Thursday, April 23, 2009

Saving the worst for last - part 2? 3? 4?


Okay, let’s try this again. For the fourth time. (mumbling under my breath)

I knew this week was going to be busy. Friday night is the Dining In, and I have my doubts about a few of the people that have said they are going to help. I base this on the one thing I have always agreed with Dr. Phil about – the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. And based on the past behavior of one of the people that’s supposed to show up and help me decorate tomorrow – I’m pretty certain that I’ll be there by myself. There are worse things of course, but it’s just been a frustrating week and this isn’t helping.

I’m just into the second week of my last Master’s class. Since starting this program, we’ve had learning teams in almost every class. I’ve been extremely lucky with my learning team thus far – even though there have been procrastinating team mates, the work always gets done and submitted by deadline. With this learning team, however, we’ve missed one deadline already, we have two assignments due this week and no one has done jack s**t towards it. I’m so frustrated! The other three individuals don’t seem the least bit concerned. But I work hard for my grades and I really, really don’t feel like having my GPA ruined by these slackers. So I’m mentally preparing myself to do it all alone. Not the best way to handle it, but between this same situation happening in three different areas of my life right now, I’m losing patience. If you say you’re going to do something, freakin’ do it. ON TIME.

To take a break and vent via this blog, I popped in a movie and gave the kids a bowl of popcorn, which S decided to dump on top of the new rug, then stomp on and walk through. This follows her parlor trick of dumping out the entire first aid kit and walking on that too when I was trying to put a bandage on T’s face after he fell off the wall at the edge of our property into some ivy and sticks. Luckily he was only about three feet off the ground instead of higher and he escaped with minor scrapes and a bumped nose. But he wailed for a good five minutes because I think it really scared him. Poor kid. He’s going to end up with a nose like Michael Jackson if he keeps up this pace of damage.

So, now I’ve got to get our resident diva, the divine Miss S to clean up her mess while keeping T away from it so that he doesn’t do it for her. Any why he’s willing to clean up her mess and not his own is a mystery to me. And as I just looked up from my computer, they are both asleep. It’s 4:45 here and if they sleep now, they won’t sleep tonight. If they don’t sleep tonight, I won’t be able to get any school work done. If I don’t get any schoolwork done, I’m in deep doo-dah because the entire day tomorrow is shot between the dining in and getting ready for the garage sale we are participating in on Saturday. And, since it looks like I’m going to be doing two team projects solo – I guess the smart thing to do is accept that there will be no sleep for me until this class ends, at which point I never ever have to see or talk to these lazy-assed ‘team mates’ again. And could someone PLEASE tell me how people that can not form a coherent sentence or agree verb tenses within a sentence make it all the way through a Masters’ program and actually freakin’ GRADUATE. GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Note to anyone who is interested – since I’ve been typing in Word, I haven’t had a single incident of magically disappearing text. And, Word spell checks as I go. So…PHBTTTTTTTTTT Blogger. You are so on my “I don’t like you list” today, along with most of the rest of the world. Who needs a Midol? I do, I do!!!!!

Saving the worst for last

I'm really starting to hate computers. After spending the better part of an hour typing a entry, this stupid computer make a little clicking sound and backed up to my blog sign in page. I know exactly what that means, because it's happened before - I just lost all my $%($*%&(#*&$(#@ work. Except the title, which is just the least useful thing to be saved. GAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And like I pointed out, and will likely point out again, it's not the first time it's happened, it probably won't be the last, but I'm seriously considering getting out my other keyboard that I can attach via a USB port that doesn't give me all this trouble.

OH! MY! GOODNESS! It just freakin' happened again. That's IT! I'm typing the blogs in word and then cutting and pasting from THIS SECOND FORWARD.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Color coding

My friend Kellie asked if the kids and I would be interested meeting her kids and her at the pool today. Yes and no. Yes I'm interested, but being interested in taking them and successfully accomplishing it are completely different beasts. But I agreed, because it did sound like fun, the kids LOVE the pool, and frankly, if R and handle it, then surely I can too. No really. I can.

R found out a few months ago that there were family locker areas at the pool that offer more space in the way of changing areas, less crowding and more privacy. So today, I took the kids into the family area, changed them into suits, changed into mine and we headed down to meet Kellie and her kids.

Let me just explain quickly that I'm apparently having a severe shortage of patience and understanding this week. I'm thinking of taking some Midol to see if that's part of the issue, because honestly, things that don't normally bug me are making me want to rip off the heads off people and stomp on them. This is so not a good disposition when dealing with a two and four year old, especially difficult two and four year olds. Wait, did I say difficult? I meant...spirited or full of personality or maybe extremely individualistic. No, actually I really meant difficult. Of course, I'll post this and begin to feel guilty, but today... well, today I'm speaking the truth. Hello, my name is B. and my kids are freakin' difficult. Hi, B.

