If you just clicked over hoping for something encouraging and lighthearted because of the deceptively sarcastic positive post title, be prepared to be let down. Sorry I'm not really sorry.
Then I woke up this morning after a night of glorious uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep... strike that, reverse... a night of sleep sabotaged again by Lucy who does this horrible manipulative thing to me where she sleeps allllllll the way through the night one night, a whole 12 hours uninterrupted, and I think that the previous 3 nights of terrible sleep were just a fluke and there is no need to have her cry it out. Then she follows up the one wonderful night with three more horrible ones. I know what you're thinking: shouldn't I consider one one good night a fluke and just get down to business and make her sleep through the night? Why yes. Yes I should. (cough cough WHIPPED cough cough).
A friend told me the other day about how you can drop off clothing you don't need to a local kids consignment store and get money or store credit for them, which is a nice alternative to giving them to goodwill since we're in a tight financial situation, and the girls' clothing drawers are bursting at the seams, largely filled with stuff that they refuse to wear because it's not pink or sparkly. Or it's long sleeved. Seriously, is there some sort of condition that afflicts toddlers that entails a phobia of pants or long sleeves? I have the suspicion that Bernadette is not the first toddler to refuse! to wear anything but a sundress, which renders all the fall clothing I just dug out and switched over unwearable.
It's bad. Anyways, even knowing that I could get money from bringing some clothes to the consignment store does not give me adequate incentive to embark upon the task of organizing the ridiculous amount of clothing that has now found it's home in almost all the corners of our house. As long as I can hide it away, hear no evil see no evil or something.
Last week after my standard weekly store trip with all three kids I came home and barked at Mike that he is not allowed let me bring all three kids ever again and that I just need to do the shopping in the evening when they are asleep or on the weekend. I told him not to let me because I knew I would get to the beginning of this week, be all out of food, and overestimate my abilities and the extent of my patience once again and just take them anyways. Plus they used to be pretty good. They all fit into this extra long cart with a bench, and the penny horse was a great carrot for them at the end.
Cue this morning. No food, feeling like walking death but refusing to be defeated by the likes of the kids, and I loaded them up for another weekly grocery trip.
It was somewhere around the liquor aisle- no one needs to tell me how fitting it is- with only about 1/4 of the groceries in the cart and 2/3 of the children melting down like the plastic bag I left on top of the toaster, faster than I can even handle, when I decided to call it a loss for team Ana. I was officially that mother that everyone was looking at wondering why the heck she just doesn't leave and put the children out of their misery. So I did. But I was not about to just leave all the groceries I had actually gotten into my cart, especially because one of the items is a bottle of bourbon. So we got in line with 2 screaming children and I just let the penetrating stares sink in like a strong marinade in order to really drive home the fact that I should never EVER again take all three children to the grocery store. I think it worked.
On the plus side, I am pretty sure I am a candidate for mother of the year since Bernadette informed me in the car that she "knows ALL the words!" to the Dave Matthews song "Ants Marching", then proceeded to prove that she indeed does.
Now it is time to try to redeem myself by making some homemade saint costumes for Friday, because gold spray paint and glue are way more fun than dusting or cleaning up month old crusted on donut glaze.
Sometimes you lose and sometimes you lose.