Manic Mondays & Friday Night Lights...

This has been quite the week. And depending on who you are (or what kind of calendar you have) weeks could start on Sunday or Monday. I know my calendar starts on Sunday, but I've never been down with that. Monday is definitely the start of the week. And I don't usually mind Mondays, because well, I work at home so there's no "going back to work" to complain about, I never freakin left. And Monday is pretty much like every other day except that it's the day that I look at my calendar and see what's on it for the rest of the week and think "crap, I don't want to do that stuff".

But this Monday, I had to drive to Springfield, which is two hours from my house. We'd had CJ home over the weekend and I had to take him back to school. I begged Sean to come with me because I hate taking him back alone, because I get sad and cry unless I have someone to distract me. So...Monday morning I'm running around trying to get all of the stuff he got for his birthday separated, marked with his name and inventoried. (We keep some stuff at home and some stuff goes to his school with him). This takes forever, because both my mom & I go totally overboard with the birthday gifts. I realize twenty minutes before I want to leave the house that Sean is nowhere to be seen.

me: Is Sean up yet?
My hubby: Haven't seen him. (this is very odd, he's usually up by now)
me: will you go wake him?
My hubby: okay.

So I proceed to trying to finish getting around. Ten minutes later, still no sign of my youngest son.

me: will you please go make sure he's up? I have ten minutes til I need to leave.
my hubby: sure.

He walks out of the room. I (erroneously, it turns out) assume he's gone downstairs. I walk into the hall to go hang up my towel in the bathroom and my hubby is standing in the living room watching TV.

me: so did you make sure he was up?
my hubby: I'm on my way.
me: for the love of Pete! why did making sure he was up require a detour into the living room to watch TV?! you're a freakin addict dude. we have to get you some help.

Now, I'm frankly a little irritated (okay okay, irate) because nothing is going as planned! I'm also a teensy bit emotional because while Sunday and having my whole clan here for bdays was awesome, everyone leaving has left me a little down. Finally we manage to get out of the door and on the road. Sean starts giving me a hard time. You know, in the way that only a very smart but majorly sarcastic 16 year old boy can. I threaten to leave him at the gas station and call his father to come pick him up. (Unfortunately he knows I won't really do this because um, well that's just crazy). I pump gas, grab sodas, and lottery tickets (of course). The gas station attendant (who's nearly always cheerful) is obviously having a bad day too. I offer to let her drive to Springfield while I stay there and work but it's a no go.

I get out to the car and discover that the travel cup I brought for CJ has a hole in it. Fabulous. So I have to give him the bottle of soda (with a very stern admonishment that if he decides to dump it on the floor in the back of the car I will probably lose it. Yes, this has happened before, hence the travel cup.) We actually make it to Springfield without too much else going wrong. But as we walk into CJ's school it suddenly dawns on me that I have completely forgotten to bring his medicine back. Ack!!! This is a major blunder. I mean of monstrous proportion. He has to have his meds. And it's like a full months worth. Sh*t! So I tell them that I will go home and get them and bring them back. I will have to take them to his group home as it will be four hours from now before I get back. This is beyond stupid on my part. I can even picture his meds, sitting in their brown paper bag beside the bookcase in the family room, right beside where his suitcase was. In my defense, I usually manage to cram them into his suitcase to take them back, but this time it was too full of bday loot.

As we walk out of the building, my son starts giving me crap again. I warn him that I'm very near tears and if he doesn't stop, I'm going to be sobbing soon and he does NOT want to deal with that. I'm trying to hold off til I'm home tonight. He says he gives me less then an hour before the tears set in. Jackass. We run into mcd's (keeping it young folks, keeping it young) potty, grab some food and hit the road. I call my hubby to tell him about my incredible blunder. He offers to do the return trip for me, but then we both realize that he can't because he & Sean have a scout meeting. So, not only do I have to drive all the way home, pick up the meds, and drive all the way back and then home again, I have to do it alone. I start crying. My son says, cheer up lets listen to some tunes. At which point he puts in an old CD that has britney spears, backstreet boys and n*sync on it. The first song- "Bye bye bye". He starts belting it out and dancing in his seat. Have I mentioned he's completely tone deaf? And looks like a complete goober while doing this. Now I'm laughing, choking on my coke, and wiping my eyes. Whew, meltdown averted. Btw, I was not supposed to reveal the fact that he knew almost all the words and danced to that song ever under penalty of death, so pretend you didn't read it. mmmk?

