That cop had no IDEA what he was getting himself into...

I took a bit of an unexpected blogging break.  Not that I meant to.  Just overwhelmed.  Last weekend, after finally starting to feel better, I had one last paper and my final to do for that class.  I also had planned make-overs for a friend and I, and Tony and I had a date night.  On top of running errands, doing laundry, etc.  Then, Tony went out of town on Monday, and I played single mom until he came back late on Friday.  During the week, I had little to no time to sit down, let alone read or write blogs.  Hence, the break.

It was a busy week though.  One particularly lovely day (Tuesday), I woke up with a swollen eye.  Now, I've had this happen before, when I learned that changing out your mascara should happen more than once a year.  Basically, my lids were swollen, and almost closed on my right eye.  The only explanation I had for this was that I used an old night cream trying to counteract the extreme dryness of my skin.

Why did I have extreme dryness?  Well, when going to get our makeovers, I noted that I had picked up some skin care items a couple months before, and that I had been having breakouts since then.  More than usual.  We found out that the lady had given me an oil based moisturizer that was causing these breakouts.  Unfortunately, the lady I saw last weekend took this an extra step further and gave me the acne products.  These acne products, after three days had severely dried my skin and my face was tight and tingly as well as having a swollen eye.

So, Tony was gone, my eye was swollen, and I hadn't slept much.  Mostly because Mia kept coughing and screaming during the night, but also because Tony wasn't there.  So every sound needed to be analyzed and a decision needed to be made as to the necessity of pulling the bat out from under my bed and exploring every.  Single. Noise.

I woke up late - but wasn't super worried about it.  I was working from home that day, and just needed to get Olivia to day care.  Day care is only 5 minutes away from us.  I woke up late, and the girls got up late.  Olivia wanted to wear a skirt.  We had to argue about what she should wear with said skirt.  I had to explain seven times that a t-shirt would not look good with a sweater skirt, not to mention it was between 20 and 30 degrees, so I wanted her to wear something warmer.  Finally, she wore something that was suitable and made it downstairs.  She had to make her lunch because she's been lying to her teachers and scheming hot lunches.  Then, we would get billed for this.  I had to call the teacher and the lunch lady to tell them not to let her have hot lunches any longer.  Olivia proceeded to take 20 minutes to make her lunch, which consisted of a cheese sandwich, bag of chips, package of carrots with ranch dressing and bottle of Gatorade.  Seems like it should take 20 minutes right?

Now, we're running late for me to log in and begin work on time.  We leave and make it almost to Olivia's day care when she goes, "Oh!  I forgot my lunch!"  Great.  I turned around and drove back home to get her lunch.  

Now, we're really running late and on our way back, the buses are coming into the schools we pass on the way to day care.  I'm on a four-lane road, and there is a bus on my right and a stupid little car in front of me.  The bus and car stop to let five buses get into the school parking lot.  I'm getting more and more stressed, so when these guys finally move again, I get around the car and move up to the posted speed limit of 40.  

That's when I see him.  The cop.  Just waiting.  "Oh crap!" I think.  "I didn't see the lights flashing.  I don't see kids.  Is it 20 or 40?"  I don't have time to slow any more before passing the cop, and he pulls out after me.  Double Crap on toast!

He turns on the lights and we both stop.  I fish out my license and tell Olivia this is her fault - she should have remembered her lunch!  The cop comes to the window and asks for my license and insurance.  He then says, "You know it's 20 in a school zone."

"I didn't see the lights flashing for 20."

"Did you come past both schools?"

"Yes I got stopped next to this bus that stopped to let in like 5 other buses and I didn't see the lights or any students and I'm taking my kid to her school but we're running late because she forgot her lunch and we came all the way out here and came back and our coming back again and I live over there and I always do 20 when I see those lights and I just didn't see the lights because I live over there and I always do 20 except this time when I didn't see the lights."  Yes, this entire run-on sentence coming from extreme dry skin, over make-upped, swollen eye crazy mom that is obviously stressed out.  I looked like I had Downs Syndrome - even more than I normally do.

