Yesterday, I dug through five large boxes of old cell phones and chargers counting, checking for batteries, and taking note of what kind of shape they were in. My son's baseball team is collecting old phones to send in for recycling to raise money for our tournament fees ~ in other words, the parents are pulling the work on yet another fundraiser. I was up to my elbows in cell phones laden with other people's germs and lots of dust. Good times. But we are 128 phones in the positive which promises to be profitable for the team.
Then, I spent a little over an hour in the car driving my fantastic son to meet his cousin to spend the night, only to turn around this morning at 9:30 and make the same drive so he could be back in time for his 10:30 practice that was sprung on us at the last minute.
My head is killing me. Too much Sudafed, apparently too little water, and my sinuses are still rivaling against me.
After practice, we get literally yards from the house, my head is pounding, and Madalyn screeches, "MY HAMPSTER!!! I LEFT MY HAMPSTER!!!!" She had left her little zhu-zhu pet on top of one of the tables at the ball field, and she was in complete freak out mode. I told her to relax, that I'd turn around and we'd go get it. I hear an immediate heavy sigh from David.
"What is wrong with you, David?"
"I don't wanna go back." Turns his mouth up in this pout that he has perfected in nine years.
"Well, I don't either, but I am trying to be nice by going back to find her toy she left."
Another heavy sigh complete with the other look he has mastered... this pre-pubescent I am so completely over you look that I'd like to smack right off his little precious freckled face. If the law allowed me to, that is.
"Are you serious, David? Are you serious right now??? If you give me attitude one more time on the way home, I am putting you out on the side of the road and you can just walk the rest of the way home."
No... to answer your question, David is NOT somewhere on the side of the road sweating and thumbing a ride right now. Instead of giving me attitude, he burst into tears. Is almost ten too young to be hormonally imbalanced? I mean, he has emotional outbursts equivalent to a 15 year old girl.
It's never enough. I never do the right thing. If I am pleasing one, the other is in a tizzy with me. They are never both in a good mood at the same time. And did I mention that it feels like the devil himself is squeezing the blood vessels inside my brain with his hot little fingers? Cause it does. And I am not certain I am thinking rationally right now because of it.
I think I speak for all moms out there when I say that we just all need a break from time to time. Right now, I need a break from a 9 year old attitude. Or perhaps I would just like to see a little gratitude from him and that would make things feel a wee bit better. Or perhaps I need those three ibuprofen I just took to kick in and knock the edge off this head ache before I hurt someone. Or run away.
Scott... if I'm not home when you get home, don't come looking... oh, honey, you know I'm only kidding! Sort of...