to shuffle ever.so.slowly so as to all be able to remain under the $3.99 umbrella i got on clearance at Target. We got Ryan off to class, then made our way to the auditorium. Once I got situated at my booth and realized we had 20 minutes until the kids actually showed up, I realized things would not be going smoothly for me. The reason? Jax.
Jax, God bless him, is not like other children. I say this out of pure love, and state it as a fact, seeing as how I watched him continually behave unlike any of the other kids his age this morning, and it was quite the sobering experience, I assure you.
My booth was Fishing for Pumpkins, which also happened to be the one booth from which I could not tear Jaxson away. You'd think I should be happy about being able to keep him so close in a room full of toddler-sized games, but when the game you are supervising invloves water, fish bowl nets, and Jaxson, things cannot be good.
Sure enough, he was happy for awhile, playing frivolously in the fishing trough, until it was time for the school kids to take over and play. Silly kids.
Some of the other moms saw me struggling and tried to distract Jaxson with Velcro Ghost Darts, coloring pages, and mini golf. Silly Moms.
Jax allowed himself to be enticed by the Velcro Ghosts Darts (balls), only so as to be able to pummel the supervising mom with 2 of the velcro balls, and take off with the other one, which he promptly threw into the fishing trough. Strike One.
He gaily traipsed over to the coloring tables, where he grabbed handfuls of crayons, tore off towards the fishing trough and threw them in. Strike Two.
We finally got him focused on golf, until he figured out he could run with the plastic golf club, which he did, and then threw it in the fishing trough. Strike Three.
At this point, the moms sauntered quietly away, leaving Jax to play by my side, since that's what he was going to do anyway. That actually went okay until he started fencing a couple of 2 yr olds with his fishing net, at which point we all decided it would okay if I left early. As long as I took him with me.
At least I was able to get him home early for that nap, got Ry's dress finished, and then we were off again to do the pre-school shuffle. Back to the parking lot, sloshing through the rain, then off to our playdate where I finally finished Ryan's wig with the help of my friend Melanie. The thing is, we didn't exactly use Ryan's head (or any head, for that matter) as a model, so she ended up looking like a cross between Billy Ray Cyrus and Daniel Boone with braids. She LOVED it.
We had just enough time to hustle over to dance, where she was the only girl not dressed as Tinkerbell (I am so serious it hurts), and everyone thought she was darling, or at least that's what they said to my face.
We left the YMCA, it rained some more, they yelled, we all took a bath together, I yelled, Daddy was late, I ordered pizza, they yelled, we ate dinner, Jax yelled, I put him to bed where he yelled some more, Ry yelled that she doesn't like it when I yell because it makes her feel "grown-upish", which apparently means "having to talk and make mean faces", so I stopped yelling, Shawn came home, he yelled about having to have pizza for dinner, made fun of Ryan's wig, and I went to bed.
So you see, I need never search for my meaning on Earth. It's all very very painstakingly clear.