After a non-stop cry fest from a fussy daycare baby, my tweeny-bopper rushed in the house and up to her room before I could even say hello. The baby had finally succumbed to napping just before she arrived. She emerged from the staircase sobbing and hysterical. She had left her gerbil in his ball all day. He chewed his way out and was loose in her room. Somewhere.
During all of this, our teen was texting form school to say that his trainer wouldn't let him practice but he needed me to get him out of just staying. Whatever. Come home. What's the injury? Upper back muscles spasming and the trainer put ice on and tried to stretch it. WHAT? Ok. Der...sure - lets cool those muscles down before we stretch them. Uh-huh.
Of course he had ulterior motives for wanting to come home. He's been wanting to buy a shotgun - much to our disapproval. And...now that he just got paid for detassling he has the money and the pawn shop is only open til 6. Can't go tomorrow because of the football game, and on Saturday we are moving my Mom.
...okay here comes the panic attack again...
Presently, my 1st grader chooses to have the daily homework meltdown and proceeds to cry, scream and kick. I calmly put her in time-out until she is ready to do her homework and get to have a lovely lecture with my teen. I am told how terrible I am that I am more interested in triathlon than hunting and fishing. Susan proceeds to make a sound like a walrus and our 4 year old decides to do ninja moves off of the foot stool in front of the TV (so much cooler when it's off - you can see yourself!)
As our teen son is effectually being as spoiled as can be, I give the writhing 1st grader the requisite warnings with regard to the skin on her behind. Cam continues to emulate Bruce Lee. David has left to get his wheel at the bike shop and has taken my babysitting money (ie. our grocery money for the week) because he's not sure how much the wheel repair will cost.
After making Liam mad enough to retreat and taking poor little Susan in the bedroom for a little swat (don't worry, Mommy doesn't spank mad and I don't spank hard), my husband came home to so much chaos that I'm just glad that he didn't turn around and leave. I finished dinner and considered going to a bar and doing shots of Southern Comfort, but instead took my one day only coupons to Hy-Vee. They do sell liquor.
I had to stop in the dairy aisle because I couldn't breathe. My chest was so tight and I couldn't swallow. I thought I might have to sit down right there in the yogurt. I was a little afraid I was going to have a heart attack! I made it to the checkout, but nearly slapped TWO men that cut in front of me in the express lane. Instead of tapping me on the shoulder to alert me it was my turn, they just plowed ahead. Yep, that's right - get yours!! Don't bother being kind or noticing that I look like Medusa on crack with 2 gallons of milk, 2 flats of water and a bag of peanut butter cups...NO, just think to yourself, I better get my stuff checked out first. I better not see you in the parking lot, sir.
To top this lovely evening off - I got home and sat down with what was left of what I had made for dinner, and our teen proceeded to sit and lecture me again. He wanted me to "talk about my day." I warned him. He decided to do all the talking for us. He said he feels like no one supports him at school or at home in anything he ever does. That he does everything all alone.
This is where the universe imploded and my sanity had an out of body experience..
Anyone with a teenager knows the time, money and heart that goes into raising one. Their commitments are our commitments. The part time job costs you more money and time in the process. The sports commitments, the social issues, the on and on and on...
My filter dissolved into a million pieces, my poor grandmother rolled over in her grave and my Pastor was likely suddenly convicted to pray for me. I lost my marbles. I told my son where to go and used an expletive from The Vault. Twice.
Things did not go well for me this evening. My sweet husband took the day off tomorrow, though. He has encouraged me to consider it my day off as well. He offered to take the kids to school and to care for our 4 year old and the one little (fussy today but probably not for HIM tomorrow) 6 month old we have tomorrow.
If I don't suffer from a brain aneurysm in the meantime, it will be a nice day.