When the Shit comes MARCHing In

Last year it was January. This year it looks like our month of hell will be March. Fitting, since that's when EVERYTHING is happening.

I'm so sorry I haven't posted in so long, but like I said...March walked in and I bent over.

Friday was average, I guess. I had the kids signed up for Family Friday at the Y, thinking Shawn and I could get a few hours alone to just, umm, sit. Funny Mommy.

The drop-off went well, but then I didn't see Shawn until just before 6. One of my favorite bits about being married to a restaurant manager is the way they are never able to make plans with anyone other than the restaurant. She is my husband's mistress, and she and I are fixin' to throw down. Except for the whole "Sugar Mama" aspect of it -- I kinda like that he gets paid to be with her, so I guess I'll shut up now.

Two hours with no kids, so naturally we stayed home, drank beer and watched Def Comedy Jam -- not a complete waste after all.

We picked the kiddos up, stopped for ice cream, and had a semi-slumber party in our bed, watching Open Season, and delivering Jax to his bed when he just wouldn't sit still. All the while, Shawn's in his Blackberry, texting his managers who have all gathered at a bar and are requesting his presence. Too exhausted to do anything with me, but he can go out till 3 am with his WORK buddies who he sees, like, ALL THE TIME. Whatever, I'm an awesome wife, so I just smiled and didn't say a word. That's what the blog is for.

Saturday morning hit and the rush was on -- Ryan and her friend Chloe were having a joint birthday party at the mall, and I still hadn't put together the gift bags or wrapped either of the presents. I have no idea why now, but we had decided that 10-12 was a good time to have a party, so we needed to be out of the house by 9:30am. Did I mention that Shawn stayed out drinking until 3 am? Yeah, I don't know why I'm still under the mistaken impression that whenever he's home I'll have help. My life will be so much easier once I realize that he just increases my child:mom ratio to 3:1. Needless to say, we were late and I was stressed.

Oprah devotee that I am, I've really been changed by the whole "Secret" thing and Law of Attraction, intentions, etc, and so have been working really hard lately at sending out positive energy, trying to appreciate each moment for what it is and what it can teach me. Saturday morning showed me that my Yoga classes are even more valuable than I thought -- I was breathing like crazy trying to calm down and stay upbeat, when here comes Shawn with, "Why are you breathing like that? What's wrong with you? You are so weird." Like I said, 3:1.

The party actually was pretty great, and I'm so glad Chloe's mom suggested we do a combo thing, because I'm not sure I could have handled a party on my own this month. The kids had a blast, Shawn watched Jax (which was huge, seeing as how I was ready to let a stranger take him home -- he'd already jumped into the bubble bath that morning after having been dressed), I was finally able to have some "adult" time, chatting with the other moms, when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Amy Roberts!" There, smiling at me was my childhood arch nemesis -- the girl who lived across the street and tormented, nay, TORTURED me and my sisters when we were kids. Together with her brothers, they once stole my bike, tried to shove me down the storm drain, bombed our mailbox, and so much more... I'll never forget my mom suggesting I "kill her with kindness", leading to a month of me complimenting her at the bus stop every single morning like the little doormat I was.

"Hi!" I cheerily replied, and we began talking about her baby, my kids, her family, when lo and behold, I looked around and there they all were. All of them. Big Bad Scary neighbors and little 'ole Amy. Have I ever mentioned what a complete wimp I am? My heart was going 100mph, I started stumbling over my words, and all I could end up doing was complimenting every single one of them: "Great baby, nice clothes, cute wife, whatever -- just please don't hurt me!"

It was a sad, sad sight, and one I really wish my sisters could have seen, but not my mom -- Inflatable Wonderland is not exactly the best setting for a Julia Sugarbaker monologue. I love her, but I'm not sure the preschool crowd would understand...

Noon came and we hit the road, a motley crew of four, carrying coolers and presents, balloons and cake. When we finally made it to the house, it was naptime for everyone, since the kids and I had been up since 5:30, just two hours after Daddy got home.

