Ten New Rights For Twenty-Ten

Winter break is officially over! Now that Doug is back at the office and the kids are out of the house and enjoying school's nurturing atmosphere, I can finally get back to my hobbies, which alternate between running around and running around maniacally. Since this is Minnesota and, for the next two months, the temperature will rarely crawl above 25 degrees, the running is pretty much limited to errands and kid-related crap. Once it gets nice out, though, I'll get busier and the crazy people will start to surface, pasty-white legs and all. In order to keep these outings as pleasant and stress-free as possible, I have decided that since I'm not making any New Year's resolutions, I needed some new rights.

1. If I am behind someone that is driving more than ten miles under the speed limit, weaving between lanes, failing to accelerate at a green light, sitting at a stop sign with no intention of proceeding, or basically being a shitty driver, and this person is obviously texting or talking while simultaneously trying to fetch French fries off of the car floor and shove a double cheeseburger into their mouth, I have the right to honk at them no fewer than five times. Gestures are also acceptable as long as there aren't any kids in the car with me.
2. When another shopper at Target or the grocery store repeatedly gets in my way, and they're talking on the phone, I have the right to say "Excuse me" in a voice louder than necessary, while simultaneously giving them a look that says: "You're an inconsiderate moron. Get off the fucking phone."
3. I have the right to not have to love all of my neighbors, especially the one that specializes in using loud yard equipment after 9pm.
4. If, while at the park, someone starts talking to me about potty training, ECFE, moms clubs, sleeping habits, or is bitching about their spouse, I have the right to say: "Those topics bore me. Go away." If, however, the person compliments me on my cute flip-flops, shares details about a little-known happy hour, or wants to rip on the mom who is talking about potty training, I have the right to ask her to move in with me.
5. If a teenager that doesn't belong to me shows up in my backyard at noon for the 16th day in a row this summer, I have the right to ask him where he's having lunch and say, "Sorry, but we're all out of food."
6. If someone gives me a backhanded compliment, I have the right to not always accept it gracefully and with a smile.
7. If a little kid with a giant booger hanging out of his nose asks me for help on the monkey bars while his mom sits her bib-overalled butt on the park bench talking about potty training, I have the right to say: "NO! I'm busy. Go ask your mom."
8. When some skinny bitch fishes for compliments by saying that she "looks fat" and is "getting lines around her eyes," or asks me, "Does this Brazilian-cut bikini make me look fat?" I have the right to agree with her and answer "Yes, it does."
9. If unattended kids are throwing fistfuls of rocks at the park, and my daughter is in the direct line of fire, I have the right to yell at someone else's unattended kids and/or throw rocks back.
10. I have the right to grill more steak, less chicken, and drink more vodka.

Feel free to add to this list of rights, or use some of them for yourself as needed. After all, sharing is fun, even though I always reserve the right to say "No, it's mine!"

It's Been Great, But...

I have a headache, and it's not because of a hangover, illness, or concussion. It's due to the extremely loud, piercing, bone-rattling ringing sound that only I am able to hear, which is the signal that quality time with my kids has come to an end. As much as I enjoy some time off, it makes me happy to know that in 96 hours I will have my schedule back. Even though there is a little more space in the house because the tree and gifts are put away, I can feel a hint of claustrophobia creeping into my spine and am actually craving being in my car, by myself. When someone needs something or asks me a question, my response is developing an impatient "Oh my holy hell for the love of God can you let me sit in silence for more than two fucking minutes" edge to it.

In an effort to keep the winter break as stress-free and nag-free as possible, I figured this wasn't the best time to expect huge strides in the self-sufficiency of teenage boys department. And since our house could often be referred to as Overindulged Kids Headquarters, I kept the past two-weeks as unscheduled as possible. I did throw in a couple tennis tournaments for the boys, just to make sure that their bodies didn't atrophy as much as their brains, and yesterday they managed to drag themselves out of bed by 9:00 (after I opened their doors and told them to get up) so that we could all go to breakfast, and then to the bookstore.

At the bookstore, they each had one gift to exchange, and they decided to pool their credit together and buy a 3-D globe puzzle. As soon as we got home, they ran to Charlie's room to put it together. I mentally patted myself on the back for the fact that, even at the tail-end of winter break, they were getting along so well and voluntarily hanging out together. Two minutes later, cooperation came to a grinding halt.

"Knock it off! Don't yell at me! It's not my fault!" Charlie yelled, using his I'm-about-to-turn-violent voice.

"What are you talking about? You're the one that took the box off the shelf. YOU obviously got the wrong one." Zach said, before opening the door, walking down the stairs, and saying: "Forget it. I'm not putting that thing together with him. It's the wrong puzzle, and he thinks I'm super mad that it's different than the one we thought we were getting. Really, though, I'm not mad, and I don't care. And I don't need to have puzzle pieces thrown at me."

That's funny. Here I was sure we had managed to bring our children home from the store, but somehow we acquired these giant, immature morons.

After both boys apologized for crimes that, when said aloud, sounded pathetically ridiculous (Charlie: "I'm sorry I threw puzzle pieces at you." Zach: "I'm sorry I yelled at you."), and I put the plastic bridle on Zoe's plastic Playmobil horse for the 16th time today, that's when the ringing began.

Some families have an Advent Calendar for the kids to count down the days until Christmas, rewarding them for each day of patience with a small toy or piece of candy. Maybe moms need a Winter Break Calendar to count down the days until the kids return to school. But instead of a small toy hidden behind each little door, our patience will be rewarded with a shot glass, or three.