Bad Mommy Karma broke my toe

Ugh. I could probably put today's events in the next month's worth of Mommy Moment's Monday, but why wait. I am SURE I will have fifty a few more by then. Anykarma, lets begin, shall we?


All was fine until hubby (really, kinda sick of calling him that, plus Stacie, who btw thinks I have a mad crush on her but I really like that her life seems a little crazier than mine, just nicknamed her new man. Sounds much better than calling him hubs all the time. Baby Daddy isn't quite right either though. Married too long for love slave. Hmmm, I will have to think. But I digress. So, he and I were sitting down and filling out the little questionnaire, and that was my first screw up. I had to double check I wasn't on the year 2. (Little man is smart!) So then I went to take a peek at Baby Girl's. She is advanced too, but her speech isn't quite where her brothers was. So hubby said "I think Little Man will be more like you and Baby Girl more like me." My non-thinking response? "what, dumb?" Good thing my hubs has a great sense of humor. But I felt guilty about in a round-about-way making fun of Baby Girl. Even though I didn't. I made fun of him and poor thing got caught in the cross-fire.

So, we get to Little Man's yearly Dr. appointment. All is fine and good until we get to the whole color-blindness test. Apparently little man MAY have this slightly. Oops, guess I shouldn't have made fun of hubby's lack of shade-matching ability.

Then we get to the question/answer portion. I mentioned that I have been potty-training for a year, he seems to get it yet doesn't. After assuring me that most boys aren't potty-trained until 3 1/2, she gave me some suggestions. Like telling me that toddlers want control, and while I may be able to make him go to bed, eat etc etc, I can't force him to go the bathroom. So instead of the threats, making him feel bad, letting him know I am frustrated, we are supposed to act like it is no big deal, and make him help us clean up his messes. So apparently my sad puppy-dog looks, underwear throwing and dramatic sighing was all the wrong thing to do. My son? Controlling? What would make you say that? The fact he tells me that time-out is not an option? The fact that he demands his sister hold her toys in a specific hand? That he NEEDS a cookie? No, not my boy.

Oh, but yes the day does get worse, my toe isn't broken yet! After a day filled with taping up fliers for MacaroniKid (if you don't know, you should ask, great program YOU can be a part of), talking with my BF and coming up with a plan to make her poor daughter stick fliers on cars, playing outside and making dinner, I finally had a second to sit down with my corned beef and cabbage, to which my son, you know the non-controlling one, declares he isn't eating it and heads downstairs. I pretend that I don't hear him down there eating Maraschino cherries that I accidentally left out because hey, I needed a break. Plus, he better enjoy it now, because after dinner, all he gets is his cold dinner that has been sitting out until he eats it or breakfast, whichever comes first. Then I hear the glass of water swish. I close my eyes, cut another piece and again pretend.

So this bad tired sick frustrated over-worked less-than-stellar mommy heads downstairs to clean up. At which point I promptly slip on the combination of spilled Maraschino juice and water, feel my toe slam into the cabinet, and squeal in pain.  Grabbing the phone, I call my hubby, who tells me to relax the rest of the night. I look at the filthy kitchen, down at my throbbing-hot and red toe and agree. After this, he tells me that his employee, whose kids go to our son's same preschool, happened to tell the teacher that Little Man went there as well. When they finally played the guessing game of names, the teacher said "oh, the little man that doesn't like other kids to touch him." WHAT? First of all, I have a super cuddly/huggy son, so this surprised me. And I don't care that his employee knows this. I am PISSED that I have been asking over and over and over again how he is doing, what happens in class, how he gets along with his peers etc etc. I always get a "he's doing fine". So FIRST of all, I don't even know if this is EXACTLY what she said. The employee could have been being nice and the teacher actually said something more like "the crazy bratty kid?" Not happy. Secondly, could she not have mentioned this to me?

Needing to get some rage frustration out, I cleaned the kitchen, hobbling around and wiping up. Throwing the kids a cookie to get them to stop demanding asking for whatever it is they were asking for. I could only laugh as I went back upstairs to find my son "cleaning" his legs and arms with Vaseline I will be a better mom tomorrow, if for no other reason than fear of a broken arm.
 
I bet it was the dang Leprechaun that tripped me. We've been looking for that bugger all day.