The nap was great, and the kids and I were excited about having cake in the house, so we ate some more while we waited for Daddy to get up. Then we ate some more. and some more. And finally around 5pm, we had to stop because the cake was gone and Daddy still wasn't up. He finally stumbled down the stairs a little while later, asking what all the shouting was for (Jax had been busy, dropping the cake on the floor, popping Ryan's balloons, crying...). Again, 3:1.

Thankfully, Ryan's friends took her back to play at the mall, I got Jax off to bed early and I hit the sheets. Shawn and I hadn't really spoken since I told him he could get his own dinner, so by the time Ryan got back, I was more than happy to let her bunk with me. Big mistake.

It's spring in Austin, and allergies have hit, at least, I think it's allergies. You never know anymore. Anyway, she was up coughing all night long, and when I say all night long, I mean ALL NIGHT LONG. You know it's bad when finally, the nurturing mama in you takes her leave, and all you can do is put the kid in her own room to cough her lungs up so you can get an hour or two of sleep. Meds aren't working, btw -- any advice?

Sunday morning hit, and Shawn didn't have to work until 1:30, so I thought Ryan might want to stay home with him until I got back from teaching Sunday School. "No, I have to leave here at 11:15. I have an early meeting," was his reply. Silly mommy. Just because the schedule reads "1:30-close", I should know better than to assume that means he actually has to get there at that time. After all, on days when he opens, it reads, "5am-3pm", but everyone knows he doesn't get out of there until at least 5 pm. Like I said, I've just got to stop thinking I'll have help when he's home, or that he'll even be home at all...

I manage to get the kids dressed and in the car, I made pancakes for everyone, and we were even early, until I realized I'd dropped my keys under the car seat. Fed up with Shawn, my anger was getting the better of me as I dug around in the sticky nether-regions of the car floor, desperately groping for keys. Then Jax kicked me in the face and it was all over. The positivity had positively run out.

"I SWEAR TO GOD! WHY CAN'T WE EVER JUST HAVE A NORMAL MORNING? WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD? WHY CAN'T THINGS RUN SMOOTHLY? AND WHERE THE HELL ARE MY FREAKING KEYS???"

This is about the point when Shawn comes out, wondering why we haven't left yet. "I can't find my keys," I grumble. He then proceeds to ask me where I was when I last saw them.

"You know what?" I say, "this is not the time to start helping. Not when I'm now running late, the kids are crying, and I'm digging through stuck-on food and gum. Not the time Shawn!" At which point I saw my keys, grabbed them, and slammed the car door.

Wanna know his reply? "God, Amy. What's wrong with you? Chill out. I'm going back to bed."

Luckily the church is a ways away, so I had time to calm down, center myself and get ready to teach a room full of 3 yr old's all about God and love.

Class actually went really well, despite the fact that as I'm on the way to church, I get a voicemail from my co-teacher, my friend Angie, that she's sick and won't be able to be there. I am so grateful for that class - I really left feeling much better and renewed, which was needed since I was facing the rest of the day alone with the kids.

Naps were definitely on schedule, as was taking them to the gym so they could play and I could work out, except that when we woke up, Ry wasn't feeling well, so that plan was nixed. Instead, she wanted to play "Ariel". Do you have any idea how much work it takes to play "Ariel" with Ryan? First we have to gather all 11 of her Ariel dolls (please, people, no more Ariel dolls), then she has to tell me what to say, then I have to say it, then she has to say her part, then she has to undress the doll, then we have to sing a song, wash, rinse, repeat. It's exhausting.

But finally bedtime arrived and all went well. Until this morning when I discover that Jax barfed in his bed last night, and I have no idea why. He never woke me up, he has no fever and he's playing like nothing ever happened. I'd have already forgotten all about the puke if Ryan wasn't yelling, "Don't touch anything of mine, you are gross!" and"Get away from me Jaxson, you STINK!" Looks like it's bathtime.

Thanks for letting me vent, I feel much better.