Well today was filled with whining, a little crying, and a lot of funny.
I invited a friend of mine to bring her kids down for the afternoon so we could all go to the zoo together. Her kids are friends with my kids, and since we had just moved…I thought it would be nice for them to get together again.
My first mistake of the day was to schedule our zoo trip during ‘nap time’.
Any parent who has a child who still naps knows the possible, and probable outcome of such a catastrophic decision.
Still…I figured the zoo would hold enough entertainment for the kids that this wouldn’t be an issue.
I’m giggling as I write this and shaking my head in amusement “When will I learn that there is no amount of ‘fun’ that is enough to counteract lost nap time?” :S
Two of the kiddies were six, and the other two were five and four. Let’s just say the zoo trip was less than amusing.
I wonder sometimes why we parents do this to ourselves.
I mean really…how much fun are our kids actually having in relation to the amount of whining and fussing that goes on during these mid-day, swelteringly hot trips? Is it even worth it?
Some say yes…others are currently occupying mad houses strapped tightly in wonderful white jackets as they rock back and forth muttering “Why? Why?” over and over again while their doctors ‘tsk’ over their complete stupidity and utter lack of self-preservation.
I choose to believe the ‘yes-sayers’ are in fact the insane ones who have absolutely no idea that they have no control whatsoever over their children and just let their darling kids run amok. Or…their kids are actually alien creatures sent to earth to mimic real children but who, in their eagerness to prove they can do the job, completely missed the fact that real human children come with screams that can shatter eardrums on a good day, and whines that can drive even the most staunch atheists to church to beg God to please, PLEASE remove their voice boxes for just five minutes…just…five…freaking…minutes!!!!
Now for those of you who don’t know, I was born in Trinidad and lived there until I was thirteen. Not much of my accent survived the years, but if:
A…I’m talking to a Trinidadian
B…I’m in a state of…un-soberness
C…I’m talking to my grandfather who has dementia (haven’t figured out why yet)
or D…I’m angry or annoyed…
the result is that I end up with a Trinidadian accent.
I have absolutely no idea what goes through my brain at these moments to bring this long forgotten accent out of hiding, but it pops up from time to time, surprising my children into quietness as they look at me strangely, wondering if mommy is playing a game or they are really getting in trouble this time.
We were on the way home from the zoo when there was whining from the backseat from my overtired darlings.
My sixteen year old had gone with us and was sitting in the front seat.
I guess she realized that I was about to go insane because she turned around and said firmly…with absolutely no trace of humor in her voice…
“You girls better stop right now or mommy is going to whip out her accent!”
I swear I laughed for the next ten minutes…and so did the girls.
God I love my children.