I’ve been somewhat spoiled by my mother in my adulthood. She has made more trips to San Diego from Phoenix to watch our monkey, Haydan, than I’ve made trips to In N’ Out the past six months. That’s impressive.
However, between the start of first grade which I’ve learned is a lot like freshman year of college (minus the alcohol) and winter break, I was about two steps away from putting myself into a self-induced coma, or a 5150 psychiatric hold.
My mom must have figured out how to use Facebook and could tell I was near placing myself in a mental institute, or she has telepathy because she and my dad decided to fly out to San Diego for the weekend to take Haydan.
‘We have a hotel with a heated pool and a spa, Ashley! She will love it!’
Great! She will be SO happy, Mom!
“I purchased her all types of great snacks from Trader Joe’s, I’ll feed her well!’
Awesome! You could feed her cat food at this point and I’d still be fine with you taking her!
“Do you and Justin want to grab dinner, the five of us, before we take her for the weekend?!”
UHM NO. You go on your merry way. We are good. We will eat cat food. We need a nap. Not just a ‘cat nap’, a real, 48-hour nap.
I don’t know how parents with more than one do this. I am tired, un-showered, and wearing make-up from two days ago.
If you haven’t read my prior post from this week, over the past two weeks she’s poured an entire box of cereal down her pants, answered the business phone screaming Angry Bird’s obscenities, and furthermore, started to question me about my menstrual cycle. She is seven.
I am thirty. I am still not ready to talk about my menstrual cycle with my own mother, let alone my seven year old.
So, for today, I am drinking mimosas, eating bacon, and searching Amazon for a dinosaur costume.
What are your thoughts on this one?
I hope you are having a happy weekend. I am!