How lame am I that the idea of grocery shopping turns me into a puddle of whimpering goo. Our town has maybe 7 grocery stores. Five of them are Market Baskets... surrounded by picketing employees and managers who want the old CEO. I am not sure how much of our plight (I feel like we are living under an embargo) has reached the outside world.
Every trip to the one (yes, one) reasonably-priced alternative is like shopping on the day before Thanksgiving. Madness. 80k people are trying to avoid Market Basket stores out of loyalty to the wishes of the employees and managers there. The parking lot is over flowing with illegally parked cars. The things you want are often just gone. You cannot maneauvor in the aisles. The check out lines are well staffed but still long. It is wearing out me and thousand of other mommies. We are tired of this. I think we are into over a month of this insanity.
I got home from the store today with something like a dozen bags. I was frazzled. My daughter asked why did I ever get so much food. She really doesn't get what it is like out there. I just told her there is no way I am going shopping again for at least 10 days.
I am a delinquent. I logged into my library account and there it was. "Member is delinquent." Something about that tickled me. My life is so boring. And filled with responsibility and yet, somehow I found the time to be delinquent. How naughty. Okay. The shame is too much. I will pay my $2.20 and shed my bad girl image.
I am at the Y. I am (rather obviously) not working out. I might since I am here for two kid classes. 2 hours. I have time to fit in my 12 minutes on the bike (that being how out of shape I have gotten).
Almost missed pick up for the youngest today. I turned off the reminder on my phone and let my mind wander. Sheesh. I haven't done that before.
I am worried about my little gray cells. It must be all the vacuuming. I should give up vacuuming.
You do have to laugh… it might just take until the next day, I've realized.
Ki, our resident diabetic, came home from dance hungry. Starving. She commenced eating and shooting insulin, having her own personal Thanksgiving. I had to stand between her and the food finally, and request that she switch to no carb options. I was afraid (with good reason) that the game of matching carbs to insulin would leave her either high or low.
At 11pm she was high. We corrected.
She is adorable when I wake her up at night. Or combative. This night adorable and comedic. When I woke her up at 1:30 am to see how the correction had gone she was apparently still hungry. So, hungry that when I handed her the meter she tried to eat it. Seriously. Eyes drooping, her body swaying she was so asleep, she opened her mouth and bit it.
She pouted when I had to take it away from her and wake her up enough to function.
She was higher still. Poor thing. And so we got to play the wake up game one more time that night.
Studies confirm that your IQ drops significantly when you lose sleep. I am proof. Worse, I think I become less fun.
Can't wait for the window guys to go go go. It is the first step in getting the house back to normal. A little normal would be good right now.
We have moved furniture, rolled rugs, crated belongings for what feels like weeks. We had to nearly clear every room because the dust kicked up has lead paint in it. Then every floor has to be washed, rinsed, dried.
I'm exhausted. Pete's exhausted. And ibuprophen is our best friend lately.
It is a long, ridiculous story but we had to drive back to school in a hurry to find Ki's laptop. The bus monitors were about to head in and I knew that was our last chance at an open door. I ran toward them. And I would love to blame my untied shoes (we were in that sort of hurry) but the truth is I am not as coordinated as I once was. I stubbed my toe on a root and was stumbling forward unable to get my feet under me. There was only one thing to do to prevent a face plant.
Yes. Being a former Super Hero, I did my best judo/airborne roll and I escaped all physical harm.
Wonderful. Well. Not really. The bus full of children was still there in the parking lot and I was now lying flat on my back staring at the sky. I just lay there as the idea of getting to my feet in front of the bus full of people seemed more horrible than lying there in the dirt.
The bus monitor ruined my fantasy that I could pretend it had never happened. She called to me over the bull horn,"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!"
Kira was on me at that point. Half horrified. Half crying at the spectacle that is her mother. To her credit she did not turn away and pretend that she didn't know me.
It's a good thing my kitchen floor is blue because it is REALLY blue now. So is the door to the basement and a bit of woodwork.
I consented to Mar's requests to have a bit of blue dye in her hair. I sweated this one as a self conscious mommy. And in the end I found myself (sort of incredulously) in the kitchen with a small pot of blue dye and my daughter wrapped in a towel. The towel figures in this prominently.
Let's blame it.
I asked Mar to wrap the towel up around her head and the resulting movement (performed with flare, as is her way) caught the open jar of blue. Oh, drop a jar of blue. Not so bad. Right? Did it NEED to bounce? And roll?
The splatters were/are impressive and far reaching, and the effect immediate. There is no 5 second rule with dropped, bouncing blue.
Trying to mop it up gave us more blue over a wider area. Mar was frozen there in shock as I tried to clean it up without spreading it about. "Wow," she told me. "My friend's mom would have been SCREAMING by now."
I don't know why by the big things (like a whole jar of permenant SHOCK blue taking over your kitchen) just don't get my dander up. And it was an accident (not like the socks and wrappers under the table).
I could not get all the blue up. And blue is NOT actually my favorite color, unfortunately.
Li came home from school and said, "Jeez, mom, did you murder a smurf?" Ha. I fixed him with my mommy stare and asked if he would like to have a go at cleaning it up.
It took my husband two days to mention anything. Even though he is in and out of the stained door every day. Appaently, the whole "Crap, I've got permenant dye splattered everywhere" is just not that amazing to him after 17 years together.
Prone. I am prone and achy, but back in my own bed. Always a plus in my book. Buffalo worked my nerves. Well, not the city, really. Just... Best I not revisit my complete failure at being saintly and patient with people who find confrontation to be a worthwhile sport.
Babykins is home recovering from her spectacular temps. I am laid low with whatever she is recovering from.
One triumph is the night I was up with Ki we found her blood sugar stable over night. So her basal is well set. Failure last night over pizza. Up every two hours. Then she resisted my attempts to get breakfast down her. I am woefully unable to parent these three. I sometimes feel they are making it as challenging on me as possible.