Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good day for me, and eventually for the girls, as well.
It all started at babiesrus.
First, I have to say I was already in a shit mood. So I was VERY susceptible to intense feelings of anger and upsetedness when provoked.
Ok. So we go through toysrus first. And knowing that it would be like torture for them to walk through there and not walk out without buying something, I let them look at toys as I browse around myself for a friend's birthday present and for their Christmas. Then we go next door to babiesrus, where they start getting a little punchy. Like, "oh, mom. It's so cute when you tell me to come over there and stay with you. But I'm going to stay here." Kind of punchy. Not a too big deal. I'm getting pissed, but I take a deep breath and marvel at how much cuter strollers and bedding sets have gotten since S. was born.
In the feeding aisle, A. is trying to push the cart, and S. hops on the side for a ride. I'm not holding onto the cart. I'm contemplating adding a bottle sterilizer from my friend's registry to the cart. But then there's this flash of silver and pink, along with a crash, and I look down to see the cart had fallen sideways on top of S. Now I'm pissed. Because by then I had told them both, numerous times, to stay off the cart. So I pick the cart up off of S. and make sure she's ok, before I convey my displeasure at their behavior. "I'm going to be good, mama" they both plead. "Sure." I say.
After finishing up at babies/toysrus, we head to the commissary. Even though it's payday. And the slow-as-molasses loonies who lack any kind of situational awareness at all, will be there. Because they always are. Especially on or the days before and after payday. But we desperately need food. And Capri-Suns are $3 cheaper there than they are at Safeway (among other things). So we go. They start out in the cart, but eventually I let them loose. I'm not sure why. I think it was because they were quieter on their feet than they were in the cart and I had a headache (again). So we're bobbing and weaving throughout the aisles and grabbing the items on the list, and then some. During this time, these kids of mine thought that hiding behind pallet displays was the cool thing to do. And also that, when I told them to come on, I was probably just kidding and didn't want them close to me, after all. We leave the commissary and I'm even more pissed.
"You better be good or no one will be trick-or-treating tonight!" I yelled once we were strapped in the car. Pitiful cries of, "no, mama, no! We're going to be good!" touch my ears as I drive out of the parking lot and across the street. "Mmmhmmm." I reply.
We go across the street to the bx. More specifically, to the Starbucks in the bx mall. Because I really need a Pumpkin Spice latte, and it's payday, so I have spending money again. It is the salve that soothes the savage beast that becomes me at times like that. While I'm ordering, A. tells me she's thirsty, so I also ask for a cup of water.
A.: "But I want chocolate milk." She whines.
Me: "We have chocolate milk in the car. You can have some when we get home."
A.: "But I'm thirsty."
Me: "I'm getting water." I replied, and then turned to the poor barista who would soon be caught in the cross-fire of impending doom.
As I'm paying I turn to see the kids, who are standing in front of the display drink fridge next to the register. Right then I catch S., with an organic apple juice box in her hand, the little yellow straw in the other- just in time to see her poke at the little seal. "No!" I yelled, and grabbed it from her. Upon inspection, she barely made a dent in the seal, but the straw was already open and had been handled by her grubby little 3 year old fingers. Grrrrr. I put it down in front of the register and tell the barista that I'll need to buy that. The poor girl apologized to me for my kid practically stealing the juice box! I told her not to worry about it, that it wasn't her fault. By the time I got my coffee and we were on the way home, I was LIVID!
Me: "NO ONE IS LEAVING THE HOUSE TONIGHT. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU WON'T BE TRICK-OR-TREATING TONIGHT!"
(wails from the back)
Girls: "Nooooooooooooooo. I'm going to be good!"
Me: "You had your chance to be good and you blew it. You're staying home."
(more wailing and gnashing of teeth- all the way home)
Once we were home, I did something I swore I would NEVER do. I called dh at work to talk to the girls. During that 20 minute ride home I began to think that he might have some idea as to how they could redeem themselves and earn back their Halloween, even though I was still so outraged I couldn't even think. I gave him a brief run-down of the afternoon, he tries to calm me down, then asks to talk to A. and they strike a deal. If she & S. will clean up their room and the dining table, and be good for the rest of the afternoon, they can go. A. promises her dad that she will comply, and after handing me the phone back, gets her sister and starts cleaning up. I say good-bye and hang up the phone.
