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Why do I even try?!


The Whole Morning sucked

I really can’t pinpoint where things went wrong, but our trip to Lowe’s Home Improvement was one hour of insanity. Pure, unadulterated, ridiculous insanity. This morning has me questioning – why do I even try? The whole morning sucked, and leaving Lowe’s didn’t stop it, either. The next hour and a half was utter stupidity on my part. Why, oh, for the love of all things holy, did I think I could make a recovery from the fiasco that was our Lowe’s experience? What the hell was I thinking when I thought, “hey, gardening with kids will be a bonding experience”??? Diva and Boo are as different as night and day, and today was yet another example. Before Boo was 3, he and I were gardening. He listened, followed instructions, and enjoyed being a helper. Diva, a few months past 3, wanted nothing to do with it, other than to play in the water, throw rocks at us, and run down the plants with her motorized car.

Ya’ll ain’t gonna believe this shit.

Hot Mess

Forgive me, I’m on my 2nd margarita in under an hour. Yes. That bad. Today was up there with my Radio Silence day, if that tells you anything. Let me back up and start at the beginning. Ya’ll ain’t gonna believe this shit. First off, as Hubs was leaving for work, he was shocked to see our garage door open. Miraculously, none of our lawn equipment was missing. He left, and after I got the garage almost closed, I sat on hold with Genie Overhead Doors for roughly half an hour, then spent another 20 minutes or so with the tech walking me through how to reprogram the garage door opener. Here’s an image for you – I’m in my jammies, standing on a folding chair, pressing my cell phone to one ear with my left hand, and hitting buttons with my right hand, listening to specific directions (“hold this button for 3 seconds, let go, when you see a blue light, hit the other button, until you see a red light, then hold the other button until no light”) then I hear from my right ear Diva’s frantic cry for Mommy, since she just woke up, is alone, and scared.

This earns me a margarita

Moving on, after the garage door was working again, I started on breakfast. Both kiddos ate, I had my coffee, then the kids wanted to lay in our bed and watch their tablets together. Seems legit, right? What could go wrong? So, I set out on my normal business. That’s when the screams, growls, shouts, and cries began. So, hey, let’s go to Lowe’s, get some plants, and have fun gardening in the back yard? The kids were happy. As I got dressed, Diva decided she wanted to stay home and play with her Legos. It took Boo literally 3 minutes to tie one shoe. I was about to lose my mind (that should have been my sign to stay home). No, he wasn’t tying his shoe; he was untying it to get it on his foot. Don’t ya love it when kids kick off their shoes at night, instead of untying them?

Five minutes at Lowe’s and Boo is crying because I am using a plant cart, and he is having to hold Diva’s hand. Why is he crying??? Because Diva keeps pinching and hitting him. Note: they were walking behind me. Diva demands that I carry her. I ditch the plant cart, and go into the store (leaving the garden section) so Boo can get me a regular cart with a seat. Diva was completely on board with that idea until I tried to put her IN the cart. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

This earns me a margarita #2

Boo searched the aisles of the garden section. I’m not sure what he was searching for, tho. Diva climbed, sat, and walked on all of the tables that displayed the plants. The two walked together, or at least stayed together, for the most part, while I gathered the plants we needed.

“How come she gets to ride on the front of the cart and I don’t?” Boo squealed.

My answer? “Because you’re too heavy, and you don’t want her pinching you, so shut it!” Not the most winning parenting moment, I must admit.

Both were very helpful in bringing me beautiful flowers in large pots. However, I was looking for pepper and herb plants. After walking the entire garden section for close to 40 minutes, I could find no herbs. Giving up, I asked the cashier, who directed us to go outside. {Of course}

Leaving the plant cart by the register, we walked out, and Boo pointed to a large sign that read “Herbs”. The sign was mocking me. I think the employees of the whole store worked together and moved that section outside while I was inside just to mess with me. And extra bonus, it was right next to the parking lot entrance, where cars and trucks zoom by. Suddenly, Diva no longer wanted to be carried, but wanted down, for some reason.

This earns me margarita #3

I grabbed a peppermint and a cilantro, and we headed back to the register. Suddenly, Diva wanted to be held again. As we got closer to the register, she touched my face with her hand, and said, “Mommy, I don’t feel good. My tummy feels sick.” Her face was flushed! I asked her if she was going to throw up, and she said no, but I knew it was time to leave.

