Today was insanely stressful for no goddamn good reason.
Chris went to a football game so I was on my own with the kids. Which is fine given that they are my children. It's just that we are used to doing things as a family on the weekends which gives us a parent to child ration of 2:3, or dividing up, giving us a parent to child ration of 1:1 and 1:2.
But today was 1:3. Which becomes a problem when you organize the day as if you are at a more favorable ratio.
This morning, I packed everybody in the car and we went to the Children's Museum. Sam haaaaaaates the Children's Museum. Life is sooooooo booooring.
We'd been there for about 20 minutes when I suddenly remembered that Lilly had a class at Little Gym. Those classes are about a million dollars per session, so the thought of missing one was upsetting. It was 11:30. I knew another class started at 11:45. We were about 15 minutes away. This could work.
So I called the Little Gym, got the go-ahead to attend the different class, and then gathered the children.
"Mooooooom. I don't waaaant to leave," says Sam.
Oh for Pete's sake. I told them we could come back after the class.
Look, I had to say something to get them out of there, and kids have the memory span of goldfish. It's not like they would actually want to come back.
That right there is what you call "foreshadowing," my friends.
Also, I don't know if you noticed, but that timeline from a few paragraphs up? Do you see where I went wrong there? I estimated the time as if we were ALREADY IN THE CAR. By the time we got to the car, it was 11:41. Also, who the hell am I kidding? The Little Gym is 20 minutes away. Always has been, always will be. WHY do I continue to believe I can get there in 15 minutes?
So I'm driving and I'm all hyperventilating about being late and some part of my head is saying, "Hey, calm down. We're talking about a gymnastics class for three year olds. It is not a big deal."
But my heart was saying "IRRESPONSIBLE!!"
So we went, and got back in the car to go home and OF COURSE the children remember my earlier statement (lets not call it a promise) about going back to the Children's Museum.
I look at the clock. It is about 1:00, and we have to be at a party at 3:30. Plenty of time to stop back at the Children's Museum for a bit and then get home, eat lunch, take baths, get dressed and get to the Christmas party.
WHAT KIND OF CRACK WAS I SMOKING?
Bathing three kids by yourself is a weird thing. They can't share a bath because they splash and someone will inevitably get pushed into the faucet.
But if you want the whole process to take less than a million hours, you have to be simultaneously washing a child and getting the last child dressed. Which is hard when you are only one person.
Then I had to get myself dressed, and at this point, the stress level had reached Red Alert, so I put a soothing song on to play. Which is how I know that the kids gave me exactly 2 minutes and 48 seconds before they started screaming.
It was an emergency. Like someone picked up an abandoned toy to play with that did not, historically belong to them.
When we finally got going we were soooo late. So of course I got lost many times, many ways. Merry Christmas, to you.
The party was fun, but Lilly started begging to leave about 45 minutes before we actually did. She was nearly hysterical by the time we started the drive home.
And of course I was driving home, in the dark, alone with three children, and my phone died.
And Lilly's in the back seat:
"MOM. Why is it DARK. MOM. Why aren't we HOME? MOM. Why are we out so late? MOM. I'm so TIRED. MOM. Why did you DO this? Where is DADDY? I miss DADDY. MOM. It is so DARK. I'm SCARED. MOM. Can I eat my treats? MOM! You NEVER let me eat my treats. Do we have to go to BED? We already went to bed LAST YEAR."
But, as a parent, I'm not even mad at today. Because nobody threw up.