Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Insanity Bound

Wednesday is usually our park day. We didn't go a) because Leah is sick with who-knows-what and sounds like she's ready to hack up a lung while simultaneously making Niagra falls jealous of her tiny nose and b) I still have 987 things left on my To Do list to cross off before Friday. Trey was pretty good at entertaining himself and letting me get some work done. Leah did better than she has the last couple of days. Until... My children must have an internal clock and know what's normal and what's not. Trey was whiny and cried almost from the minute he woke up from his nap until now. He's confined in his room. He freaked out because the chicken nuggets he eats (and there's only ONE kind) were in a bigger bag than usual. My child has issues. For instance, he will only eat Quaker Bites. If I buy him the Kellog's brand, it's a no go because they are in a different package. Fast food? Only Burger King. He refuses to even touch chicken that dares to come from McDonald's or Carl's Jr. Don't even get me started on the chicken from the sit down restaurants.
This evening, Leah has decided to be uber cranky and not want to be anywhere other than on me. I can't blame her, I know she's feeling miserable. Have I mentioned my dishes have not been done in at least 3 days? And then wouldn't you know it, turning my head ever-so-slightly to look at something, I pull a muscle in my neck and can't turn my head at all. How am I supposed to finish those 987 things when I can't move my head??
Let me paint a picture: Trey is screaming incoherently and turning bright red, Leah is crying and coughing at the same time, the cats are meowing and walking right in front of me because they are hungry NOW and I can't move my head. Where is Bill? Practice for the Christmas Eve service. I think Trey's meltdowns are because he only sees his dad as he's headed out the door. These last few months have been swamped with preparation for Christmas productions at the church. Don't get me wrong, I could be a golf widow or worse, but my boy sure is showing that he's missing something. Shouldn't my husband be home for more than 45 minutes a day? I think so.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Oh, Princess of Quite a Lot! By now the frantic pace has subsided. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger unless it just fuses our wires. I am hoping victory.
avec amoire,