And they did what they were told, and things were looking promising when, about two hours later (approximately 3 pm, Tucson time), I hear this strange noise coming from behind my chair in the office. This cannot be good. I thought to myself as I got up. I had no idea how NOT-GOOD it actually was until I saw snips of yellow yarn-cabbage patch doll hair strewn about behind my chair. The poor fabricky, yarny, un-named victim lay sprawled near the cut pieces of hair. The cutter- a.k.a. A.- sat on her knees, scissors laced between her fingers and looked up at me. I went blind with rage. The I-don't-care-if-the-neighbors-hear-me-screaming kind of rage.
Me: "What are you doing? What the hell do you think you are doing?"
A. stumbles for an answer while I get her dad back on the phone.
As I'm telling him how there "DEFINITELY will be NO TRICK-OR-TREATING tonight", I see S. out of the corner of my eye. I look at her, and HER HAIR IS ALL GONE!!! Truly. She had long brown hair that fell into soft curls mid-back, and now there was nothing below her shoulders. I screamed, then I cried. Right there, forgetting I was still on the phone with dh, and I screamed and cried. After a few seconds I was able to get myself together enough to tell him that S. was now missing inches of hair off of her head. I don't even know where A. got the scissors from!! After watching her get snip-happy (under our supervision) the night before and cutting construction paper into tiny shreds, we told her she couldn't ever use them without asking us, and then I went and round up all the scissors we had in the house and hid them. Or so I thought, but apparently not.
Once I get off the phone, I scream at A., demanding to know why she cut her sister's hair. "Because she wanted me to." She answered. "She's 3, A.! 3! You DO NOT CUT HER HAIR without talking to me or daddy first, do you understand?" I yelled. And in case she misheard me before, I remind her that she has just lost trick-or-treating privileges. I didn't tell her this, but I wanted to add Christmas in there, too. No Halloween; no dress up and no candy, and no Christmas; no hunting for Santa Claus and opening presents. Because there would be no presents for her from Santa or anyone. But I held my tongue on that and went to vacuum S.'s hair off of the living room floor.
By the time dh got home, I was calm- er. Meaning that I had taken a sedative (per dr.'s instructions earlier that afternoon, coincidentally) and talked to my sister.
We talked, then I brought A. out so she could talk to him, and then sent her back and went into our room to discuss what we were going to do.
We finally decided not to take Halloween away. Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't have bothered me one iota to keep them home. It was a drastic way to set an example, but at this point I felt desperate times needed desperate measures. But after thinking about it, I realized I didn't really want to take away something irreplaceable. Her 4th Halloween would only come once in her life. After tomorrow, it would be gone. So we decided she could go trick-or-treating (I would even let her keep the candy, which I definitely wasn't going to do), but in exchange, we were taking all of her toys out of her room and she would spend all day today in her bedroom. She could come out to potty and eat, and that was it. She agreed to the conditions of her sentencing and we got ready to meet friends we had planned to collect candy with.
The rest of the evening went nicely (for ALL of us) and the girls got to go door-to-door asking for candy with their friends (another princess and a mermaid. A. was also a princess –for the second time, and S. was a witch).
Now that all is said and done, I learned a few things:
I hate to admit it, but A. actually didn't to a terrible job with her sisters's hair. It was at least cut in a way that was mostly salvageable. It pretty much just looks like we got her some trendy pixie hair cut, where edges are meant to be uneven and funky.
3- I suppose they're not getting enough supervision.
One minute they were watching tv, the next minute I catch A. playing "Edward Scissor Hands", but with real scissors, and on her sister. Who knew.
Just for context, S. before:
1 comment:
bloggy bloggy, where is the next bloggy? Only 2 hours left....quitting on the 2nd day? Really?
Oh and I love the trade off of no toys, but you can have candy. that's priceless. I hope it worked.
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