He looked at my insurance card and said, "I'm going to let you go with a verbal warning.  It's 20 in a school zone."

Can you blame him?  What would you have thought pulling this over?

Later, when Olivia talked to Tony, she told him the police had finally caught me.  She has also made it a point to tell me the speed limit and to note when I speed.  Thanks, Olivia.  I'm still gonna speed, mostly because that's how I like to drive.

Would you like some cheese whith that whine?

It's almost 9 o'clock, and I'm in an AWESOME mood.  *Since you can't hear my tone, that's sarcasm*

Yesterday was Valentine's Day.  I'm sure that you know that unless you live under a rock, or with Jimmy Hoffa.  I have heard and read all about the wonderful stories of flowers, dates, love notes, etc floating out there on the blogosphere.  I saw the question posed - do you tell your significant other not to get you something, but still hope that you are surprised?

I had to laugh.  I tell my significant other EXACTLY what I want.  I point it out.  I say "I want this.  Here's a coupon."  I do everything except buy it for him.

I'm sure the excitement is built up.  What did she get?  I bet it was GREAT!  It's chocolate!  No, Jewelery!  No, a Tiara!  What is it, Tara?  We're dying to know!  (In my head, I have fans, and this is what they sound like.  Yes, my internal fan club gets me through exercising and child rearing, to name a few things).

I got a card.

Yep.

Is that what you asked for?

Nope.

Did you want to cry by the end of the day? Yes.  Just because of the card?  Nope - read on for a recap of the day, and you may see why the frustration is building internally and is trying to release via salty drops of fluid running down my face.

You see, my significant other and I see these little trifling holidays a bit differently.  I want to feel special.  I look forward to being surprised.  I want to be the center of  his attention (and maybe publicly as well.  Do I have a fame complex?  Please see above mention about internal fan club).  I want to feel as if the day is special because I'm in it with him, or that the day is special because I'm special.  (I just noticed that I overuse "special."  Maybe I am special, but in the short bus kind of way.)  But, my significant other doesn't get this way about holidays, or birthdays, or anniversaries.  He's ok just letting them go by with a quick mention - "Happy Valentine's Day" and a hug/kiss.  "Happy Anniversary."  "Happy Birthday."

For the most part, I'm ok with this as well.  Except for the milestone anniversaries or birthdays, or any Valentines' day.  For some reason, I just want more on this day.  I want to be important.  I want to feel like the day is slightly different than any other.

Just getting a card wouldn't have been that bad.  But, there have been a consistent turn of overwhelming/frustrating events that could have been wiped clean with some pretty flowers.  

I've been dealing with Olivia and lying and scamming and 8 year old craziness.  So, I had to call her school and tell them not to give her hot lunch because she scams them into getting a hot lunch and they bill me.  Wasting money on her lunch, twice (cold and hot lunch) is not my favorite thing.  Calling the school to talk to the teacher and lunch lady to tell them my kids a liar, is really NOT my favorite thing.  (I'm starting to understand why some species eat their young.)

Then, we had dance class.  Tony worked late (he does pretty much every day), and didn't meet us up at dance class, which is unusual.  So, I was on kid duty and Mia was ON STAGE, or at least pretending to be for everyone in the lobby of the dance class, twirling and telling about her pretty dress.  She even posed like one of the pictures of the dancers on the wall.  What a little ham.

I forgot, the morning started off well too, when the brats I had made the night before (so that all I would need is a reheat on dance night) were left out all night.  "Do you think they're still good?" asked Tony.  Um, no.  So, dinner was a wash.  We had 10 minutes to eat, and no one ate the turkey sausages I made.

Tony tried to be helpful and went to get me cold medicine on the way home.  But, they didn't have the kind I normally got, and the kind he brought home keeps me awake, so no cold medicine for me.  Did I mention I've been fighting the cold that Mia so graciously shared with me by coughing in my face for a week straight?

Then I got into a fight with my mom on the way home from dance class and went to bed alone.

