Sorry I didn't blog yesterday. I wanted to blog, but around lunch I started feeling weird. By three o'clock I was feeling peutrid. By five o'clock things were happening that you do not - I repeat DO NOT - want to hear about. By night time, there was vomit. Too much information? Sorry. It's the price you pay for following my thoughts on a daily basis. They are strange and disgusting and sometimes inappropriate. And now as I am typing this, it is after midnight so technically it was day-before-yesterday, but whatevs.
Turnanator graduated from preschool tonight. That's it. He's a big boy now. He's off to real school. My heart is broken. He will be in school from now to the day he leaves me. Then he will find some other girl he likes better than me, and marry her, and move away, and never come visit me again because I smother them. I see this coming. I am that mother. I don't want to be a smother mother, but I am. I grew these kids in my womb. I have scars and rolls and veins to prove it. I feel like I deserve to kiss them in public, embarrass them, follow them around, make decisions for them, choose their mates, move them into a house in my back yard. Too much? Where was this going anyway?
Oh yeah, my baby graduated. It was cute and adorable. I was nervous. Turnanator does not do well in front of crowds. At. All. It stresses him out. He pretty much feels like everyone is looking at him and imagining him in his sister's pink frilly bloomers. In his mind they are all laughing and pointing and shouting obscenities (in reality they are parents and grandparents smiling politely). But he just gets nervous. Then the come-aparts begin. There is the whining - "I don't waaaaaant to do my program. I just caaaaaan't do my program. etc. etc.". Then the nervous behavior, twitching, wringing of hands, hiding in the backseat, and eventually, taking out his emotions on his brother. This is always where the trouble really goes down.
So tonight as I had to get everyone dressed and ready and cameras packed, bla bla bla, to get there on time because Aaron was going to meet us there, (insert jerky comment about how much he has to work followed by an apology about how thankful for his good job and health insurance I am) Turnanator is beginning to melt. By the time we got there the hands were wringing. When we got out of the truck, in his anxiety, my second boy shoves his brother. So what does his brother do? Picks this very exact moment in time to change his ways - abandon the crybaby, tattletale aproach he usually takes - and give a miniature retallitory (is that a word?) beatdown in the Methodist Church parking lot. So here we have it - a frazzled, still half-nauseated, sweating mother screaming at her *both* crying and angry and possibly bleeding boys while holding the camera, camcorded, diaper bag, and destruct-o-girl who was losing it to get down so as to run in front of a passing car.
Moral of this ridiculously drawn out story? My evening started out rough. But it got better soon. Turnanator chilled, my handsome baby daddy showed up, and my baby boy graduated preschool. He will be leaving for college soon. Also, I am already looking for a dress for the wedding.
Love ya' like kids in miniature caps and gowns,
Cassie
P.S. Because it was his special night, we let my graduate pick where we ate dinner. I'm leaving it up to you to guess which establishment of fine dining we visited this evening..........
Oh yeah, my baby graduated. It was cute and adorable. I was nervous. Turnanator does not do well in front of crowds. At. All. It stresses him out. He pretty much feels like everyone is looking at him and imagining him in his sister's pink frilly bloomers. In his mind they are all laughing and pointing and shouting obscenities (in reality they are parents and grandparents smiling politely). But he just gets nervous. Then the come-aparts begin. There is the whining - "I don't waaaaaant to do my program. I just caaaaaan't do my program. etc. etc.". Then the nervous behavior, twitching, wringing of hands, hiding in the backseat, and eventually, taking out his emotions on his brother. This is always where the trouble really goes down.
So tonight as I had to get everyone dressed and ready and cameras packed, bla bla bla, to get there on time because Aaron was going to meet us there, (insert jerky comment about how much he has to work followed by an apology about how thankful for his good job and health insurance I am) Turnanator is beginning to melt. By the time we got there the hands were wringing. When we got out of the truck, in his anxiety, my second boy shoves his brother. So what does his brother do? Picks this very exact moment in time to change his ways - abandon the crybaby, tattletale aproach he usually takes - and give a miniature retallitory (is that a word?) beatdown in the Methodist Church parking lot. So here we have it - a frazzled, still half-nauseated, sweating mother screaming at her *both* crying and angry and possibly bleeding boys while holding the camera, camcorded, diaper bag, and destruct-o-girl who was losing it to get down so as to run in front of a passing car.
Moral of this ridiculously drawn out story? My evening started out rough. But it got better soon. Turnanator chilled, my handsome baby daddy showed up, and my baby boy graduated preschool. He will be leaving for college soon. Also, I am already looking for a dress for the wedding.
Love ya' like kids in miniature caps and gowns,
Cassie
P.S. Because it was his special night, we let my graduate pick where we ate dinner. I'm leaving it up to you to guess which establishment of fine dining we visited this evening..........
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