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    July 07

    And yet, they still love me...

      Let me make one thing perfectly clear from the start- I am the Queen of My World. My subjects adore, obey & rely on me in a multitude of ways. Rightly so, since I am highly intelligent, talented, beautiful & a benevolent ruler. Okay, maybe the fertilizer is spread a bit think. But I do have a respectable IQ, a high GPA, & exude an aura of calm, reason & competence. But there are times...I was sharing an embarrassing moment with another blogger, which started me thinking about all the silly things I've done to my family. I am truely amazed they still talk to me, let alone claim me as family. 

    Exhibit 1:  It was parent/teacher conference time; my son went to a K-8 year-round school & had a core schedule- 4 teachers for 6 subjects. All the teachers were in one room, & parents went from one area to the next to talk. Now, at the time I was on a low-carb kick & had tried an approved chocolate bar with Maltitol- unfortunately, it has a noisy side-effect for some people & , of course, I'm one of them. So, I'm making the rounds with the teachers & I start to feel uncomfortable on the 3rd one, but have maintained my dignity. I bent forward to get out of the hard plastic chair &, you guessed it, break wind. Loudly. With my 12 yr old son sitting next to me. Naturally, at that precise moment, the room was completely silent- almost. I apologized politely & went to the next teacher. As I sat down- yep- ripped another one. I was red to the roots & my son was praying for the Rapture to come RIGHT NOW!!! I apologized again to Miss Bell- his favorite teacher- then we burst into giggles. Soon, the whole room is rocking with laughter & my son is seriously considering legal action. He eventually forgave me & confessed in private that he has proud of both how I handled the situation... and my volume!

    Exhibit 2: Every weekend between Thankgiving & Christmas, there is a great festival in San Francisco called the Dicken's Fair. It is a favorite family event, so I purchased tickets early & told the kids they could each bring a friend. Early the 1st Saturday, I roust, corrall & bully everyone into the car by 8 am, because I want to have the WHOLE day to enjoy the fair. My husband & I, two of our kids, two friends, & my mother-in-law drive from Tracy to South SF, about an hour & 20 minute drive, me rattling on about all the fun stuff we'll do. We are 1 mile from the entrance of the Cow Palace & I gasp "OH-MY-GOD!!! I forgot the TICKETS!!!"  My husband starts to laugh, until he sees my face & realizes I'm not kidding. These flipping tickets cost $25 each at the door, so there is no way I can afford to buy more. So, a half mile from the gate, we turn around, drive back to Tracy, with me alternately crying & cussing, get the tickets, & drive all the way back. Lesson learned: All purchased tickets go into the glove box as soon as they arrive, or purchase them Will Call!
    Exhibit 3: When my daughter was two, she graduated to a real big girl bed, but of course wouldn't stay in it. At least twice a night, I'd hear her trying to get out of her room (she couldn't work the door knob) fussing & crying until one of us went in & sat with her. It had been a particularly trying day overall, so I was exhausted  by the time I crawled into bed. So when her nightly routine started, I decided not to coddle her anymore. I walked in, plopped her in bed, said goodnight firmly, & left. No talking, no song, no back rub. Needless to say, she whined & called out, but I was going to stand firm. An hour later, I had to go back in & do it again; this time she looks at me with puppy eyes, says "I wuv you, Mama" & "There's monster outside!", but no dice- back into bed. 2 hours later, I hear a thump & then her wimpering. I march in & she's sitting on the floor with big tears rolling down her cheeks- "I falled off bed!"  I say "Sometimes that happens", wipe her face, put her back in bed, then give her a scolding. " Big girls stay in bed at night- Mama is going to her bed & you are going to stay in yours!" Well, that's the last I hear for the night except a few whimpers. In the morning, I go in to get her dressed. She's still fussy- I think  she's  probably still sleepy, but we're going to the park with friends, so I figure she'll perk up. I lift her arms up to pull off her nightie & she yelps, then starts crying. I look at her arm & it is swollen, bruised & shaped oddly. HER ARM IS BROKEN!!! I am the worst mother in the world- I actually scolded her for crying over her injury. She spent 4 weeks in a cast, which she used to whack her brother with frequently (some things never change!)
    Exhibit 4: Late one night, I'm headed off to bed & realize I haven't seen one of the cats in a while. She's just a kitten, about 4 months old, & follows me around when I walk thru the house, usually between my feet. So, I begin to search. I open every closet, cabinet & drawer; I look in every room, under every piece of furniture; I look in the garage, the sinks, the windows, even inside the dryer. All the time, I'm calling her name & saying "Treat! Treat!" The other cats are following me now, waiting for the treats I keep talking about. I'm starting to get frantic- she's just a little thing- what she got outside? We have loose dogs running around this neighborhood! Okay- now I panic. I wake up my husband & son, tell them the kitten is missing & they need to search outside. They grab flashlights & head out to the street in their pj's, while I search in the backyard. They walk up & down the street, crawling under cars, looking thru bushes, calling for her- no luck. Our neighbor hears the boys & comes out to help. I'm now in tears- I start going thru the house again, turning on every light- I look in the laundry hamper, the sewing machine cabinet, behind the tv & stereo. Nothing. I go to my room to put on clothes to help search outside---- and there she is, laying on my pillow, sound asleep!!!

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    Jungle Mamawrote:

    I agree with your MIL; you are funny!  I'm so glad you stopped by my site.  I read this aloud to my dh and he and I both had a few good laughs and groans! 

    We decided we'd make you feel a bit better about the arm thing though.  Our daughter was only 3 (almost 4) when we moved her onto the top bunk about the time our youngest (then) was ready to move on to the lower.  We'd had her up there for only a couple nights when one night we heard a huge thump and a cry.  Upon inspection the child had hit her head on the edge of the armoire and split open her eyebrow to the bone.  We spent the night in the hospital getting stitches and later repairing the damage done from the cocaine concoction left on her eye too long which burned off her cornia.  The worst part about this story is that we hadn't had time to do an effective search for an extra safety rail for the top bunk and figured she'd be fine for just a few nights until we found one.  I guess we learned our lesson . . .

    Hope that lightens the load off your chest a bit.

    Thanks for the laughs, you're a great read!

    July 10
    Guineverewrote:
    This sounds like my life.  Hmmm...  lol
     
    Have a great weekend!
    July 8

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