Anywho, after taking over 20 minutes to change the two kids and myself into suits...well, the divine Miss S, resident diva, didn't even have a suit, I just put her in a swim disposition hadn't exactly improved. As we are walking down the hall, T grabs his crotch, and announces that he has to potty and starts hopping up and down. Which, sorry for the additional sidetrack, but it seems like hopping up and down would make it worse, not better. Luckily we had walked right by a bathroom, so I pointed him to the men's room. After dragging S out of there about 15 times and standing there sweating in the heat and humidity (which did nothing, nothing, nothing for my disposition) I started to get really impatient with T and snapped for him to come on already. It was just pee... what the heck was taking all day?!?! Plus we were already late to meet Kellie and crew, and that didn't help my attitude whatsoever. I hate to be late. Being that I hate to be late, you would think that I'd be late less often. Yet - not so much.

T finally comes out of the men's room naked and carrying his bathing suit. In Germany, this is no big deal, but in certain states, I feel pretty sure that this could result in a public indecency charge. So I took a deep breath and asked why he wasn't wearing his suit. Seems like he got a little pee on it. (insert sigh and eye roll here). So I take the suit into the ladies room and rinse it out. Well, then he doesn't want to wear it because it's wet, so I actually snarl at him - put. it. on. About seven minutes later, we finally make it to the actual kiddie area of the pool. To have been a holiday, the pool wasn't very crowded so the kids had lots of room to play and splash and get tired.

Eventually it was time to go, so we headed back to the family area to change into dry clothes. In the family area, there's a red, yellow, and blue area, which didn't stand out as significant to me whatsoever. Germans are fond of different colors, and we'd always used the blue area before. As the kids and I walk into the blue changing area, there's a man and his two sons standing there. Naked. Which, after almost four years here, I'm used to the fact that Germans have a much more relaxed view of nudity than Americans do, but it took me by surprise anyway. I started helping the kids get undressed, but the guy was standing (still naked, btw) in front of the locker where our stuff was. So I politely said "entschuldigung" which is 'excuse me' and went to get out stuff out of the locker when the man politely told me that the blue family area is for men, red is for women, and yellow is for entire families. I turned seventeen shades of red and was obviously mortified, which made him laugh. I immediately started gathering up our stuff to move to the proper area, but I hadn't expected this faux pas, so there was just stuff crammed into the locker everywhere since we had been running late and I was already impatient. As is usually the case, the more flustered I get, the worse I make it for myself. So I was dropping stuff ALL over the place - shoes, underwear, change...and it wasn't like my disposition had improved at all during our visit - so now I'm mortified, impatient, short tempered, bordering on hateful, and frustrated. At that point I just give up and decide that we'll have to get dressed there and chalk this up to one of those really valuable life lessons that will hopefully be funny. Soon.

I get the kids dressed, then I start to yank on my clothes. The thing about getting the kids dressed first is that then they are ready to go.. so as I'm buck naked, T and S open the door to the hallway. I yelp, and dive for cover. It's one thing to change in a locker room, it's another for an entire hallway full of people to see you do it. So S, trying to be helpful, flings the door shut and smashes her finger and starts to wail. Greaaaaat. I check it for damage - no blood, broken skin, and the bone doesn't seem to have suffered any real damage - and then try to finish getting dressed as fast as I can. S is having none of that, so she sits down (on the wet floor in her dry clothes) and just wails like a siren. I'm trying to talk her down as my clothes simply refuse to cooperate. Seriously, it was like trying to wiggle into a pleather catsuit. Finally, FINALLY I get my clothes on and pick up my soggy bottomed daughter, who is now over it and doesn't want me to hold her since I didn't hold her when she wanted. Fair enough, actually. I cram all the wet suits and towels into our bag and off we go. Kellie and her kids are waiting patiently for us, so I start to tell her the story only to look up and see locker room guy standing right behind her. Blushing another six shades of red, I tell her I'll fill her in later and start the process of getting the kids to head to the car. We were planning a trip to McDonalds, which I had withheld announcing as a way to get them out of the pool and to the car. Sadly, today when I needed it to work it had no effect at all. S threw herself down on the sidewalk and refused to budge. T, trying to be helpful starts shouting, COME ON, S. MOVE YOUR BUTT!!!!!!!!! I seriously need to start watching what I say. I finally get them down the steps and they both run into the road. And then just stand there. Oh, for the love of Pete! I have no idea how they have escaped damage at this point with their love of running into roads. I end up firmly escorting them to the car, dreading the trip to McD's.

Rightly so - S walks up to strangers and tries to help herself to their food, T pulls out all the wooden coffee stirrers from their container on the counter, S keeps trying to go behind the counter, and T starts to spin in circles. This is before we even order. About an hour and a spilled drink, dropped McNugget, epic battle over who gets the remaining drink, a fight over ketchup, 500 trips down the slide that's outside on the patio, various and assorted plastic burns from using his body a braking system and a flat out refusal by both kids to leave and I drag them both to the car amid the usual wailing and protests and vow not to do this again for a long, long time. Kellie, meanwhile is trying not to laugh (soooooo glad she thinks this is funny) and wisely resists the impulse to tell me to chillax.

Two seconds after I start the car and we head home, T announces - 'I'm hungry, Mommy'. Sigh.....of course you are, T. I expect nothing less.