Waiting...

Until I had kids, I wasn't a type A personality. But my tendencies seem to have run amok with all the logistics that having children entails - getting up, showered, bags packed, kids fed and changed, etc. in time to leave in the morning, dropping kids off, talking to teachers if necessary, making a ridiculously long drive to Belleville to get to work (usually late), only to hurry home at the earliest opportunity at 5 or later to make dinner and start the slippery slope of evening routines. When something breaks my schedule, I get ticked. Which is why the past week has been especially painful.

Over the past week, my husband needed minor outpatient surgery. So I went (what - I'm selfish for complaining about it, but not so selfish I'd leave him on his own). Said surgery is in a location he cannot easily reach, and even if he could, he couldn't clean it thoroughly. So I do it twice a day, which again breaks into my carefully constructed schedule. It's also extremely painful for him since you're required to keep the wound open so it heals from the outside in and doesn't create another cyst.

Then there's the broken fridge, which requires daily trips to the supermarket for ice and fresh food (because I think I'm going to hurl if I eat much more takeout - I've certainly gained back two pounds). And now I'm waiting for the fridge repair guy to show up, which almost never turns out well. I'm hungry - since the fridge is broken, we haven't been keeping food overnight, and I've been giving the kids whatever healthy, fresh food we have - and so hopped up on caffeine I think I might explode. Which doesn't help my tension levels.

This isn't a big deal. I know this. And I should consider the quiet time I've had, both Wednesday while my husband slept after his cyst was removed and now while I wait, a gift. After all, when do I get to enjoy quiet, alone time? I could clean - I never get to do that without getting swarmed by children, and I actually enjoy cleaning up when I'm by myself. I could also work. At my job, since I create products that are used in a call center, I'm pretty much smack dab in the middle of a call center so I can hear what's going on. It's unusual and heavenly to have it quiet enough to read new legislation without having to put my fingers in my ears. What's getting to me, though, is that I know I should be somewhere else. This wasn't on my schedule, blast it.

And I keep going through what I need to do after the fridge is looked at. And what happens if it can't be fixed today? Then I'll probably have to do this all over again at some point this week, and dammit I still have some condiments in there that need to be tossed and it'll take forever to get to work if this guy ever gets here, and once I'm at work I've got a dozen meetings and an interview with a national publication if I can make it and what the hell are we going to do for dinner? Then there's the wound to clean, the kitchen is filthy and, bloody hell, when was the last time I worked out? *pant, pant, pant*

Did I mention that I hate waiting? The only thing I hate worse is schedule changes. I need a set schedule almost as much as my four year old.

Bad Mommy.

Ragsy has been trying to play me for several days now. It'd be really irritating if it weren't by turns funny and guilt inducing. Funny because he comes up with the most ridiculous requests to cure his crying and guilt inducing because it feels wrong to have to try not to laugh at someone who is crying, even if they're crocodile tears.

Case in point: two evenings in a row I've put him to bed. Both nights, just as I'm about to leave the room, copious crying ensues. I mean, he really worked himself up. But when I asked him what the problem was, his response was, "I want to go to the Pirate Festival!"

Ok. Normally I'd say yes, provided that going was convenient and the request made politely. After all, I like pirates as much as the next guy. Unfortunately, after an incident at Borders, the Pirate Festival has since been removed as an option. So, after quietly explaining to him that we can't go to the Pirate Festival, I made the mistake of asking, "Is there something else wrong?" After all, after I had to carry him screaming out of Borders, once I got him calm, I was able to draw out of him that he was hungry.

Silly me. So, crying ensues again. This time, "Yes, Mommy."

"What is it, sweetie? How can I help?"

"I also need to go to the zoo!"

Right.

"And I need to go to the India food shop (Taj Palace) and the Big Red Food Shop (Bread Company) for breakfast. Then we need to go to India."

Why do I even ask?