Friday, March 18, 2011

I Don't Give A Fig. Yes, It's Been *That* Kind of Day

This week something to happened to Kate and Lydia.  Maybe it was due to a chronic lack of sleep.  Or the the cold, nasty weather making a return visit.  Or kids making bad choices at school and the hit our parenting self-esteem takes as a result.  Maybe it was having to do taxes.  Maybe it was discovering the laundry that was supposed to be clean had recently been peed on by a surly, geriatric cat. 

Maybe it was the day the dishwasher had to be loaded and unloaded four times and no one would help. Or the fact that mommy ran a fever and after nursing other people for two solid months, nobody brought her any soup or let her sit on the couch under a blanket for more than three minutes.

Maybe it was turning on the TV and seeing that the world has gone completely topsy turvy and its awful and scary and crazy as hell and we're not even talking about Mr. Tiger Blood.
Or it might have been the steaming pile of poo we found on the floor.  Or the nice puddle of warm we stepped in. The point is, it is all too much.  The WTF moments have strung together into one giant F week and we have officially lost the ability to deal with it. 

That became evident when the following text exchange took place:

Kate: I think I'm about to lose my mind.
Lydia: I think I'm going to run away from home.
Kate: If you run away from home, you're taking me with you.
Lydia: If I bring you, who will take care of the children?
Kate: Good point. Maybe we can find a kennel?
Lydia: I don't even care anymore. Too tired.
Kate: Dishes go INSIDE the dishwasher. Why is that hard?
Lydia: I threw some dishes out this morning. They needed scrubbing.
Kate: I know. I had a "f*ck it" moment right after lunch.
Lydia: Whatevs. My f*ck it meter is broken and I don't give a fig.

Don't believe us? This is Lydia's meter and its clearly broken.  She hit it with a bat.

We know you want to judge us.  It's OK. Now that the moment has passed, we want to judge us too.  But everyone has days when they just can't deal and they're like: I. AM. SO. DONE. Then you (hopefully) start to feel better and you get your mojo back.  But for that hour or day or week when your eff it all meter is out of whack, it's not that fun.  And it's not that fun to be around.

Oh dear.  Please tell us this is not another one of those times when we think other people are going to be all nodding and like "I totally get it" when in fact they're trying not to make eye contact with us because we're either scaring them or else they're rolling their eyes at our ridiculous self-indulgence. 

No. Forget it.  Everyone who's honest knows there are moments like that. We all have them.  Anyone who says differently is a being a Paltrow.  Here are some examples of  when you know you've lost the ability to give a fig.  Perhaps you'll see yourself in one of these moments and feel a little better that there are others, like us, far more idiotic than you.
  • I asked my husband the last time either of us changed baby's diaper.  He was like: "Never." Then we just stared at the TV.
  • After sweeping, vacuuming and mopping the kitchen, I sat down to have a quick rest.  Then the baby dumped an entire brand new box Honey Nut Cheerios all over the floor.  I watched the rest of The Real Housewives before I did squat about it.  Because Honey Nut Cheerios is a healthy snack. 
  • The children thought it would be fun to play a game they like to call Land Diving, which involves rolling down the muddy hills in their school clothes. My backyard now looks like Woodstock.
  • I got out my favorite spring time shoes and discovered that my feet have grown just enough during my last pregnancy that now the shoes have to be retired. Forever. Lemme get this straight - my brain shrinks, but my feet grow? Isn't it not enough that my boobs elongate?
  • I used a can of condensed milk instead of evaporated milk in my homemade Macaroni 'n' Cheese. Now I have to call Dominos.
  • I caught one of the kids at the kitchen table playing with a "fossil" from the backyard. It was a petrified dog turd.
  • One of my kids smacked the other one. The offended child came up to tell me all about it. I said, "Go downstairs and tell your brother that Mommy said to hit you again."
    Yes. It was Mini.
  • I finally nursed the kids back to health. No one was any longer sneezing, dripping, coughing, hacking, infected or feverish. Then my son vomited all over his sister.
  • I came out of the bathroom to hear my youngest child singing "Yummy cheese! Yummy cheese!" She'd taken four wedges of spreadable Laughing Cow cheese and was using it as play dough.  I just raised one eyebrow and was like: "Just make sure you eat it all."
    •  I gave up drinking for Lent. A better idea would have been to just stab myself in the neck.
      (c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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