Caution

Jack had his end of the year parent teacher meeting a few weeks ago. The kid's doing just fine in case you were worried. His teacher says he's often passive in conflict situations, and we should allow him to solve more of his own problems. You know, to build confidence in this arena. I know she means, let him punch a kid in the face once of twice for taking his toy, just to see what happens. But I figure it's good for him to be more autonomous in other areas too. So I've been trying to get him to get himself dressed, pick his own clothes, blah, blah, blah. He's a boy, so 90% of the time he doesn't care what he wears. My friends with girls say outfit changing happens 3-100 times a day. Around here, we're lucky if we can get him out of his jammies. "Why would I take off these super comfortable clothes to put on other clothes just to play?" He's right too, but SOMEONE around here is a stickler for the rules and not walking around looking like a hobo. Hint: it's not me. 


To that end, I took him with me to get some things he needed for school. This is what happens when you let a four year old pick out his own water shoes: 

This makes me question if he's actually my child. My eyes are burning from their hideousness. And of course he wants to wear them every day now. ALL THE TIME. FML. (that was for you Nipper Knapp). He might as well have just punched me in the face. 

Oh my toe! The one where I don't even tell you what happened to my toe, it was THAT BAD.

Yesterday was the worst day of my life. Worse than the day my dad told me my parents were getting divorced, worse than the day my grandma passed away, worse than the day my egomaniac boyfriend told me he had taken his ex-girlfriend to New Zealand with his family over Christmas vacation for two weeks, after we'd been dating for over a year, worse than the day... Ok, ok, you get it, yesterday was bad. Maybe not as bad as all those days. Maybe that's hyperbole, but it was pretty bad. Not a memorable day. Not one I'll be able to pick out of the other 365 when I think back on this year. But one of those days that makes you lay in bed and fantasize about emptying your bank accounts to take the whole family away with a full time nanny and a masseuse to Hawaii for 2 weeks. That might cure the shit day that was yesterday. 

It began normally enough. I woke up. I had two kids, a house, a husband, I felt like I was coming down with a cold, and I had no real plans. I suggested we go to get pizza for lunch after Jack's swim class, since Nipper didn't have to be at his first audition until 1:45. Sounded like a good idea, until Jack SOBBED when Nip told him we were going to get pizza instead of my original idea of picking up In&out burgers, which we've eaten so many times this week I'm actually ashamed. (that number should be 1 time, but it's way, way, way, more). What kid cries when you tell him we're having pizza? My kid. You'd think I'd have said we were having brussels sprouts and liver. Jesus. Ok, note to self, more meals at home, and no more separate kids meals. Yeah right. I saw an expensive cookbook in a fancy store on La Brea last year that was about cooking for "picky" kids. Most of the recipes had stuff like shrimp and rutabagas in it. The book cost $45. This bitch obviously had never seen a child or a rutabaga in her life. It reminded me of the time I went to photograph a piece for a magazine a few years back. This Pacific Palisades socialite had written a book on table manners, and how to set a table. We were shooting at her parents bajillion dollar house in Malibu canyon. And...I shit you not, when I got there, she had me set the table for the shoot because she didn't know where the utensils were supposed to go. But I do. I do, because I was raised in the midwest...here on EARTH. How do I live in this world without so much as a switchblade?! 


So fine, we go to pizza, but the only way we get Jack there is to say he can play with Nipper's iphone when we get there. "Is this really a good idea anymore", I'm wondering as I stuff pizza in my mouth as fast as I can because Nipper is holding the baby because he was too hot in stroller and started to cry as soon as we got there. I mean if one kid won't eat the pizza and won't take his eyes off the fucking iphone, and the other one is dying of heat stroke so one parent has to forego eating and just bounce and coo like a dumb dumb, are we really having "family pizza"? IS this what a meal together has come down to? I have lost the war...

I find myself thinking these battle/war questions all the time. I want us all to eat around the table all together more often. I also want to eat a meal without saying "can you take a bite" and "can you please sit down" 17,821 times. I also want to eat at home more, but our schedules seem to drive us all out of the house at different times, and Nipper and I are never ready for dinner at 5:30-6 when Jack is having his, so... Lunch, that's it. I have 4 opportunities a week for us to have a meal together and it's lunch. Starting in September when Jack is in school 4 days a week, I'll have 3. You'd think I could make that happen, but no, and one kid is only a baby! 


