Hump Day? I Think You Mean Bump Day!

I hate Wednesdays with a passion.  I was talking to a friend yesterday morning and I mentioned how much I hate Wednesdays and she said incredulously, "More than Mondays??"

Yes.  I am so burnt out by Wednesday morning that I have a hard time getting myself out of bed and making sure The Curly Girlies are up.  I don't want to get breakfast and I don't want to pack lunches.  Because of this I move so much more slowly than any other day.

We are always late out the door on Wednesday mornings.  I like to leave our house between 7:35 and 7:45, definitely no later than the latter, but on Wednesdays we tend not to walk out the door until at least 7:50.  I always know this will be the case, but every time I get stressed.

This week is the Book Fair!  I adore the Book Fair.  It is my most favorite event our school has.  I volunteer every day because it makes me happy.  Yesterday, I was planning on being in early to help with Make Ups (we open early to allow the children who've gone with their classes but didn't have money then to come buy what they want).  We pulled up to the school at 7:55, just as the warning bell rang.  I parked on the swale, opened my door and said, "Let's go, go go!  Come on!  Move it!"  The girls jumped out of the car with backpacks and B and M both cried out at the same time, "My lunchbox!  Oh no!"

"Oh well," I said to them, not so sympathetically.  "I don't have time to run home to get it right now."

"What am I supposed to do for lunch?," whined B.  "You said you didn't want us to buy!"

"I will go home in a little bit and bring back your lunchbox before you go to lunch, OK?  It's not really my responsibility."

We started to walk to the driveway to cross and I said, "Oh no!  My badge!" (and you wonder where my darlings get it from! Ha!).  I ran back to my car and grabbed my volunteer badge.

"Come on!," I said, maybe a little too excitedly.  "We have to go!"

I grabbed L's hand and ushered the girls across the driveway.

"You know you can't park there, don't you?," someone from across the street said.

I had no idea who they were talking to, so I continued walking.

"Excuse me!  Ma'am!  You know you can't park there, right?"

I looked across and saw the police officer who stands in that spot every morning pointing to my car.

"Uh?  No.  I didn't," I said, followed by a thought bubble above my head that read, "Obviously.  If I knew that I wouldn't have parked there."

"There's a sign right there that says 'No Standing'," she informed me in a rude tone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!," I apologized.  "I didn't see the sign!"

"Well, you can't park there.  That's why there's a sign," she so kindly pointed out.

I turned to the girls, who were all standing there like deer in the headlights and said, "Go!  Go to class.  I have to move my car.  Be spectacular! (I tell them that every morning)"

I turned and walked back to my car (my hands were full, by the way, with cookies, my badge, my bag and my keys) and the thought bubble above my head read, "Really, lady?  You couldn't have told me that the first time you saw me getting out of car?  What about the time you saw me running back to it?  Or before I crossed the driveway?"

I managed to find another space (even better than before!) and ran in to the office, juggling everything.  I made it to the media center a few minutes after 8 and managed to pull myself together.  After all that. no one even came until 8:45.

I wasn't disappointed though.  My terrible Wednesday dissipated as soon as I saw my friends.  See, one of the reasons I love the book fair so much (aside from all of the wonderful books) is I get to be with my wonderful friends.  We all lead such busy lives what with kids, husbands and PTO that we hardly get to spend nonPTO time together.  It was such a breather to be able to sit and just chat about everything for 45 minutes.

Bump Day ended pretty much as it started, as a whirlwind of running.  I know Wednesdays will always be my stinky days (for now) so I'm going to come up with a way to make them more palatable for myself.  I haven't figured out what that will be yet, but I'm sure it'll be something good.  Then perhaps Bump Day can go back to being Hump Day.

On a side note:  I managed to get B's and M's lunches to them with just seconds to spare before B's lunch.  Just a typical Wednesday, right?

Little Frustrations. . .

Today started out great and nearly ended on a very sour note. Thankfully, I managed to pull out my silliness and turned things around.

There was no school today, which made for a very lax day. Things were going swimmingly until about 4. That is definitely my witching hour. If I'm going to lose my patience, it'll happen between the hour of 4-5 and then, after 5, I'm back to my sweet self.

I was in the process of making cookies (low fat chocolate chip cookies, which I've decided might be good for a low fat cookie, but my feeling is: if you're going to make cookies, full fat is the way to go, taste wise), and each of The Curly Girlies needed something, at the same time.

"Can I have a junk snack?," B pleaded. "See, I ate this teensy bit of pomegranate."

"I'm thirsty!," whined L, apparently incapable of getting a cup and water from the fridge.

"Aw. . . B went to Build-A-Bear too?," M whined, disappointedly.

{Side Note: M spent the day with my Mom, Bubbie, today just like B did last week. Bubbie took her to Build-A-Bear and I took B there because today was "B Appreciation Day". M had hers last week and I offered Build-A-Bear to her as well, but she declined.}

I replied to each of them and was met with whines.

"Why?? I ate something healthy!!!," whined B.

"I can't do it," chimed in L.

"It's not fair! Now she has two!!," added in M.

I took lots of deep breaths and reminded myself that it's nearly been 1 full year. I am NOT blowing this now.

