Things I Need To Get Off My Chest (LONG) & Post-It Note Tuesday

(post-its are at the very bottom of this post if you feel the need to skip to the good stuff)

I've had this lump in my throat for days and it feels like all this stuff is brewing up inside of me and I've got nowhere to put it all so I'm putting it here because I know it will be safe with you.

It's been a rough and busy few days and as the holidays approach it's only going to get busier. I tend to feel overwhelmed and stressed out even though I always promise myself I'm going to do better. I'm still working on that, but I'm pretty sure this year won't the The Year for me.

Things got a little testy last Friday. Took the girls for haircuts at Great Clips, which we love. They do such an amazing job on my girls' hair. Check them out.

Anyway, they behaved really well, so I figured I'd reward them by taking them out for a little lunch. They were so excited. We headed to Governor Stumpy's, a local dive that serves good food at cheap prices, & is very family friendly. We've been numerous times before. We were seated in a booth after a short wait. Soon Izzy's lower lip began to protrude and the pouting began.

"Mommy, I don't WANNA sit in a booth. I want to sit at a table with chairs!" she wailed.

I calmly reasoned with her, explained that it was crowded (it was Friday at noon), and that the booth was our only option.

Loud sobbing begins. And it's real, not like that fake dramatic shit Abby typically pulls. There are tears and snot and she's sniveling and it's getting louder.

Oh, and she won't even sit down. Because she wants a CHAIR, not a booth. Perfect.

"Izzy, look what I have for you," I say, teasingly, as I start rooting for the candy that is somewhere in the bowels of my purse, only it's not and I suddenly remember I doled out the last lollipops during haircuts. Shit.

"What can I get you ladies today?" the waitress asks as she appears with crayons and place mats to color. I quickly order the girls each a milk and ask her to give us a few minutes. As I am pleading with Izzy to sit down and color, she returns with the milks. I secretly hope this will solve the problem or at least take the edge off. No such luck.

Izzy notices the top half of the straw wrapper is still on her straw (which the germophobe in me likes), which is stuck in her kiddie cup of milk. This only fuels her fire.

"I DON'T WANT A WRAPPER ON MY STRAW! I DON'T WANNA SIT IN THAT BOOTH!" Now people are starting to turn this way and that, twisting around in their chairs trying to figure out where all the racket is coming from.

She's being unreasonable. She is still standing up. Clearly she's tired. I guess the haircut was all she could handle today, but I was trying to play the good mom and do something special with and for them.

To make a long story short, I tried in vain to distract her, get her to color, have some milk, figure out what to order for lunch, but to no avail. She wasn't having it and she wasn't going to let me forget that she wanted a chair.

She got so loud I told her we were going to have to leave. She cried harder. I told her if she could calm down and get herself together, we could stay. She grew red faced and even more irritable. I knew we were down to seconds left on the clock.

I raked open my purse, thank God I had a $5 in my wallet, and I threw it on the table. I looked at Abby and quietly said, "We're leaving. Please bring your milk if you want and follow me out to the car."

I gathered my purse and every ounce of stamina left in me, grabbed my inconsolable child and tossed her under my arm. She completely let loose then. If people hadn't heard her before, their hearing aids must've been off. At this point every eye in the place is on me, and I look like the Mother From Hell who is dragging her poor child by her hair out of the restaurant. She is screaming at the top of her lungs, "I-DON'T-WANNA-GO, PUT ME DOWN, MOMMY!" I yell to a random server that we're leaving and I left our waitress some money for our milks on the table. He nods, and I can tell he by his silence he is grateful we're making our exit.

And a thousand eyes are burning into me. I am sweating and shaking and I'm so god damned mad I can hardly stand it. I'm a volcano about to erupt.

Erupt I do.

We get outside, I set Izzy down on the sidewalk, and I light into her, my voice high and cracking.

"WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU?" I yell. As soon as her feet touch the ground she's running. Running back to the door of Governor Stumpy's. She slams it open with one arm and has half of her little body inside before I can blink.

So if the whole scene hadn't already been bad enough, I had to go back in to grab her AGAIN and AGAIN drag her out.

All of this and we still haven't even eaten lunch. So I had to take them home and feed them. After lunch Izzy apologized to me in a shaky voice. And after that she took a nice nap.

Incidents this extreme are rare at our house. Yes, they are 3 years old, but...tantrums are not normally this awful. It shook me to the core. I handled it poorly, she was completely unreasonable, and I should have just skipped the lunch idea, period. But this set off something in me and I haven't been able to shake it. It's been a rocky couple of days since then, culminating in another episode this morning.

The girls were eating breakfast at the island/bar in out kitchen. Cereal, fruit, milk. Everything is fine, I hear chewing and gulping and the occasional little burp. I am making my own breakfast and the dog's and suddenly we hear a loud crash and Izzy's on the floor, her bowl of cereal on its side dripping milk and contents onto her head underneath. She's screaming.

She was fine, but it happened because she wasn't sitting properly on the bar stool and was bring typical "Izzy Busy," as we like to call her. Singing, talking, eating, bouncing around, and not really paying attention to the fact that she's on the edge of her seat. And she fell. Once she got over the initial shock, she realized milk was all over her. It wasn't that much, but she started crying again and insisted on ripping her pajamas off right then & there. So she ate the rest of her breakfast in her Hello Kitty panties. And I'm all like, whatever. At least she's eating and she stopped crying. And then I spend the next ten minutes mopping up the mess, only my floor is still sticky and I don't have the patience to mop it up again right now.

I am also stressed because I'm in charge of a kiddie Hanukkah event at our temple in a few weeks. I was supposed to be leading it with a friend, but she has something else going on that day, so it's down to me. I'm nervous. I have stuff planned, but....I'm freaking out. I have to make latkes, read them a Hanukkah story, plan activities, talk about Hanukkah/menorahs/dreidels and the significance of everything (but this is geared towards kids 5 & under, so it's not that difficult, but still I get nervous)....Oy vey! I know it will all work out, but....

And our anniversary is approaching. And the girls' birthday, too. And Thanksgiving just before with Hanukkah right behind. And then I am getting on a plane by myself with the girls to take them on a trip to New Orleans during Christmas week since Hubby will be here on double ER call. That is intimidating to me too, but I think I should just resolve to get completely drunk on the plane and everything that happens will just roll right off my back, like water off a duck. Right?!?!!?

Whew. I feel a little better now. So on with post-its!!!