I remember like it was yesterday. A couple of months ago, I had, “one of those days,” and I taught my preschooler every swear word I know. In the matter of minutes, my little guy met my inner Jersey girl. Let me explain…
#1 Holy Shit
So, it was a Monday, of course. Well, just like any Monday, my household was in a whirlwind. After rushing my eldest out of the door and onto the bus, I got back into my car and looked at my little one. He was so cute and innocent, all ready for school with his Spiderman lunch box and Spiderman backpack. All of a sudden, I remembered it was his freakin SNACK DAY!?!
(You know snack day, right? The day that three years olds wait weeks, maybe even a month, to be the “special” kiddo for the day. That day my little guy was going to bring his friends a healthful snack, and then he’d get to be the line leader for the day. Every kid’s dream.)
After realizing the super importance of the day, I screamed, “Holy shit!” It was an impulse and, of course, I usually try to contain this kind of transgression.
“Holy shit,” he replied in his little three-year-old voice so cute that I had to contain a giggle.
“Oh, no, Honey, Mommy didn’t mean that. We shouldn’t say bad words. I’m very sorry,” I said.
“OK, Mommy,” he said, “no bad words.”
Phew, I was forgiven. I thought, “I really have to work on not blurting bad words in front of this kid.”
Just like that, I remembered that we had a mission. I wasn’t going to let some poor planning ruin my little guy’s special day. No way! And off to the grocery store we went, so we could pick up the snack before we got to school. His school started at 9 a.m., and it was about 8:30 a.m. when we left. I was sure that we could still pull off Snack Day without a hitch.
#2 Goddamn It
I’ve always prided myself in being a good mom. You know, I cared about the happiness, health, and well being of my kiddos and all their little kiddo buddies. As a rule, the snacks that we have brought into school for Snack Day have been Gluten Free, Dye Free, Peanut Free, and just plain gross. (Lol, Just Kidding on the gross, I couldn’t resist it when I wrote the “free” list. Poor Kids, in my day, we all got jacked up on cupcakes and Hawaiian Punch; they don’t know what they’re missing.) Anyway, we always brought cheese sticks (not lactose free, unfortunately) and grapes in for snack day. I usually got this snack at Aldi’s, because it was more affordable, than Wegmans. (Ten bucks is a reasonable spend on snack day, in my opinion. This grape and cheese snack usually brings me right to that number at Aldi’s.)
When I pulled into the Aldi’s parking lot at 8:42 a.m., no one was there.
“Good,” I thought, “this will be quick, because no one is here yet.”
I grabbed my three year old out of the car and hurried to the store and the door didn’t open. I looked up, wondering why the stupid door wouldn’t budge, and realized that the store was still closed. They opened at 9 a.m.
“Goddamn It! Ahhh!” I yelled quickly towing my three year old sideways back to the car on his very super special Snack Day!
Then my little one whined, “Mommy, where’s my snack. It’s snack day; I get grapes.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Buddy, that store is closed. We’ll, go to Wegmans, instead. Buckle up.”
“The store’s closed? Goddamn it,” he said.
“Oh no, no, no, buddy, that’s not nice. Please don’t say bad words like that, especially not that one. That is the worst one, and we will not be saying that, OK?” I buckled him in and shut the door. “I’m going to get the Mother of the Year Award this year for sure!” I thought. I opened the door and got into my seat. I looked up in my mirror and saw his cute little face, as he stared right back at me.
“OK, Mommy. Where’s my snack?” he said.
#3 Fuck, et al.
After a fast deep-breathing exercise, and a quick drive over to the store, we pulled into the Wegmans parking lot at 8:46 a.m.
“OK,” I thought. “We’ve still got this,” I repeated to myself over and over again in a rushed tone. I grabbed my preschooler, and we headed into the store. (BTW, thank you, Wegmans, for holding respectable business hours.)
When we got inside, I took one look at the grapes at $4/pound and decided I needed to quickly reconsider my whole “I want to keep every kid, with every dietary restriction, happy philosophy.” I was not going to spend over $20 on snack day. So, Goldfish it was to my little guy’s satisfaction. He was sure that his classmates would approve of his offering to the Snack Gods.
