I spent today preparing for Thanksgiving, and since my kids are out of school for the rest of the week, I took them along. Can you say "mistake", boys and girls?
It started out okay -- we started out the day with haircuts for them. We go to a place that specializes in kids' haircuts, so they get to sit in little toys (my son does, anyway -- my daughter's getting too big) and they watch cartoons and play video games while the stylist's scissors cut away the excess and I'm finally reminded what my children's faces look like.
From there we went to the Honeybaked Ham Store. You didn't actually think I was going to cook, did you? My little darlings (notice my tongue is firmly in my cheek with that) started to get a little rowdy, but nothing too bad yet. Spent the equivalent of a loan payment, but Thanksgiving dinner is covered.
We stopped back at the house to unload the truck and then off to Wal-Mart we went.
I guess I should add the we live out in the middle of nowhere. We're just outside of suburban Atlanta, but it's at least a 20 minute drive to anything. I mean, we've got a cow pasture at the end of our street, for cripes' sake!
Anyway, Wal-Mart. My own private hell. On second thought, judging from the snickers I heard from people as we passed, maybe it's not so private after all. Now, my kids are almost 10 and 5, so their whole world is videos, video games, and candy. Actually, it's whining for videos, video games, and candy.
Man, I should just get one of those little digital recorders and tape my regular rants. "No!" "I'm not buying you candy!" "Your room's not even clean! Why should I reward you?" "You're making me insane!" "That's it. I'm running away." And my all time favorite, "Can I trade my kids for these groceries?"
Any trip through the checkout line incorporates all the above statements. Every time. Every single dadgumm time. And the guy buying a loaf of bread one register over snickers. The teenagers buying chips in front of me roll their eyes. And the little old lady with brown 'n serve rolls behind me gives me a pitying look.
So there I stand, positive I'm aging at least 10 years as I tell my kids for the 7,547th time I will not buy them candy.
So there. They can keep my sanity. I don't need it. And I'm not giving these little people candy!