Monday, May 2, 2011

Pity?.. Party Of One?

Morning Readers,

     Last night, I hid in my car. I crawled in to the passenger seat, put my Coors Light in the cup holder, and shut the door as tightly as I could. After which, knees pulled up to my chest, I commenced the crying of a woman who's had a really, really long week. If any of my close friends had discovered me, the natural conclusion would've been a dry-run of the family's Zombie Apocalypse survival plan (if you're wondering, after crying, I pack-up the kids, reverse the suv through the garage door and book it to the country..), but it wasn't about zombies, I was just trying to escape baby hysterics, husband frustrations, and the poor decision of giving one's children diet soda...

     I'd laughed when he'd said it.

" Honey, why don't we take the bottles away before we go in? That way no one will see that we're bad    parents."
 
"Ha!", I'd snorted. "No one's gonna care if the babies have a little pop in their bottles. This is the first time they've even had it. Not a big deal."
  
     Motivated by a streak of pure selfishness, I handed Butch and Sundance their plastic bottles filled with Dr. Pepper and ice and charged into the Barnes and Noble book shelves. I didn't care. Exhaustion from a week of cranky babies and worn-out Husband had gotten the better of me. I was on a mission to find a copy of The Shining and I needed some semblance of quiet to decipher this "alphabetical order" the book people had put everything in. On edge, I was just looking for an excuse to shout, "What the hell lady, it's diet soda, so keep your eyes in your face."
     But my babies were well-behaved, silently enjoying their bubbly drink and even taking the time to raise fat hands in chubby affirmation when asked which Agatha Christie mystery looked best to them. All three of us voted on The Body in the Library,  after discovering that The Shining was forty dollars and not making the trip home with us. We paid for our book and left. And then all hell done broke loose...
     They say that "Hell hath no furry like a woman scorned", but I suspect they have never been subjected to one-year-old children riding a caffeine rush as furiously as Luke Perry rode that bull in 8 Seconds. Gut-wrenching, unstoppable screaming, tantrum-throwing, I-just-wanna-sit-on-the-floor-and-have-a-breakdown hysterics filled the house from top to bottom. No one wanted to play or laugh or watch Mama put on a show.
    Husband reached his max and turned the tv up to max power. Having given up, I put everyone in their cribs and closed the door. Sixty seconds later found me wracked with sobs in the car, in the closed garage, in my pity party. The world sucked because babies were crying, Husband was frustrated, I was lonely, and      B and N charged forty dollars for a hardback...woe was me...the humanity of.  it. all.
     After doing my most dramatic Bette Davis by smoking a cigarette and watching my mascara melt down my face in the side view mirror, I decided the end the party and go inside. Where I found...
My babies. And Husband. All playing together like nothing had happened. Oh yes, everyone looked up to check that Momma had pulled it together, but the caffeine clouds had cleared and happiness had found its place again...
     There's no real moral to the story today. Don't feed soda to babies? Try not to lose your cool? Smoking is bad? Who knows? Maybe it's hiding with The Body in the Library...

Until Next Time Readers!