It's been an interesting week. Interesting, as in the old proverb....
Last Saturday, I picked the kids up from their dad's house. His way of catching me up on the last three days was to laugh maniacally and race away in his big silver truck. It was later than usual, as I'd spent three hours standing in the sun, attaching wristbands to those who were over 21 and ready to party in the streets at the beer and wine festival. Trying not to offend those who were quite obviously over the legal age to imbibe, but were in total denial about those silly crow's feet and leathered skin.
I had had the fortune of winning free tickets to the local drag strip - what a fun way to spend an evening with my lovely children and handsome man. I will never think that again.
I hadn't realized that bleachers were not invented merely to sit on, with each row higher than the next so that all could have a good view. No, they are to jump on, pound on, run up and down on, and generally give anyone over the age of 20 a screaming headache and the urge to scream, "Sit down NOW or I'll beat you so hard you will never sit down again!"
The highlight of the evening for the munchkins was the child's version of the roulette wheel...only a dollar, folks, and you can possibly win a sticker worth 1/5 of that! Oh, and the snow cones. They advertised 20 flavors, and actually had two of them in stock.
Finally, it was time to go. Home. I used my terrific Love & Logic parenting skills. "Kids, would you like to go home now, or in five minutes?"
The Prince of all decided he did not want to go. Not for any reason, at any time. Now, I know better. After all, I've been mothering this small angel for nearly all of his 7 1/2 years. I should have picked him up and carried him to the car. But, no - we ended up practically dragging him, with his heels dug into the dirt, the whole way. Screaming. Screaming the phrase that every parent loves to hear in public, "You're hurting me!!!"
He cried all the way home. He cried when I put him to bed. I cried later.
We spent Sunday in boot camp. My cabinets are gleaming, thanks to his housekeeping skills.
Tuesday, during his 6-month checkup by his ENT, the doctor says, "Hey, you want to see something?" I peer into the otoscope (that's what it's called, folks - aren't you impressed?). I never knew that anything that fluorescently green could actually be inside someone's body...even the ear. My psycho son was not acting up all weekend because of my parenting skills, or lack of them. He was not showing that he did not want me to date. He was not having a hard time adjusting to the much more difficult 2nd grade.
He had a screaming ear infection.