We purchased one of those giant milk cartons of the orange snack and headed back to our car. I got the kid strapped in and got myself buckled up, I looked at the clock. It was 8:55 a.m. If I drove like the wind (I don’t speed, mind you, I’m from Jersey and never learned how…), we could still make it on time. We could walk in, and I could pretend that I am one of those put-together moms, who has everything under control. One more deep breath, and I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.
“What?” I thought. I was confused. Did my car just not start!?!
I tried again. Nothing.
“Come on, Mommy! Have to go to school,” the little one yells, “Hurry up!”
I look all over the place for an answer, while feverishly trying to turn the key over and over again. What the hell was going on? And there it was on my dashboard… The digital warning read, “Bad Key.”
“Are you kidding me,” I questioned?
“Bad key? What the fuck does that mean?” I yelled.
I tried the key over and over again. My little one got anxious in the back seat. No wonder, the car wasn’t moving, and Mommy was losing her freaking mind up front. Truthfully, I don’t even remember what he said, because I momentarily lost my mind.
How the hell was I going to 1) get my kid to school and still let him feel some semblance of the “Snack Day” amazingness? 2) make sure that no other work-from-home/stay-at-home mom in town saw me losing my mind in the Wegmans parking lot? (Remember this is 9 a.m. we’re talking about on Monday. They all just dropped their kids off at school and were making their way into the store at any minute.); and 3) get my car on the road again?
And then things got worse. My car alarm went off. I. Shit. You. Not. And I couldn’t get it off.
“Son of a BITCH!?! What on God’s Green Earth did I do to the FUCKING universe today to deserve this?” I lamented.
And then it stopped. Oh, good.
“Mommy, are you OK?” a little voice chirped at me, which momentarily brought me back to sanity.
“Oh. Oh, buddy, Mommy’s OK. It’s just that mommy’s car is broken,” and the tears started flowing. “Crap, crap crap! my freaking makeup’s gonna look great now. Hey friends, I sell this awesome mascara, want to buy some?” I said while trying to wipe up the black streaks under my eyes. Deep breath.
Maybe the car will turn over, if I tried again. Nothing. I tried another time. Nope. And, what happened next? Oh, YAY, the alarm started going off again! (This moment right here is why wine with 1¢ shipping and day spas exist.)
And then it happened, every single bad word that I know came out of my mouth.
“Shit, fuck, goddamn it, you mother fucker, you cock sucker, you are one little bitch, dick head, fart troll, poop, shiza, shithead, douche bag, etc.” You get the point, right? I was possessed. It was so bad that when people walked by my car, with the alarm blaring, they wondered whether or not to approach my car. No one approached me. Good call on their parts.
After I got it out, and I mean it ALL out, I called my husband, my father, and my roadside assistance company.
My husband came to our rescue, and, together, we got our little boy to school about 9:30. Thank God. Our preschooler, though a bit unhappy for being late, made his way into the classroom with his snack in hand.
I went out to the parking lot and got in my husband’s truck. I was a mess; thank God he married me. He has to love me when I’m like this, it’s the law! LOL. Later, with the help of my husband, dad, roadside assistance, and the local Chrysler dealer, I managed to get my car back on the road. It turned out that my car’s ignition had been recalled and that’s why it went berserk. I came out of the situation with a new ignition and two new keys for my car and the manufacturer paid for it all. Thank you, Chrysler!
Thankfully, Snack Day didn’t end up costing more than $10, after all. It could have gone really, really badly in terms of money for repairs.
By the time we got my car back on the road, it was time to pick up my little guy from school. When I got to school, he ran into my arms, smiled, and gave me a hug. I really needed that hug that day. I asked him about Snack Day, and he said it was great! He said he got to be the fucking line leader.
Hahaha! I’m just kidding you! No, he didn’t! He said, ” Mommy, the kids loved the Goldfish, and I was the leader.”
Cripes, what kind of mother do you think I am, anyway!?! 😉
I guess I’m the kind of mom who tries really hard to make it right for all the people around me, but sometimes it gets screwed up. No worries, though. It’s just like those stretch marks. I may be crazy, but I wear that crazy with pride. How about you? Are you a perfect mom or have you ever lost your mind in front of your kids? Did they turn into potty mouths or are they still little angels?
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