Don’t you hate it when you say something that comes across nowhere near what you meant? Or when you type something that may not be clear without closer inspection? That happened to me yesterday when it was rightfully pointed out that, for a second, it may have seemed that I regretted having the children. So after breaking out in immediate hives, I went back and re-read what I wrote and I can see how it could have been worded more clearly.
The editor responsible for yesterday’s post has been fired and replaced by a new one.
What I was trying to say was that after I welcomed our most beloved children, the ones for whom I proudly carry stretch marks, I regretted that I let the maid go.
Deep, deep regret at letting her go.
“Let’s have a moment of silence” kind of regret.
“Lost my girl, my dog, my truck” country song regret.
“Standing in the rain holding a boom box over my head begging her to come back” regret.
Glad we cleared that up.
Besides, if I had not had the children, I would have missed out on the magnificent odiousness brought to me by Baby C’s feet yesterday. Seriously, how in the world does a nine year old have feet like that? I had to ROLL THE WINDOWS DOWN they were so foul. I’m re-thinking the “Sure, you can wear your Crocs without socks!” rule. It was a rough ride home.
I also would have missed this gem of a question “Mom, do you think I’m old enough to establish a plan for a new toy aisle at Target?”
Sure, baby, knock yourself out.While you’re at it, do you have a plan for getting out of 3rd grade without having your mother committed to the psych ward?
The next hour was spent drawing scale models of the new Bionicle aisle (coming soon to a store near you), and somewhere I saw an agenda of items he intends to bring to the store manager’s attention next time we’re there. Oh, I’m so looking forward to seeing that manager’s face when the conversation takes place. I’ll be around the corner, pretending to use the self-scan price checker that hasn’t worked in three years. Or maybe I’ll REALLY be around the corner…. hiding out at Walmart.
And speaking of conversation, before I had time to set my hopes on overnight fame and fortune brought to us by my brilliant child selling his design rights to Target, those hopes were dashed by overhearing:
Child 1: “Hey, let’s ask Mom if she’ll take us to Pei Wei.”
Brilliant Child: “I don’t like Pei Wei. Teriyaki makes me hurl.”
Child 1: “But you like Chinese food. Why don’t you like Pei Wei?”
Brilliant Child: “I like Chinese food, but Pei Wei’s not Chinese. It’s Asian.”
Hard to argue with brilliance.
Have a nice day.