Two posts in a day, that must be a record for me. I'm allowed, because I'm getting sick and feel yucky. Plus, I need a little stress relief since I don't feel well enough to go to the gym, James got called into work and I don't want to do anything except lay in bed. Except I can't lay in bed because I might fall asleep and wake up to discover the house leveled by the kids.
Yesterday was a wonderful, stressful and awful day all in one.
Do you have a child who is wonderfully imaginative and cuddly, but at many times feels like the naughtiest child on the planet who is going to single-handedly deliver you to your grave? My second child, Bugaboo is that very sort.
Yesterday we had to take Daddy his lunch, so we had to leave the house at 11:45. This was the conversation, during which the boys were watching tv. (My 7 year old son will be known as Professor now, because he loves to read and impart information to everyone, especially jokes.)
Mommy, at 11:10: "Boys, get your shoes and socks on, we're taking Daddy lunch."
Boys: No response.
Mommy, at 11:15: "Get your shoes and socks on NOW!"
Mommy, at 11:30: "TURN OFF THAT TV AND GET YOUR SHOES ON RIGHT NOW!!!!!!"
(Yes, I know I should have followed through the first time, but I'm not
Professor: "Ok Mom". Goes and gets shoes on now that the tv is off.
Mommy: "They're right there in the kitchen."
Professor: "I found your socks!"
Bugaboo: "I can't put my socks ooooooonnnnn. (To me) You dooo iiiiittt."
Mommy: "Yes you can. I'm not doing it. (I refuse to put socks on a five-almost 6- year old
when I'm trying to make fried egg sandwiches and looking for Princess's socks and
Bugaboo: "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T DO IT!!!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!"
Mommy: "I'm not doing it. Ask your brother for help, I have to find Princess's shoes."
(I say this knowing fully that he can put his own socks on.)
Bugaboo: "NO! YOU DO IT!!!!"
Mommy: "I am not doing it, and if you don't have those on in five minutes your feet will be
freezing and you'll be crying because you want your shoes on when we go to the car."
Bugaboo, after some more yelling and crying, decides to let Professor help him because he knows I don't give idle threats. He's gone to the car with very cold feet before. By the time I finished getting everything ready with the interruptions it was 12:00. We dropped off lunch for Daddy, spent 15 minutes with him, then off to Walmart where I needed to find underwear for Princess (she started potty-training on her own, number 2 is working great but number 1 will need a lot of work), and black pantyhose, a curling iron, hairspray and red lipstick for me for the Cantata that night, and various other items we needed. We took a while, and the boys were getting restless.
In the underwear department, Bugaboo noticed the different color bras that were displayed for young teens. Many of them had padding. Why on earth would a young teenage girl need 1/2 inch of stuffing in her bra?
Anyway, he said "Are those for boobies?" as he poked one. "Yes," I said, then "Stop that right now!" as he started rubbing them and looking at me, laughing. I have no idea how he would think that's funny, maybe just because it had something to do with private parts and modesty. At five years old, that kind of humor is typical, but I was worried that passersby might think I was raising a little pervert.
This entire time Princess was clutching her precious Sleeping Beauty underwear, and after I would turn around to look some more at all that was there (Why would girls need 30 different styles of underwear? With boys it's boxers or briefs!) the boys got even more bored. Professor was behaving himself, but Bugaboo decided to torment his sister by grabbing her pack of princess underwear while she'd scream. After a few episodes of dealing with that, we left for the cosmetic department.
I finally decided on a curling iron as the boys started to chase each other, then Professor picked up Bugaboo a couple of times as they both were laughing. I don't blame them for being bored our of their minds, but I told them to sit down on the bottom of the shelf.
It's funny the looks I got. Some are of the "I can't believe you allow your children to act like that" variety, the same looks that I'm sure I gave before I had sons. Either those people have never had boys, or they were the ones who had the rare boys who are quiet and calm and never do anything wrong. Those are VERY rare. Other people wore slightly annoyed expressions as they waited for me to herd the two boys out of the middle of the narrow aisle. And there were a couple of people who smiled at us and gave me the "I know exactly what you're going through" expression. Those were my favorite people in the world at that moment.
After that we headed for the checkout, where I realized after standing in line for a few minutes that I had forgotten the lipstick. Now, I could have gone without, but I almost never get to dress up anymore for anything other than church. I've always wanted to wear a very red lipstick, but I knew that it had to be a certain shade and that I could pull it off only with certain clothes, and my cantata outfit was perfect for it. So we got out of line and went back to the cosmetic department.
I took a while comparing all the different shades, but I decided quickly after Professor said, "Mommy, he's showing his butt!"
Yep, Bugaboo was facing me, had pulled his pants down over his rear, and was bending over and giggling while mooning the end of the aisle. Luckily no one was there to see it. I was torn between laughing and crying, and hissed "PULL YOUR PANTS UP RIGHT NOW!!!!
Thankfully he listened right away and pulled up his pants, but continued laughing while bouncing his butt up and down while bending over. I turned back to the lipstick and chose one quickly.
I got some compliments last night on how beautiful I looked, which made me feel pretty special. The lipstick, hairspray and curling iron paid off. What overweight woman doesn't like to hear that she's beautiful once in a while, even if a person or two sound quite surprised as they say it? James tells me all the time, which I love to hear, but I keep telling myself that he's not just saying it because he's my husband and he has to. I know he's saying what he really feels, and I'm a lucky woman.
However, you know what one of the most special things of all was?
James was struggling with Professor and Princess during the whole performance, which lasted about an hour. Not so with Bugaboo. He listened to everything, focused on each song! After we got home, he snuggled with me for a little while. I asked him if he liked the music and the expression on his little adorable face became both rapturous and dreamy as he smiled and nodded his head.
He's the one who most often makes me feel that I'm losing my mind, but he's also the one who I hear the most saying, "Mommy, I love you". In fact, I just got one of those and a hug from him.
I'll keep him....even though I just discovered that the coveted Sleeping Beauty underwear was a size 8 instead of size 4, and that he was just running around in his underwear with his pants on top of his head.