Kid does not want to get out of bed.
Kid gets pulled out of bed by me - and then noodle legs himself into the floor.
Kid gets picked back up by me AGAIN, landed on his feet, and gently nudged in the general direction of the kitchen. Noodle legs again.
My head explodes just a smidge, and I yell “Papaw YOU get him up, I need to get the OTHER kid ready for school” (Papaw’s response: to sit on his ass and yell “Kid? get outta bed!”)
I run and get Kid2 started on breakfast, snatch NoodleLegs up out of the floor and land a swat on his behind - which as usual results in an ear-piercing scream. You know the scream - the one that sounds like a serial killer just found a victim.
Said scream brings My Sainted Mama running “to the rescue”. She’s been in her room the entire time (as usual) and has absolutely no clue what’s been going on for the last 20 minutes. She picks him up, carries him into the kitchen, sits him down in his chair, and pours the milk over his cereal. And then stares at him in wide-eyed wonder as he noodlescootches his way out of the chair and onto the floor, leaving said cereal to turn to mush.
She put him back in his chair and tried to hand him his clothes - and of course he promptly dropped them on the floor.
She stared at him.
And stared.
And said “You’re going to miss school if you don’t get dressed!”
And I said “That’s the general idea, Sainted Mama o Mine. He DOES NOT WANT TO GO.”
I picked the pants up and put them on him. I pulled the shirt on over his head and slid his noodlearms through the sleeves. The lightbulb finally, blessedly flickered on in Mama’s head and she went to retrieve his shoes so I could finish putting the lunches in boxes and doublecheck backpacks.
~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the school year - mornings exactly like this one - are being looked at with an extreme distaste. They like being with the kids in their classes (up to a point). The homework is for the most part busywork - practice on skills they’ve achieved proficiency in. They have been out of school (sick) almost as much as they’ve been there.
I want to let them go back to homeschooling. I just don’t know how we can achieve that without my head exploding.
I was up late last night after work making sure that bags were packed and clothes were out. It took me an obscene amount of time to pick out the “right” outfits for their First Day of School. (Yes, there was weeping.)
At the breakfast table, the boys decided they wanted to bring their lunch (FailWhale again for Teh Mommeh - no juice boxes in the house.) so I got to rush around making sandwiches and making sure the boys names were on their lunchboxes.
As you would expect on the Very First Day of School, the traffic line was obscene. The boys went to their classes just fine, and I sat down for Kindergarden Orientation with Joe’s teacher. Unfortunately, Joe did NOT want to leave - and asked if we were going to get Dan out of his class too. (No, baby - Dan has to stay the whole day. It’s just you and me going home.)
Now he’s wandering around the house bored and trying to find something to do, and I’m debating taking a nap. And halfway expecting the phone to ring aaaany minute now, with a polite teacher on the other end asking me to come get my child.
My calculator tells me that I get to spend $51,200 today. I also realized that I need to make a list of things already “purchased” so I don’t forget something - like I already did 
The kids are getting new clothes - $6000 between the three of them.
A new van for me would indeed be pleasant, but I want to go hybrid. Finding a hybrid vehicle that feels like “me” and has enough seating for my family + guests (You know The Teen has to have a friend come with us on trips - it helps to provide entertainment) is proving to be a quite ardurous task. Everyone has a minivan prototype in development, and I’m just not really a SUV kind of girl. But I’m stuck, given the fact that there’s no such thing as a sedan that will seat 6 or 7 comfortably. So? I’ll have to stick with what’s available and efficient.
According to FuelEconomy.gov, the most energy efficient minivan is the Mazda 5. It seats six, and after using the “Build My Mazda” menu to select options, the Mazda5 for my family has an MSRP of $24,500.
The remaining $20,700 is going to pay for a nanny/housekeeper for a year (More housekeeping than nannying).
I’m participating in The Millionaire Mommy Next Door’s abundant life spending spree
Clothes for me, complete with tailoring. And to complete the fantasy, I’ve put all my measurements into the Land’s End “My Virtual Model” to see what would happen when I tried on jeans. Unfortunately (?) I haven’t been able to reproduce my real-life fitting woes on it - it doesn’t matter what size I select, they all look the same.
I’m participating in The Millionaire Mommy Next Door’s abundant life spending spree
30 days of spending
You sure have come a long way in the last few years, huh? Listen, thanks for not exploding when my blood pressure took off. Hell, thanks for not exploding during that last month of pregnancy. It really means a lot to me that you were able to keep it together through all that neglect. And I know, I know - I need to start taking vitamins again. But can I have props for at least remembering to take our daily meds?
I want you to know that I really don’t expect you to look a certain way anymore (although I really wish that I had THIS attitude back when a quarter could bounce off our ass and make change). I know that the off-the-shelf clothes don’t really fit properly, and I’m sorry about that. Clothing manufacturers have to hit a sort of size range, and well….with a waist that is 7 inches smaller than your hips, nothing is really going to really work.
The way I see it, there are only a few things we need to work on. That whole not-sleeping thing we’ve got going on? Yeah, we need to fix that the rest of the way. It’s time to wrap the brain around a bathing suit - we promised the kids we’d go to the beach this year. And really, truly - it’ll be OK if we leave the majority of the books in the van instead of carrying them around all.day.long. Also? How about if we work on that whole “priorities” thing? You know - schoolwork THEN the google reader.
One last thing: You were a huge asshole when you were fourteen. Your daughter is a huge asshole now that she’s fourteen. You got over it (for the most part), so will she. A panic attack every time she pitches a fit really is overkill.
This is my contribution to BlogHer’s Letter to my Body campaign.
Lorelle issued a Blog Challenge: Blog About Being Big - aka Successful. Specifically, to write about a moment when I felt “big”, or to write “what it would look like if I were big”.
When I first read her post yesterday, I was all prepared to pick and choose between conquering anxiety attacks, restarting college as an adult, being a single mom to three, writing this blog, being promoted at work, losing weight, and teaching computer skills classes. Dating again (though I daresay that hasn’t been as successful as I’d like). All perfectly good examples of “when I felt big”.
Then I went to look at apartments with The Teen ™ and got the great joy of hearing about how I need a new vehicle (I really do), she needs new clothes (what teen doesn’t?), and I need to find her a job so she can start saving up for her own car (she can find her own damn job). And how she’s going to live her life differently so she doesn’t have to live the way I do. In my daughter’s eyes, I’m a hard-done-by loser. (She wouldn’t necessarily use the word “loser” though).
After that wonderfully uplifting discussion, I got to come home and listen to My Sainted Mother. Why in the WORLD would I want to live in an apartment when I can live in her Doublewide Paradise.
(Yes, I’m serious.)
And then I felt really really small and alone. And the see-saw started. Quitting school would meet my daughter’s immediate need for a vehicle “she can be seen in” and a house “she can invite people to”. Oh, and we can’t forget “shopping at the Mall!” Quitting school is not an option; I categorically refuse to be a retail and/or pink-collar zombie again. I don’t want to live with my parents anymore, but if I moved out I would have to add regular, frequent visits to check up on them. How would we handle scheduling? We, hell. How am *I* supposed to fit all that in?
And yet, right now, I feel more BIG than I ever have before. School is challenging and wonderful, work is routine but enjoyable. The Folks ™ and I have established a mostly-functional relationship. My children are happy and healthy (shallow teen-living aside). Writing is only more difficult because I’m waiting for that whole “time to write” thing to resolve itself.
What would it look like if I were BIG? Exactly the same as it does now, only with a partner and a house with in-law quarters 1/2 acre away. Oh, and I’d be an at-home mom again.
