Friday, March 11, 2011

Treat day (again) = tired momma :)

Soooo ... it's been awhile since I've had a treat day story. 
Today is the day. 
And there really isnt much to this story. But still, I am me and I want to share it so other moms can share and understand my misery. Because, you know, misery loves company.

Today I met my friend, Sara, and her two girls downtown for ice cream and a trip to the park. Seems easy enough, right? 

Thank God Sara brought a stroller so I could put Libby in it. She's getting big and I don't care how many BodyPump classes I teach, she makes my arms tired. 

Anyway, we arrive downtown, 6 kids in tow. The girls love ice cream, so we opt to stop at Cold Stone Creamery first. 

Connor, because he is insane, does not like ice cream. Furthermore, he makes it very clear that he also doesn't like the smell of the ice cream store. He tells me this by running out the door and close to a pretty busy street. 

Ok, he's back inside and is now telling me he wants cotton candy ice cream.

"You don't like ice cream, Connor."

"I like this one. I promise."

"Well, you're gonna try it before I buy it."

Sample eaten - he swears he likes it. So I buy it.

Before Keely has a chance to finish her order, he has informed me that he doesn't want it. He has slurped it and had enough.

"I don't like it."

The sweet girl behind the counter offers to get him another flavor. 

"Oreo flavor. Vanilla with oreos, mom."

Ok then. Done. $14.00 later we are on the way to the park. Before we head, we go to Starbucks, because, you know, Tracey loves coffee and so does Sara, and hell, we can't walk with beer or a Skinny Girl margarita in our hand and walk downtown. (Sadly). 

I come out of Starbucks. Abby is climbing a tree. Connor is complaining because he doesn't like his ice cream and wants pumpkin bread from Starbucks. Oh yeah, and a bottle of water. 

Too bad, Connor. You're done. Let's go.

We arrive at the park, but only after a few "Connor, slow down!" and "Connor, don't run so far ahead" and "CONNOR, WAITTTTTTT!!" come out of my happy mouth.

I must look like the meanest SOB of a mother there is. And here I am, with my dear friend Sara, who is cool as a cucumber, literally, the pied piper of kids. I tell her that too. 

"How do you DO it? I'm about to wring his neck...and he isn't even bothering you!!!"

Good lord, Im needing a drink about this time. 

We are at the park for - hmmm - let's see - give or take 10 minutes - and then one has to go to the bathroom, then 2, then 3, then 4, then 5...

What is the point of staying at the park? The bathrooms are at the library. Let's just go over there, use the bathroom and stay there. 


At the library, Connor is happy, I am happy (because he is contained and can't run into any traffic), Libby is content, Keely is content. 

Abby: "Mom, I am so bored. Can I get on the computer?"

Here we go. No computer Abby - why don't you check out a BOOK???

Time to go. Have to be home in 30 minutes. I'll wrap this up. I know we don't need to know the play by play, but it's my blog and I'll b*tch if I want to! :)

Suffice it to say, after the walk back to the car, which included more reprimanding Connor, a moment of panic when he hid and I had no idea where he was, and the traffic that prevented me from being home in time for Keely's sleepover, and you have ONE TIRED AND INCREDIBLY ANNOYED MOMMA!

The plan for next week's treat day? Sara's bringing the Skinny Girl margaritas to my house, the kids will play outside, and we will relax.

Any other moms seeking the same respite? You are more than welcome to join us. The more, the merrier. (And the better the stories, to be sure!)

No comments:

Tracey's bookshelf: read

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
The Girl Who Played with Fire
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest
My Sister's Keeper
Nineteen Minutes
The Pact
The Tenth Circle
Change of Heart
Keeping Faith
Handle with Care
House Rules
More Than It Hurts You
Amy and Isabelle
A Prayer for Owen Meany
A Widow for One Year
The 158-Pound Marriage
To the Lighthouse
Between the Acts
A Room of One's Own, and Three Guineas
The Help

Tracey English's favorite books »