So as I'm shoveling in the pizza, and having this argument in my head, the day is unfolding. Nipper is going to take Jack to his 3 auditions because we no longer have a babysitter (10 million word blogpost brewing in my head about that situation). He has promised him he can play games on the ipad, which is like telling a junkie he can have a wheelbarrow of crack. He's in. He woke up at 5am again and was out of his mind tired, so I offered to take him home with me and Charlie instead of being dragged around to work with daddy. NO WAY. He was going to get to smoke some serious ipad, why the hell would he want to go home with me and REST?! Narc. 


So off they go. I return home with Charlie, my throat now on fire from the beginnings of this cold. I'm praying for a nap. The boys won't be home for 5 hours. Surely at some point the baby will sleep and I will close my eyes when he does. Hahahahaha. Stupid woman. Don't you know, you should have kept that hope a secret, even from yourself? Of course Charlie doesn't sleep, and of course Nipper texts me from his 2nd audition that Jack has dropped the iPad, and smashed it to pieces. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. 


Jack is devastated. He can't stop crying. Nipper is pissed, but trying to console Jack. It was an accident. I'm now, sick, tired, mad, sad, trying to tell Nip to not be too hard on Jack, and Nip is texting me that Jack is inconsolable, and he sort of wishes that it hadn't been an accident, because he's so mad, but obviously not at Jack, and... You see where this is going. How can you be mad at a 4 year old when he breaks your $800 toy. You're the grown up who gave it to him. Dumb dumbs... I tell him that I'm going to give him a big hug when he gets home and I wait.


Well obviously, Charlie falls into a deep sleep 20 minutes before they get back around dinner time. I'm too fried to even get irritated at this point. I lay on the couch with my eyes opening and closing involuntarily. Watching my baby sleep, wishing for sleep myself. Listening for the car door slam, so I can get up and hug Jack as soon as he gets here. 


I made an appointment for Nipper to take the iPad to the apple store at 8:50pm. Thank the "geniuses" at the "genius bar" for having late appointments. Figured we might as well find out the extent of the damage ($) as soon as possible. ($419 in case you were wondering, and they just give you a new one. So now we have a $1200 iPad) Also figured both kids would be in bed. MARIJA ARE YOU REALLY THAT STUPID? The universe had a good laugh at my expense yesterday. 

Because Jack was so sad and sleepy and shaky, I told him, he and I could crawl into my bed and watch a movie and have popcorn after I put Charlie down, and daddy left for the apple store. Because you know Charlie has gone to bed at 7 every night for weeks. No problem. But guess what? They were both up until 9:45 last night. 9 forty fucking 5. For those of you without kids, you might be thinking "big deal". But 9:45 is the parent equivalent of 4:18am to you. I need that extra hour or so at night. I need it to clean the house, write emails, watch R rated tv, talk to Nipper about everyone we hate, and just stare into space. Oh, and I was sick. so... Boo-fucking-hoo. 


Poor Jack was so patient as I kept getting up from our movie, and then from our bedtime books to try to rock Charlie, pacify Charlie, and finally nurse Charlie back to sleep. He finally gave up on mommy and fell asleep looking at Pinocchio. Poor baby. He asked me as I was getting up out of the bed for the last time "mommy, when is Charlie going to be a big boy?". Sob...

Oh and don't worry, I was positive, sweet, and patient, with the kids the whole time, lest you think this post is about how I lost it. I was texting Nipper stuff like "FML" and "FUCK THIS WHOLE FUCKING DAY". But the kids, well, the one who is conscious, and most likely to remember this day, will only remember that we laid in bed and watched Pinocchio while mommy tried to get that his rascally baby brother to sleep. Because fuck all if I'm going to turn my day from hell, into theirs. 


I'd tell you about how Jack ended up in our bed, and because I was worried about him getting enough sleep I got up (now fully sick) and took Charlie, who sounds like a badger when he nurses, into Jack's room to nurse, and tried to go back to sleep at 5:45am, only to lay there, with Charlie only being happy to sleep ON ME, until my arms fell asleep around 7am. But I'm too tired. 


Oh and yeah, I wrote this post yesterday but forgot to post it because I was brain dead. In better news, Jack rode his bike, saw a lizard, had a "seaweed" popsicle, and I saw Midnight in Paris, which revived my hope for humanity. I also had a dream that apple started making iphones in jadite green. SO... one day up, one day down...