Thursday, January 17, 2013

"Scream all you want, small mailman. None of your mailman friends can hear you."

I could not have planned the scene any better, even if I were playing actor/director/producer of the Hollywood film version of that moment in my life.

The morning had been Crazy supersized – what with several mid-night wakings topped with a dollop of early-morning rising of both kids. The one that can speak was decidedly cantankerous from the get-go: “MOM! Mom! Where is MOM!?” JUST as – and I am not kidding you – the baby was getting back to sleep after being up for 2 hours.

Even though the whole lovely crazy mess (think: Nachos) was sprinkled with moments of calm, I once again stood at my sink about three quarters of the way through my pre-work routine and said silently to the heavens “thank god I only have to do this two days a week!” (I do that almost every day I have to work.)

(I love my work. Really. I just don’t love the ‘getting there’ part.)

I loaded up everyone (and everything) in the car and we set off for the day, la-de-dah-ing down our street.

Suddenly: panic! C had forgotten his beloved Mongo (monkey-slash-blanket) at home! “Turn back home, Mom!”

C had forgotten to bring his Mongo with him, but brought his mean mother instead: “No! Mommy has to go to work.
Commence full-scale, earthquake-inducing (back-of-seat-kicking) meltdown! I started pulling EVERYthing I had out of my Magic Bag of Tricks – Felix the Cat style. . . only faster! Soothing mommy voice: fail! Fast-food reiteration, Harvey Karp-esque: fail! Distraction: fail! Stern mommy voice: fail! Threats: fail!

Oh, but he was heartbroken! (And underslept!) AND MAD!: “Turn back home and get my freakin’ Mongo!!! Go get him! I want him!!! I can’t see him!”

I pulled over and pulled the “you-can’t-ride-in-my-car-anymore-if-you-don’t-stop-kicking-the-seat-here-take-a drink-of-water”. . . Fail! “I want to walk to get Mongo!”

So, magic bag now empty, naturally, I turned on the radio to drown out the screaming.

And heard Green Day, summing up “Holiday,” completely in tune with the anarchist spirit spewing from my back seat:

“Just cause, just cause, because we're outlaws yeah
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
This is our lives on holiday”

And then, Tears for Fears, with:

“Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find you
Acting on your best behaviour
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody wants to rule the world….”

He was dragged, screaming, into Nana & Tata’s house. . . where he was distracted with a box of 20-year old retro cars that had been stumbled across in storage. Any word from me brought another barrage of sobs and whining. And tears. Oh, the TEARS!

Driving to work, I took some really deep breaths. I’m not going to lie.

And, for maybe the first time EVER, completely related with the Cranberries’ wailing of “Zombie”:

“In your head, in your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie,
Hey, hey, hey. What's in your head,
In your head,
Zombie, zombie, zombie?”

Why, yes, yes I am.

[Title quote is from "Up"]

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