Do you know what really frightens me? Something more ominous than global warming or tucking my skirt into the back of my underwear? It's the hours between 6 and 8 p.m. Parenting books refer to this time of day as the "witching hour;" I refer to it as the time "when mommy would like to sneak into the car and drive somewhere, with or without Ben, and then drink a cold glass of wine surrounded only by adults." It’s not as snappy as "the witching hour," but I think a little more on the money. I call it this because my children go CRA-HAAAZY from the time we attempt to put a semi-nutritious meal on the table, to the exhausting bedtime routine around eight o’clock.
I don't know if it's the hunger, fatigue or if they’ve just been over [or under] stimulated throughout the day, but WOWSERS can those kids melt down. Ben and I catch the buzz and we’re all:
"You watch them and I’ll make dinner."
"No, I watched them last night."
And back and forth until someone like, oh lets say the one who isn’t yet house broken, takes off her diaper and pees on the floor. Then the ante’s upped and then it’s all:
"I’ll make dinner AND wipe up the pee AND put a diaper on her, but you put in the movie and get them some juice."
"No, I’ll make dinner and start the movie, but you wipe up the pee, get the diaper AND watch them."
Waiter...drink please!
Last night, in an effort to restore family harmony, we packed up the kids and went to Peter Piper Pizza which is like a Chuck E Cheese, but oh so much cleaner. I'm of course under dressed in my t-shirt and shorts and standard flip-flops whereas the locals here dress for the Peter Piper Pizza occasion in their, "I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, too sexy it huuuuurts" look. Women chasing around their kids in platforms, while trying to keep their bra straps in place.
After we were done with dinner, we took the kids over to the arcade portion of the restaurant. I should say that of my three girls, Whitney, has pulled out of the pack as the most extroverted. And while the rest of us prefer to dip our social toes into the water cautiously; Whitney does a cannon ball. The kid knows how to work a room.
So last night Whitney found herself surrounded by a group of girls twice her age. She was entertaining her audience with a story. And to make sure they got their money's worth, she gestured with her arms and; smiled and laughed throughout her narrative.
I'm thinking who gave this kid a copy of, "How to Win Friends and Influence People?"
I asked Whitney who she was talking to and she was all exasperated, yet found the patience to get this out: "My friends!"
And then she rolled her eyes.
Eye roll?
Did I see an EYE ROLL?
Before bed Whitney came over to where I was sitting and looked at me very seriously and asked, "Who’s coming over tomorrow? Gladys [our sitter], my friend across the street? Who? Who?"
And I'm just thinking ...
WHO is this kid?
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