Well, I dropped him off to work with his dad. Got the meds, potty breaked, and headed back out. To keep myself awake and cheer myself up I sang at the top of my lungs to an old CD of 80's love songs. " Once upon a time I was falling in love...now I'm only falling apart". Picture it. If you're brave. I made it back okay. Although so tired I was literally shaking. Which explains Tuesdays laying on the couch, hacking up a lung.

The rest of the week? Pretty uneventful. Tuesday...laid on the couch sick. Watched my backlog of DVR'd items. Wednesday...caught up my blogs. Thursday...funeral. Yeah, OK that sucked. Then grocery shopped. Do I know how to liven up a day or what?! Which brings us to today...

So, tonight is our high school's homecoming parade and game. I've been to these periodically (when the kids were attending regular school) and I do like a parade and I actually like the football games. Even though the team never ever wins. Ever. They suck. Bad. But it's nice to see people and eat tacos-in-a-bag. But I haven't been to one this year. Sean could care less about going to the games. And Bobby (the one who actually goes to the school) usually works on Friday nights and Mo lives in Iowa now. So no reason to go. Until tonight. Tonight my attendance is mandatory. Why? You ask? Because tonight they present the candidates for homecoming court and of course Bobby had to go and get himself elected. Geez. Okay really, he could care less, but he's a cutie and nice to everyone so he got voted in. So he has to ride in the parade (which means I have to go and take pics, because that's what good moms do). And then they present the candidates at halftime. And they have to be escorted by a parent. Guys by moms, girls by dads. That means, I have to dress nicely and walk out on the football field with him and then pose for pics. And frankly, I'm petrified. I know...you're probably thinking what? Spot's not scared of anything! And usually this holds true. And yes, I was queen of the drama club in high school. Yes, I did rule my speech and drama classes in college. Yes, I did do a bunch of community theatre. Yes, I did sit on panels and give lectures on parenting at parenting kids with disability conferences (yeah, I know, that scares you huh?! Me, as a parenting expert. Try thinking about that before you go to bed tonight. Guarunteed nightmares. But it's true) So why is this freaking me out??? I'm not sure really. I guess because alot of these people don't like me. The principal hates me (this feeling is mutual) because I took my kids out of his school to homeschool them and told him his teachers sucked. So um, yeah, most of the teachers don't like me either. And some of the parents. Turns out they get pissed off when their kids would rather be at your house then home. So I begged my hubby, and Sean, and Sean's gf to go with as moral support. And whew! They are. Now I just have to figure out what I'm wearing because oh yeah, I have to dress up and wear a corsage and it's freaking freezing outside so I'm gonna freeze my hiney off. And I have to practice my "I don't care what you think of me" face and my "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" smile. And biting my tongue. So I don't say what I really think of these folks. I may be exhausted tomorrow. The things we do for our kids....

my smile hides a sarcastic smirk,
♥Spot

Show me some blog love...

C'mon! I have statcounter people...I know you're out there! Reading and lurking. Please take the time to comment. The reason being...

I was raised to believe "If you haven't got anything nice to say, don't say anything." Which, now that I think about it, is kind of ironic considering my mom is the one who used to tell me this. Because now my mom has turned into kind of a bitch and says really mean things all the time. I mean really really mean things. Things that make you say "ouch" or "gee thanks mom, 50 points for you and 0 for my self esteem". Like this one time my daughter had been sick (with whooping cough of all things, who still gets that?!) for like 3 months and hardly ate anything and lost all kinds of weight and then at Easter we were at my gma's and she had some mashed potatoes and my mom is all "potatoes will make you pudgy". Are you kidding me?! For real mom! The child is practically anorexic at this point and that's what you come out with??! See what I mean? On the upside, my family did laugh about it later and we called Molly "pudge" for months afterward.

Or just recently, on family vacay, I walked into her bathroom when we were getting ready to go out and she says "You look really pretty tonight" (I know you're thinking that this is probably a compliment...but just wait...there's always a kicker) and I said "as opposed to my usual look?" and she says (here it comes...) "well I really hate your hair and don't think it looks good, but tonight it does". Gah...! I had just cut it short and loved it. Thanks mom.




So anyway...as a result of you all reading and not commenting I think it means that I suck. Because if I can't say something (anything) nice, I don't comment at all. And I guess I just figure that's how everyone works. So if you read it and you like it...tell me so. Otherwise you're just feeding my paranoia, and really, what kind of person does that make you?! Lol. And even if you can't say something nice...you can still comment. Really, I can take it. As you can see...I've had a lot of practice.

catty remarks & snarky comments,
♥Spot