The title may seem random, but seriously, this story has a beginning, a middle AND an ending. And it all has to do with the things in the title. Which is kind of awesome. Also, kind of random. ‘Tis my life.
This morning, I woke up with the most awesomest idea in the whole entire world, ever. Ok, so it wasn’t that great, it was just pretty good. I thought, “Hey, I should totally go to the library after I go to the post office, get a library card and get the kids some movies so
I don’t have to watch Tangled for the millionth time so that they can watch a few movies this summer!” [Note: We still don’t have cable OR reliable internet. We are living in the stone ages, people. Someone send help, quick, Mama’s going crazy up in this joint.] So, since my children are normall so well behaved [Note: Totally not being snarktactular; my kids are very well behaved.] I decided that this would be a wonderful undertaking for my all the time solo self which would be fun and interesting and! bonus! would get us out of the house for free. Yes, dear readers, this plan of mine was perfect.
So, we jumped in our family vehicular mode of transportation and headed to the Post Office, so that I could check our PO Box (junk mail, how I hate thee) and see if there was a notary person there (alas, no) so I could finish getting my paperwork for my background check ready to mail [Note: Background check is so I can work with kids during my college courses, not for anything weird. Not sure that there is a “weird” reason to get a background check, just thought I’d clarify.]. I had to circle around the block four times before a parking space became available. This has happened every time I’ve gone to the Post Office. It’s as if God is playing some cruel joke on me, because I keep going at random times throughout the day.
Noon: Oh look! No parking available!
2 PM: Oh look! No parking available.
2 AM: The party is apparently at the Post Office.
9 AM: The mail hasn’t even been delivered TO the PO Boxes yet, still everyone is just hanging out, waiting.
You catch my drift? So, I can only imagine that the bearded man is upstairs laughing at me and saying, “HAHAHA! Look at her! Trying to just take a quick trip to the Post Office. Bwahahaha! What a foolish, foolish girl!”
So, after my four trips around the block, imagine my anger and dismay, really, at opening up the box to find….junk mail. Which I loathe. So, my day was getting bad, already, and it was yet noon. Won. Der. Ful.
I decided that, since I had some coupons burning a hole in my pocket, I was going to run to Mama’s CrackHouse in the form of a Grocery Store [Note: AKA “Albertson’s”] and grab some boxes of cereal (which were buy 4 get a coupon for a free gallon of milk, and I had $0.50/1 coupons AND 3 coupon doublers, not shabby!) when I noticed, poised near the checkout, Fly Swatters.
Now, the only complaint I have with our “New Town” is that the mosquitos are HORRIBLE. I mean, they are as big as helicopters, which makes them menacing looking, and they are plentiful, for some God Awful reason. I’m not sure what makes them hang out on this side of Wyoming, but GEEZ I wish they’d go away. (Don’t even get me started on my “What do mosquitos do for us anyway?” rant, just sayin’). My darling daughter is terrified to death of bugs. Mosquitos, bees, fleas, anything that creeps or crawls and she’s screaming/crying/whining within a second. I saw the fly swatters and thought, “Oh yes, this will give her the power!” and score! they were 2/$1.
Then, it was on to the library, where, ONCE AGAIN, I had to circle the block
four five six times before a parking spot became available. Not even joking.
By the time I parked, I was so … just … jackwagon-ish. I was grumpy and just aggravated, and really didn’t feel like going to library anymore.
I went anyway, because I’d promised the kids I’d get them a DVD to watch and a book, which I also promised to read to them, which for some reason really didn’t sound like a good deal for me, but whatever.
This is the part of the story where the yelling begins, and does not end until we got home and I shoo’d the kids to their bedrooms.
My children have only been in a library twice before today. Once, I had my husband with me (and it was YESTERDAY by the way) so he acted as a buffer. The very first time was when Thing 1 was about 9 months old, not yet walking and I was … about … 6 months pregnant. So Thing Two has been to the library once in utero, once out. Honestly.
I know, I’m a HORRIBLE parent. Whatevs.
My sweet, normally mellow, wonderful children turned in to screaming banshees from hell when we went into that library, and did not re-emerge as polite, normal children until we got back into the front door of my home. I’m not sure if the doors to the library are laced with some sort of hard drug, or what, but basically, there was a lot of me, trying to do a stage-whisper but almost approaching Screech Level One, which had the kids going even more ballistic.
Thing One wanted a pop out book and he kept screaming, while simultaneously bouncing, “I want a book that pops, you know, Mama, you know? You know the pop books?! I want a POP! book! A POP! book! Mama, can you get me a POP! book!?!?”
Thing Two would screech everytime we came near anything adorable (like a stuffed animal) or pink.
Thing One would yell, “What’s this book about Mama?” from a faraway place across the library when I was sure that he’d just been right behind me.
Thing Two would say, “OH! MAMA! I really like this! I really really really really LIKE THIS!” in a sing-songy voice every five seconds.
Thing One saw little kids playing computer games and started morphing from Annoying Kid Class B to Class-A Meltdown Kid because his horrible mommy wouldn’t let him play a computer game. Which garnered some Reproachful Mommy Looks from other mom’s who seemed to have no problem letting their darling play the video games and Why Can’t She Shut That Kid Up Looks from the father’s in the audience, who were just there to read the free newpaper and maybe enjoy a magazine, for Pete’s Sake.
These were the highlights of the trip. Seriously.
So, I wrangle my now Class-B Melting Down Children in to the family vehicular transportation device and strap them in, red and puffy, trying not to drop my bag of books [Note: What? I wasn’t going to let screaming kids get in the way of me getting some trashy chick-lit. Also: The husband and I have come to an agreement that I will not buy any new Nook Books until I read the ones on there now. This arrangement somehow is not working out in my favor, so I didn’t technically *purchase* books, I *borrowed* them, nothing against that.] while also trying to again inform them of the rules about library books. I explained the rules to them five times.
Two minutes later, I’m pulled over on the side of the road because Thing One had somehow taken the complete cover off of his book and channeled Surly, Angsty Teenager, and kept saying things like, “Ugh. Mama. It’s *totally* fine, chillax.” and “Why are you screeching at me, Mama? Why? Can’t you use inside voice?” and my personal favorite “Mama, stop being a jackwagon and just fix it. GAWD.” At this point, I approached Screech Level 3 and seriously debated dropping my children off at the nearest zoo.
When we got home, I found the tape to mend the cover, found the stickers from the front of the book in the backseat and taped them back on and then prayed to the Man upstairs to allow the Library to just take the stupid book back when I turn it back in.
Which will probably be on par with asking him to find a parking spot at the Post Office the first time I drive around: Ain’t happenin’.
And I serioualy want more children?
My mama must’ve dropped me on my head when I was little.