As I swiped my card, Diva decided she needed a Gatorade. I told her I’d already paid, and we’d get a drink at home.

“But I sick. I need orange Gatorade, Mommy. Right now.”

I finished up the whole card-reader battery of questions while searching for cash. Ah! I had seven $1 bills. Score.

“You guys can share one. Which one do you guys want?” I asked.

“Blue.” said Boo.

“Orange!” shouted Diva.

“FINE!!!” I growled, as I grabbed one of each, then handed over my dollars to the cashier.

I start the car, get the kids loaded, give them their drinks, load all of the supplies, and we head home. We listen to Diva repeat “Go home now, Mommy. I want go home now!” all the way home. Who needs music when you have that? You know the Jaguar XJ comes with massaging front seat chairs? Well my XF does, too – just add an unruly Diva to the backseat.

Margarita #4

Out of the frying pan; into the fire - Gardening with Kids

In the driveway, in the  car, I hand Boo my keys, and give him his task – “Just open the door, please.” You know the old saying – Out of the frying pan, into the fire – well, little did I know it, but I just arrived in the fire.

I pop the trunk, kill the car, and get open the back door to get Diva out. He hands me his drink. He dropped Diva’s drink in her lap, since she refused to hand it to me. (I’m thinking to myself – Really? Are these two serious? Am I on candid camera? Am I being punked, or what?)

So, Boo has my keys, and one simple task: open the door to the house. Why on earth is he standing at the trunk of my car? *I can almost taste the margaritas at this point.* I ask him to please do what I asked, and simply open the door. As I am carrying Diva through the garage, Boo is standing at the door, fiddling with the mace on my key ring. NOT opening the door. The only thing that keeps me from completely losing my mind is the fact that there is a bag of Cuervo Margaritas in the fridge with my name on it.

And so it begins . . .

Hot Mess

Okay. Car unloaded. Kids fed. Time to do some gardening! Woo-hoo! All the drama from the morning is behind us, and we are going outside. Foolishly, I really believed this. In my defense, don’t all kids LOVE being outside?

The three of us head out to the back yard, each of us optimistic about the joy that is about to unfold before us. Yeah, I am a special kind of stupid, I guess. Both kids immediately began grabbing and tugging at plants, rushing to rip open the bag of potting soil, and eager for the water hose to be turned on. A quick, soft, “hang on kids, let’s do one thing at a time,” from me, then Boo ran off to turn on the hose, and Diva rushed to the sand table. And so it begins.

I added soil to a pot, cut off the label of the cilantro, and Boo “drenched the plant,” and I added it to the pot, piled in more soil, the let him loose to water it, as I pushed it firmly into place to eliminate any air pockets.

For the love of God Almighty! It’s gardening, not a backyard brawl!

Hot Mess

It is really a blur of high humidity, spraying water, screams, flung sand, pushing and pulling, and me begging for their patience, and to listen to me, really. Seriously. For the love of God Almighty! It’s gardening, not a backyard brawl. Yeah, explain that to my kids! Boo took on heavy fire, as Diva threw the gravel rocks that line the patio at him, for some unknown reason. There was a major throw-down over who could get the shovel from the garage. At one point, Boo and I had to tackle Diva’s Barbie Jeep, as she was trying to drive over the Citronella plant. She decided to go in, along with a dozen or so flies.

Margarita #5 earned

After what seemed like hours, Boo and I successfully planted cilantro and peppermint. The Citronella plant, red pepper plant, and the cayenne pepper plant remain in their original pots, but are outside, at least, and watered. So, Diva is not the gardener that Boo and I are. Lesson learned.

Boo and I headed in, after taking a look at our “garden,” and he was happy. I was too – happy it was over. What a day! I’m so done. I’m now on my 3rd margarita, and 2 hours after being inside, I STILL have boob sweat. But hey, we were out of the house, we did something productive, and really, Jose makes everything okay. Get your happy, or at least hang on for dear life until it finds you.

Summer is hot, motherhood’s hotter.

Hot Mess

A mom’s work is never done: Handyman, chef, referee, gardener, tear-wiper, diaper-changer, and wife . . . margarita-drinking is simply a must! Summer is hot, motherhood’s hotter.

Do you have days like this? If so, please let me know what you do. If you don’t, then PLEASE let me know WHAT you do!

Peace, ya’ll! #getyourhappy

HotMess
About me

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a southern hot mess? Join me as I slam through life like a bull in a china shop. It’s better if you just go with it.

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