I hear all the time from mothers who tell me about the errands they run. I think it is par for the course, part of Motherese, the Mother tongue of Mothers everywhere. We talk about bedtimes, and bathroom habits and what errands we drag our kids on. I listen in envy as a mother tells me, "We went to the bank, and then I had that thing to return to the store, and I needed a windshield wiper blade at the auto store and we got the car washed, and on the way home we stopped to get groceries!" And I always ask, because I am a glutton for punishment, "Where were the kids in all of this?" And the reply is something along the lines of, "Oh, they went with me, they looooove errands and are flexible to whatever needs to be done!" And that's when that familiar feeling wells up inside of me, and I want to laugh or cry or something between the two and can't decide which. Because? That never happens in my house. Sorry. Couldn't hear your reply over the laughing...
For as long as I can remember, or at least since I have been running errands with kids One errand is usually doable. Maybe this is part of the autism, maybe it is just the particular makeup of my kids. Two is pushing it. Three?
Core breach: Warning, Meltdown Imminent.
Sometimes, I forget this, and the results aren't pretty.
Today, after the meltdown over the Logic class with JBug but that's another story, for another time the kids had an appointment to get their hair cut. We have a wedding tomorrow and they were both due to do the hair thing. They like the hair place, so that went well. Then I had to swing by our church on the other side of town to drop something off quickly. I had also promised JBug that we would try to find her a dress for the wedding, so against my better judgment (isn't it always? This is where I go wrong...) I decided we would make a trip to the store. It's not a loud store or particularly bright, but there are lots of racks of clothes, and little kids get bored easily.
I can't accurately represent what went on at the store, except to tell you that at one point, while I was quickly checking the fit of one of JBug's prospective dresses, JBear had coerced JBean to bite herself on the arm, and then told her to bite harder, and she did! I think her middle name should be Lemming. She of course, hurt herself, started crying, was angry with him and hit him hard. This occurred while I was 20 feet away for about thirty seconds. This doesn't count the loud, loud voices that they use, which make me cringe and I can imagine people cursing me for my children.I get it... sometimes I curse me for my children!
You know the Very Quiet Cricket? My kids are more like
The Extremely Noisy Pests
I had promised them smoothies if they could hold it together at the store. THAT didn't happen. So the smoothies didn't either. We came straight home, amidst the wails of JBean, who was beside herself that she missed out on the smoothie, and angry with me that I stuck to my word. Of course, driving home was a picnic; everyone loves ear-piercing, bloodcurdling screams and feet thumping against the back of the seat. We pulled into the driveway, she ran to her room and locked the door, screaming. She did come out long enough to hit me, so that was festive. I managed to talk to her about her behavior, and she may have gotten it. We'll see. She has since calmed down, and is sitting here next to me building with blocks, but I am getting too old for this rollercoaster crap. And, I have no one to blame but myself.
So...I have made the rule Hard and Fast:
Thou shalt not run more than two errands in a single driving session. Two shall be the number, and the Number shall be Two. Neither shall the number be Three. Or Four. Two is the number. Or else. I'm not kidding. Flying monkeys, I needs them?
(but that says nothing to the number of drinks I get to have once the kids are in bed!)
T, who really, really needs a break