Why, oh why am I still whining about this?  Because I need to write this out to feel better.  And, Tony decided to go out tonight with the guys.  He's still not home.  And, normally, I go grocery shopping on Wednesday afternoons to pick up enough stuff to get us to the weekend.  But, Sleeping Mia took a 4 hour nap today, and I didn't get to go.  So, tomorrow, as my week gets better, I will get to pick the girls up from school, then head to the grocery store, and probably some super healthy mickey-d's for dinner.  Yes!  *Again with the sarcasm*

At the end of the day, I know I'm whining.  I have a great husband (usually - apparently, he has his faults).  My mom is going to yell at me about this post because I am so lucky to have the husband I have (we all know you like him better than me, mom).  I am very blessed, but sometimes a girl would rather write a whiny blog and laugh about herself than to keep holding it in and making it worse than it needs to be.

As a reward for reading my whiny diatribe on my crappy few days which really could be so much worse, here are some fun pictures from the weekend.

He really is a great husband!  Don't listen to that whiny bitch up there!

nom nom nom.  Those cheeks might be tasty.

"I think my ponytails are AWESOME!"

Cutest. Picture.  Ever. 
"Please, mommy, can we have dessert?  Please?"

Bowling and psychoanalyzation...

Odd title.  I think so too.

Today, we went bowling.  It was Hannah's birthday party, and the first time that Mia has ever gone bowling.  Olivia loves bowling, as do Tony and I.

While Mia and Olivia did the party thing, Tony and I got to bowl.  Tony got four strikes in a row!

I got one strike!

I also tried to make Andy my bitch.  Andy is Tony's cousin.  He was not happy that I beat him the first game, at which point I told him that his loss made him my bitch.

He disagreed with this logic, and said I had to win two games for him to be my bitch.  It was ON!

I came in third in the second game, after Andy and Tony.  So, now Tony's back to being my bitch.  (I kid - he's my husband, and only moonlights as my bitch, wink wink).

Olivia with cheesy black light awesomeness for bowling.

Mia getting ready to bowl.

On to the psychoanalysis.

On our drive home, I was talking and Tony was pretending to listen.  After talking about a number of things, I came to the topic of my relationship with Olivia.

I worry about how Olivia and I interact.  Lately, it seems like we never get along.  I'm yelling, she's crying, and I am not sure what to do, or really why it's happening.

It gets on my nerves that she feels the need to touch me.  And she touches me in inappropriate places, or tries to jiggle my belly, or sticks her hands in my face.  This behavior bugs the crap out of me.  Also, she has a habit of talking in a high pitched voice like she's over happy about stuff, or baby talking.  And she gets overexcited and jumps and runs around all while being overly loud and sticking her hands in my face.

I know that I shouldn't let this stuff bother me.  But how do I teach her how to be herself?  How do I teach her about appropriate touching if she tries to run me over when she hugs, or tries to crawl in my lap?  She's 80 some-odd pounds.  Way too big to be on your or my lap.  I feel like every time I talk to her about this stuff, she either ignores me or ends up crying.

I am not out to hurt her feelings.  I do not want her to think that I don't want to hug her, or cuddle with her.  I am trying to show her how to do this in an appropriate manner and that personal space does matter.

Do I overreact because she looks older than she is?  I want her to be independent, and it irks me when she attaches so completely to me.  Am I responding to her physical age, and not her emotional age?  She looks like she's 10, but behaves like a 6-7 year old.  How can I remind myself to be aware of both her physical and emotional age?  How do I teach her to be aware of her physical age and strength?

I worry about her.  I worry about what I am doing to ruin the relationship that I have with her.  I love her so much, and I want to have a relationship with her as we both get older.  Even if she thinks I'm a crazy person, I want to be the one that she turns to when she needs help, guidance, someone to talk to, or just plain needs a hug.  I know that I won't be this person to her forever, and really do not want to trash the short amount of time that I have.

If any one's dealt with this type of situation, and has advice, I'm all ears.  Right now, I'm trying to be more aware of my reactions and to stop and think before I say or do anything with her when she is bugging me.  I am not good at hiding my emotions and am working on that as well.  I just want to make sure my daughter knows I love her for her faults and the annoyances as much as I do for when she makes me proud or when we have fun together.