Sunday night- G had to sing in Smithsville with Sonnenburg Station. The girls and I went along, because it`s fun to all be together, and because we know he likes it so much when we go along.
The night started out a little bearish. G laid down to nap right before we left, and his lazy wife was too busy cruising Facebook- to notice that “we” all were oversleeping. So to make a long story short- clothing was grabbed for little girls, pizza was reheated in the microwave to eat on the way. G didn`t get a shower- and his “show” outfit hung crumpled behind the seat…
Once there, the girls and I transformed our pizza sauce covered selves into clean, fresh, little beauties in the car with a spray bottle of water and a plastic comb. (Not very fresh, really.)
So anyways- we 3 went in, and sat down.
Of course, this meant I sat alone…
…WITH two little girls- ages, 1 and 2.
We ended up back on some chairs, the house was full. Behind us sat a pleasant looking mother in her early 40s. She had a couple of kids with her that all looked around 10.
(What do you call that age era? I mean we have terms like: infant, toddler, preschooler, pre-teen, tween, teenager… )
But NOTHING for ages 8-11.
(G adds, that they are called ADOLESCENTS.)
My girl`s and their behavior- started out below average, but I was happy with that. As long as it didn`t head in the direction of Total Meltdown or Utter Chaos.
Yup, you guessed it and then it all took a nosedive SOUTH.
I can only imagine what that sweet brown haired mother, and her adolescents had to say about sitting behind us as they head for home in their minivan.
“Mom, mom! Can we stop at that Dariette?”
“No. Oh children, I want to talk about that mother and her two little children we sat behind tonight.”
All the children grow quiet, and nod solemnly.
“When the older little girl crawled on her mom`s back and then tried to climb up on the back of the folding chair itself… or when she laid on the floor and snuck chocolate candy from her mom`s purse… or when she rolled across the floor to get away from her mom, until she was laying at the feet of the boys beside her… or when she crawled up underneath her mom`s skirt and then sat up and her mom couldn`t get her out, because she was trying to hang on to one shred of her dignity and was also holding a little toddler…”
One of the children says, “Mom, don`t forget the naughty baby-”
The mother continues…
“Oh and the little blonde toddler the mother held… with tiny wisps of hair that apparently the mother felt was ready to be in pigtails. Ridiculous. Anyways, children, when that baby made herself as stiff as a board various times… or threw all the toys on the floor that her mother gave her… or screamed for the Clifford sippy and then refused to drink out of it… or tried to chew the tip off of the hot pink marker when the mother wasn`t looking, because she was leaning over to talk sternly to the other girl, oh, and remember how that poor mother`s skirt was gapping open in the back….”
“Well, anyways, children- that`s what frustration looks like! Oh wow.. bless that plucky, average looking, brownhaired mother”.
Then they pull into their driveway, and go in and eat ice cream in bowls for free.
Or something like that.
Yes, the rest of that night was spent doling out discipline, and us playing in the nursery.
(All the readers breath a sigh of relief.)
I HEARD THAT.
It`s funny how you can be crazy in love with little people even when they drive you nuts.
This morning- we laid around and snuggled and smooched and loved on each other before getting dressed and I think I forgave them- right then, for being so bad on Sunday night.