I was having such a bad today. PMS, and all that stuff. I kept plowing through, though, which is a side effect of having kiddos -- I can no longer just succumb to the depression, anxiety and weight-obsession and crawl back into bed (still undecided as to whether or not this is a positive side effect or negative).
I just kept going, and it just kept getting worse. Nothing to wear? Fine. I'll apply all the makeup I own in an attempt to look good in sweats.
What's that? The 90 degree weather melted half of it before I got Ry to preschool? Whatever. I'll just go to the outlet to get that discount moisturizer I've been needing, some new shades, and a pair of shoes for Jax. That should do the trick.
Hang on -- did I just miss the exit? Have to drive 3 miles before a turn around? Hmmph. Well, I guess I better call Angie and tell her we'll be late meeting her and the boys at the library.
Shit. I left the phone at home. ugghh. Fine, I'll just rush and skip getting shoes for Jax, 'cause he doesn't really care, and then maybe I'll be a little late for the library, but no big deal.
Crap. Half an hour late for the library, Jax is hungry and crying (again), we just passed McDonalds and my stomach actually spoke to me (even as it was pouring itself over the top of my pants), and traffic is a bitch. No prob -- I'm sure storytime just ended -- maybe we can just go to Mickey D's for lunch and play there.
Except that I've really gained a lot of weight lately. And I did stop my tanning membership, so now I'm flabby and pasty. So maybe Mc Donald's isn't the best idea...I'll just search the library for them and we can talk about it -- looks like they must have left already. Hohum. I suppose I could always just go thru the drive-thru (Jax is hungry, after all).
Oookkkkaaayyy, maybe not. Just passed a woman pulling out of the donut shop drive-thru, greasy hair all tangled around her face, studiously examining her purchase. I cannot become this woman. She's in here somewhere, and she must not get out. I'll just fix tuna for lunch, put Jax down for a nap, then take the food with us to our playdate and feed him there before we go to dance.
God love it, I forgot to wrap the presents I'm bringing to the playdate (overdue new-baby gifts). Fuck it, I'll just throw the wrapping stuff in the car and do it on the way to get Ry.
Motherfucker, cut my damn thumb with the scissors.
Finally get to Ryan, teacher tells me she pinched a little girl today. IN CHAPEL. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but it must have been bad, because immediately the teacher insisted that Ryan really is a sweet, loving child and it was an impulse thing, and she apologized and it's all okay. ("Don't hurt the puppy! Please don't hurt the puppy!") Regardless, I sit down with Ryan in the teen-einy little hallway and discussed the situation. Then Jax throws himself against the wall, trips a mom coming out of a classroom, tears off running into an open storage room full of toys, and goes to town. Breathe, Amy. Breathe. Just get thru the playdate, get Ry to dance, and go work out -- things will feel better after you sweat off some frustration. (And the beer from last night. And the Chunky Monkey.)
For the love of God -- I left her dance gear at home. Alrighty, then. There will be no stress relief, I will die one big ball of tension, but not before we go to this playdate that has been rescheduled a zillion times, so no matter how badly I really want to just go home and sleep, I can't -- plus, I'd hate to think I'd slashed my thumb in vain.
Oh My. Sweet. Baby. Cade. 6 week old new baby hair! 6-week-old new baby ears! And fingers!! And toes! And smell!!!!!! This. This is my stress relief. This was exactly what I was needing. This is wonderful! I think I feel my uterus knocking -- and then...
Well, folks, then Jaxson mounts their dog and begins dry-humping him.