Blame it on the foehn

I'm pretty laid back (really). Even if I'm feeling crazy, I can generally do a pretty good job of keeping a lid on it. Not today.

Today, I lost it.  I was a lunatic.  A mad woman. Certifiable. Maybe even possessed by demons. 

It all began so nicely...

A good night's sleep.  A nice chat in the morning with my husband.  I ironed for him.  Then I made homemade pancakes for the kids...this is probably where the problems began. Switzerland, just import the Bisquick, please. I'm begging you. I am sick of making homemade everything. I can live without drive thrus but can we just compromise on a few grocery staples? Bisquick, Aunt Jemina, frozen waffles- basically anything breakfast related. 

I mix away.  Only to hear the middle one complain about not liking pancakes. My snarkometer, which measures my capacity for teenage snarkiness, has just cranked up a degree.  We are on four now (one was left over from last night, two for waking up a teenager three times, three for homemade pancakes, four for "I don't like them"- danger zone begins at eight). We are still in the safe zone, though approaching "WARNING".  A long time ago, I had a job where the boss was notorious for being volatile. The secretaries all knew this and devised a push pin code to alert staff as to his current approachability. It was simple.; red, yellow, and green.  You were warned. Maybe I need the same system. 

A skirmish breaks out regarding the breakfast menu plan.  The second doesn't care for 'Fruit Thursdays', she wants 'Bagel Thursdays'.  My snarkometer creeps up a notch- we are at a five. Starbucks may enjoy their off menu shenanigans. I resent them.  If you go off menu, make it yourself. Sounds fair enough to me. 

I get to the car.  I'm putting on my seatbelt, selecting an iPod song for the ride only to see the second one having a fit that I am not pulling out of the space fast enough. I'm at six.

Pull out and wait for the first.  Seven.  He arrives. Forgets his homework. Skip eight. Straight to nine because now he has to go back in the house and he needs my keys to accomplish this. Now all three are late, I'm at a nine, and two and three are having meltdowns. He stands in front of the car so I can't leave without him (yes, I have in fact done that).  Whoomp there it is. TEN.

I vow horrible things, I threaten horrible things, I slam a car door. I stalk to the front door to let him in.  He comes back and gets in the car.  Tirade resumes. I pull out. And that's when I get a horrible reminder.

No, not that kids are precious. No, not that I will miss this when they move away. No, not that time is slipping through my fingers with them. None of that. I forgot we live in front of a bus stop.   I have four people staring at me. Their mouths are actually hanging open. I was Walmart crazy with witnesses.

Not sure how to recover from this morning. Except to maybe blame it on the foehn. Which isn't blowing. But might start. Anytime now. Based on my behavior.


  1. Jen - I love love LOVE this! this is SO my life! Kids complaining about the homecooked food, kids forgetting their homework, kids needing to go to the store now now NOW to buy some essential school thing they need, kids having used up all my scotch tape once again without telling me and now I'm left without any, kids kids KIDS... I can just see those Swiss people looking at you and wondering if they shouldn't intervene - like those old ladies who always felt compelled to intervene when they thought my kid wasn't bundled up well enough in the German winter, or when I'd cross the street on a red light with kids in tow because I'd realized the light was broken and would never turn green, and yet those people would give me a lecture on how I was setting a bad example... I can just totally see it. You might as well have worn a purple hat with crazy hair sticking out and sealed your reputation:-)

  2. Sine.... Ummm.... I was in my pajamas. Crazy hair and all. There! . Now the whole world has the complete picture.

    1. Ha! I missed the pajama part. Yep, you are probably now the stuff of Swiss legend.


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