Tuesday, April 12, 2011

In case of emergency...

...take a big a#@ hammer and smash those silly little rules and expectations we force upon ourselves.

It was one of those days.

It started out normal and sorta just twisted and turned its way around into long, sorta emotional and annoying. Nothing bad, really, just a big ol' pileup of fatigue, frustration, and mundane daily routines...topped with a dash of 30 weeks pregnant.

I stood in the shower and didn't want to come out at one point.

The toddler (who doesn't understand the concept of "mommy time"...or closed doors for that matter) stood at the corner of the tub with the curtain pulled back and sprayed the plant water bottle at me while I did my best to shoo him away. (It didn't work.) The first grader didn't want much to do with me. Or dinner. Or anything not on his very own "to do" list. The husband snarked at the idea of chicken pot pie before he left for the night...but in his defense it was only after I'd done the same.

Who on earth wants to make chicken pot pie after a day like this? Despite my planning and my lists and my calendars...every once in a while, I want to pull my hair out and shake up our lives a little bit. Even if it's only with a happy meal or two.

Day in and day out, I've learned to live by lists, schedules, concrete expectations of when such and such should happen, what to do if it doesn't, what we're eating, what we're wearing...it keeps me (in particular) afloat during our crazybusyblurry weeks. But sometimes it really chaps my hide and the old me starts bubbling up from within, demanding rebellion and excitement and the chance to ignore the "shoulds" and the "need to's"..

So tonight, the boys and I invented the "pajama dinner dash" and cured Mama's mix of cabin fever and slight immaturity. We took our showers/baths/hybrid mix of the two and got in our pajamas. We walked right past the kitchen. Past the empty pots and pans and the cold oven. We got in my adorable little truck "Danny Boy" and we drove straight to the golden arches. Yes, I hate relying on happy meals. Yes, I know what damage I did to my kids' arteries tonight. No, I'm not sure I'm really digesting the guilt from it at the moment.

We drove past the neighborhood parks and looked for signs that the ice was melting off the lakes and that the city might be considering their annual clean up in the coming days. (From what we discerned, the lake thaws are still a few weeks to a month out...but the clean ups?? Already started!)

We came home. I had a small milkshake for dinner and the boys stayed up a half hour late with Mama watching the biggest loser (oh, the irony!). It was such a far cry from our rigid bed time and dinner routines that we were all a little lost at first...but loafing on the couch while Coach Bop cracks the whip has a way of easing the conscience.

News flash: I'm not Superwoman. I'm sorta soft around the middle. I cry easy somedays. And there are times when I foolishly feel constrained by my own expectations. You know what else? It's nothing a little cruise around the sunset-washed neighborhood and a vanilla milkshake can't cure.

1 comment:

  1. SUCH a great post! It's so true... we HAVE to cut ourselves some slack, sometimes. Like you, I live by lists and schedules. I truly believe that if i did not base the majority of our lives around such things, we would spiral into a chaos... BUT grace has to exist too...
    Good for you!
    I hope this morning has you feeling loads better!