Maybe it’s the moon?


There is just something going on this week. It is just the week from Hell. And yes, it’s only mid-day Wednesday.

I don’t know what it is, but the kids are all off the chain this week. I run a co-op playgroup at one of the prestigious colleges here in The North (don’t get excited, I don’t get paid and I wasn’t vetted for the job or anything), and it was a very small showing this week. However, the handful of kids and parents who came this week felt totally out of control! Lots of screaming and chaos. Lots of toy throwing. Lots of running around instead of singing during circle time. It was like whoa. And don’t get me started about how Craft Mom didn’t show up and didn’t bother to tell anyone. The only good news was that the super judgmental nanny who has decided that she hates me and has a gnarly attitude wasn’t in this week.  The rest of the bad news was there were two new families that came for a try-out session on Monday. One was great, the other, not so much. Both, however, were like “this is going to be a great fit. We really want to join!” …If you are a mom who watches your kid not play with other kids and pretty much scream through all of the activities from craft to circle to playtime, how are you going to decide that this is the best activity for your child? Especially when it put off all of the other children? I know that we are all looking for something to do with our children, but come on.

I think that both of my sons are having growth spurts. Lots of hiccups, big appetites, bigger attitudes, tantrums on the train, and the nap schedule is all sorts of off. I have been managing the best I can, and have actually been delighted and diligent about putting them down for a nap a good half-hour early. The sporadic needs and spontaneous tantrums are not conducive to a productive day around the house. Especially because Ursa Minor’s solution to all the world’s problems is to be held by mommy. It’s mighty hard to get dinner rolling one-handed. It’s slightly easier when he’s in the Moby Wrap (thank you, Jesus, for Moby Wrap), but then it’s like cooking while pregnant all over again (with the added fear of anything splashing on or hitting precious baby’s head).

By the way, big thanks to the lovely little old ladies on the train who decided to give me disapproving stares as I tried to soothe my angry toddler on the train on Monday. You were totally helpful, especially with making me comfortable in my own skin. That was really awesome of you. I hope those future hip replacements or whatever little old ladies need in life really work out for you.

On Monday night, The Husband’s best friend came over after flying into town just back from his 5 week pan-Asian vacation. Ah, life with no kids, no spouse and a ridiculously fat paycheck. What do you serve a man who has just spent 5 weeks in Asia, you ask? Why, fajitas and rice and beans and fried plantains, of course! So I spend my evening juggling 2 kids and making this meal and what do I hear when our good friend hits the house? “Don’t be offended if I don’t eat much. I had a huge lunch at [local taco franchise] and I’m still kinda full.” ………….not offended at all, bro. Not offended at all…….. So the kids didn’t eat until 7 on Monday night, we didn’t start the bath process until 8. Then Best Friend stayed until 10. If that man wasn’t the godfather of Ursa Minor, I swear I would have done something semi-violent toward his person.

Ursa Major has learned the new game of “I make a request and mommy goes and gets it. But then when she gets it, I decide I don’t want it.” It’s a cool game. Generally, it’s something easy, like water in a sippy cup. Sometimes, it’s really annoying, like a half-peeled banana that suddenly he doesn’t want and I have to scramble to preserve for the next meal. Or a bowl of cheerios, which he really just wants to deposit all over the floor. The best part about the cheerios is, when I try to feed them to Ursa Minor, all of a sudden he is ravenously hungry and must eat all of the cheerios right now. Charming.

And did I mention my in-laws are driving up and occupying my life on Saturday evening and Sunday afternoon? That means the house needs to be clean.

Is the house clean?

Yeah no.

And every time I make a little progress on the house, one of the Ursa brothers puts something on my floor or puts a toy somewhere or hits the other brother and causes much crying and gnashing of teeth.

I smothered my sorrows with a philly cheesesteak and fries for lunch, negating all of the good work with Zumba that I’ve been doing for the last few weeks. But it felt good, if temporary, and that’s what matters.

And now, instead mopping bathroom floors like a good and diligent mom, I’m going to get in bed with my book. And hopefully fall asleep and get a nap in myself!


7 Comments Add yours

  1. amberperea says:

    I love the stares I get when my son is having a tantrum in public! Thanks guys, I didn’t feel bad enough, please scoff louder and roll your eyes more. It’s not like we are in a movie theatre, it’s the grocery store lol. 🙂

  2. K.C. Wise says:

    Isn’t it so awful? The thing that makes me most mad is that you KNOW that there are other moms who are doing the staring too. And those little old ladies? You know they’ve got kids and grandkids! It’s like they suddenly forget! I get that we’re in close quarters and the noise is deafening, but you totally see me working to try to soothe him! I just love how that seems to be the only time that people aren’t staring at the floor like they usually do.

    1. amberperea says:

      I actually wrote a whole blog post about it when a woman at the grocery store turned to her perfectly behaved son sitting in the basket and very loudly remarked, “See so-and-so THAT is how we do not act in public.”. I almost died! But what can you do besides grit your teeth and pretend you don’t see/hear it?

  3. Love it, you’re hilarious!

    1. K.C. Wise says:

      Haha, thanks. It wasn’t funny experiencing, but it’s nice to write it down and feel better about it. 🙂

  4. Oh the little old ladies at the grocery store make me angry. “You really shouldn’t walk that far away from the cart when your baby is in it” or “It’s windy out there, where is his coat?” When I’m an old lady, I’m going to say, “Good for you young Mom for getting dressed and dealing with that crazy toddler in public. Can I pay for your groceries?” And, on another note, my Mom always blames everything on the moon. She’s usually right.

  5. K.C. Wise says:

    Gosh, how can I meet a little old lady who is going to pay for my groceries?? I’d really, really like that! I don’t know what’s up with little old ladies…I don’t know why they are so angry. I love how out of one side of their mouth, they are like “you moms have it so easy these days” but then on the other side of their mouth, they’ve got some sort of judgement. Not a good look.

    Anyway, blaming the moon is fun and easy. So far away, can’t defend itself… mystical powers or werewolves and waves… LOVED your post today on playrooms, by the way! Totally giggled thinking about the migration of toys from one room to another…

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.