After my cookies were in the oven, I reminded B that she's on kitchen this week, thus she needed to unload the dishwasher. Can you guess her reaction?  Yup, more whines.

When it was time to leave for karate, M remembered she'd forgotten her book in her room. 

"Tough," I said, as she marched out the door.

I was standing near the door, alarm beeping it's countdown until the dreaded blare of the sirens, and rifling around in my bag (AKA: The Blackhole) for my house keys. I couldn't find them! 

"We can't leave until I find my keys!," I called to the girls.

"Great!," cried M, running back for her book.

Just as she stepped through the front door, I found them.

"M, we have to go!," I said, rather excitedly.

She yelled at me! I'm not sure what she said, but it was definitely yelling. 

I very nearly yelled back. Just as I started to open my mouth, I thought, "So this is how it ends?"

I took a great big deep breath and said evenly, "Don't you ever speak to me like that again."

We walked out to the car (The Doctor's new-fangled contraption that unlocks when you touch the handle). It took a few good minutes to get into the car, because I couldn't get the doors to unlock.

After digging around for the car keys,unlocking the car the old fashioned way and getting L buckled in, we were on our way- 10 minutes late.

We pulled in to the parking lot, I threw L's gi and belt on her and told M to walk her in.

I pushed the button to lock the doors and B said, from her side of the car, "I wonder why the doors won't lock?"

I tried unlocking them again and I said, "I wonder why I can't get them to unlock?"

While I was struggling, B came over to me.

"Uh, Mommy? You keep locking them."

"What? No, I'm not. I'm pushing the button."

She grabbed the handle and I heard a click.

I looked at her and said, "You mean, I've been doing it wrong all day?"

"Yes!," she laughed gleefully. 

So, all of this to get to the point. 

On the way to karate, the girls were chatting and I though, "Wow. No matter how frustrated I get with them, I do love them tremendously. At the end of the day, I'd have the same stressful day again, just because it means I have them."

That being said, each of them came up to me wanting to converse, or asking for something while I was writing this, and at a few times, I felt my blood pressure rise, but then I remembered: The blog will always be here (I may not always write, but it'll still be here), but my Curly Girlies may not always want to sit and chat about the book they're reading or the sticker they received for doing a great job in class.  At the end of the day, that's not so frustrating after all. 

The Rudeness of Others

If you have more than one child you've heard the comments from perfect strangers in stores:

"Are they all yours?"

"Are you going to try for the {opposite sex}?"

"Oh, you poor thing!"

"My, you certainly have your hands full!"

Not one of these could even be construed as constructive.  None of these convey the message of, "Wow Mama!  You are doing a great job!"  In fact, if anything, these just dig at an already insecure mother (because let's face it, every Mom has her own insecurities).

After reading a post on Facebook about hideous things Moms of more than 1 child hear, I remembered some doozies I've heard.

One time last year I was in the grocery store with B, M, L and my friend's twin daughters, Darlin' and Lovey.  5 girls who were hyper and excited to be with each other and not very calm or quiet.  As I was picking out my plums, an older lady came up to me and asked incredulously, "Are they all yours?"

"Oh, no," I replied, with a smile.  "Only 3 are mine."

"Oh, thank G-D," Ms. Busybody replied, with a sigh of relief.  She quickly retreated before I could point out that I'd rather have 5 daughters than mush for brains.

Darlin' was standing with me her mouth dropped open. "Wow!," she exclaimed.  "That was beyond rude!"

"Yes, it was," I acknowledged. "But sadly, I'm used to it by now."

Since then, when I'm out with all 5 girls, I don't correct people when they assume they are mine.  I have decided that when Darlin' and Lovey are in my care, they are just as much mine as B. M and L are.  Plus, there is something fun about seeing the glint of awe (or is it horror?) when people see me wrangling all 5 of them.

What gives someone the right to comment on someone else's life choices?  Why is it that when people see a woman in a store with a gaggle of children, or even just 2 children close in age, they feel like they have an automatic right to comment?

The worst is when the question, "All girls??  So, are you going to try for the boy?" is asked in front of my girls.  It poses the thought that perhaps my daughters are not enough.  Let me tell you, they are plenty!  I'll never forget when another mother came up to me (in the same grocery store, no less) and said, "All girls??  I feel so bad for you.  I have one daughter and I'd kill myself if I had more like her."  Her daughter piped up with, "Gee, thanks Mom" and walked away.

Is there an unwritten rule that people can say whatever pops into their head when they see something they can't understand or don't agree with?

I'm kind enough not to comment on your hair rollers or outfit of choice.  I don't just go up to someone who is scantily clad and say, "Dear, you look chilly.  Why don't you throw on a jacket to cover up a bit?"

How much nicer would it be if instead of spouting of critiques over another mother's lifestyle choices, the would be critics said, "Mama, you are doing a fine job!" or "3 girls!  How blessed you are!"  I promised myself a while ago that when I'm the woman shuffling about the store with my hair in rollers and wearing a housedress, I'll smile at the Mom with 5 girls and say, "Oh, honey. . . Watching you brings back such memories.  You are so incredibly blessed and your daughters are lucky to have you."