Wednesday, August 9, 2017

What rhymes with "frog"? Blog!

Hi. I just read that there's a type of frog in South America called the Horned Marsupial Frog. In this species, the mom froggy carries her young not only on top of her, but her babies actually live underneath the top layer of her back and she is apparently expected to live her life like this until the tadpoles grow up and move on.

 And that's pretty much what the last week before school starts feels like. I can think of no better visual than this, honestly. After the last couple weeks of being breathed on incessantly, and so creepily stared at by my newly over-curious eight-year-old daughter while I shower (she may as well be peering through my window from a tree through a pair of binoculars) , and spending a combined thirty-seven hours marinating in kid car-farts, I feel a bit like my beloved children are actually nestled under the third or fourth layer of my epidermis. Wherever I go, they're there. Whatever water I drink, they can't live another second without putting their mouths on. If string cheese is being eaten, they're chewing it one centimeter from my ear. They're both actually staring at me right now as I type this, I mean it.

We had a whirlwind of a day- as I was getting ready to take my all-natural Xanax (yoga class) I get a text from my insanely cranky husband that someone is coming to look at the house. He's been especially difficult this week. Like a mixture of Veruca Salt and the other impatient one that turns into a giant blueberry … but also actually mostly the sassy little guy that watches too much TV. Oh and, yes, our house is on the market, I'll explain later.

Well. Wait. Lemme rewind. As I was getting ready to take my liquid Xanax (coffee) first thing in the morning, Landon walked downstairs, hair disheveled, with the most genuine, adorable smile on his face. He looked so sweet. Like a sleepy little angel boy. I thought he was preparing to tell me he dreamt about how pretty I was all night long and couldn't wait one more second to see my beautiful face. But, nope, he just rubbed his fist into his eye as he morning voiced, "mom, I peed the bed." To which I responded, "...then why the hell do you look so happy about it?!" And he genuinely didn't know. The emotion was so eerily mismatched to the situation, honestly I think he might be a sociopath, idk. Anyway, that's when I got the text about showing the house. And that's when my apparent Spidey sense kicked in and I could then clearly see every speck of dust as it wafted by. Needless to say fifteen minutes later I was sweating and laundering and scrubbing a fucking mattress and shoving piles of new school supplies into closets.

So I had to miss my class. Then it was time to disappear with the kids as soon as everything was tidied because Landon is a rapper in a music video and his Legos are hundred dollar bills, and he loves to constantly make it rain. So off we went to a play gym that they'd been begging to go to for months. Rest assured, it's the absolute worst… but I had to prep my classes for the night so I obliged. We arrive, pay too much, and within five minutes Avery gets hurt. I'm coddling and doing the mom thing. Then another five minutes go by and Landon gets a fat, bloody lip because HE KNEED HIMSELF IN THE FACE. More mom things. He appears twelve more times to drink water/stare into my soul, and another few minutes later Avery comes and plops down next to me and tells me she's "bored" to which I respond she'd better march right back into that colorful wall-padded booger asylum before I make her sleep outside for a week. She stormed off and, get this, promptly went down the slide with theeee most aggressive frown I've ever seen. Have you ever seen someone frown while going down a slide? Lemme tell ya, it's the most ridiculous thing you've ever seen. She even had her arms crossed. What a fool.

Anyway, all they really want to do is zip me open and wear me as their own personal mom suit. I mean, I guess it's endearing, but good lawd sometimes I need space to think about how I'm going to articulate to a room full of adults that they can't depend on anyone for happiness, fulfillment, or to bring their dirty plates to the sink for them, ya know?  

After a few hours of dealing with all-a-dat I got the okay to return home. By the time we get back, I have approximately negative thirteen seconds to rest before leaving to teach back-to-back yoga classes, but I'm frankly looking forward to the seven minute quiet drive to the gym. And on my way out, I walk past the kids who are sitting quietly. I'm a bit jarred to see them sitting on the floor looking so peaceful, so I am compelled to ask, "What are you guys doing?," and my angelface daughter says, "Oh, we were playing 'family'. But now we're taking a break... Sometimes we just need breaks when we play 'family'."

Oh, honey. Yes. Sometimes we do. Sometimes we really, really do.

In conclusion, to all the weighed down South American frog-moms out there in the rainforest or whatever- hang in there. Your kids aren't the only ones getting under your skin. And to all the North American soccer moms waiting patiently for school to begin, there's always Summer Break Xanax (actual Xanax).

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