This has been a rough day. I feel kind of stressed out and I don’t know why. Even if I had a reason, I rarely stress, so this is weird for me. So weird in fact, that I spent quite a bit of the morning considering all possible reasons for stress-like symptoms:
- PMS (sorry, TMI, but the #1 culprit) – nope
- Finances – I have none, soooo, nope
- I’ve said or done something I regret – not that I recall
- Relationship angst – no man on this horizon, so, once again, nope
Having rejected the usual suspects it occurred to me that the unsettled feeling in my chest could be due to lack of sleep. As I recall, my sleep was disturbed the past three nights for the following reasons:
Night 1: G vomits on bathroom floor
Night 2: P has burning diarrhea (I told her not to eat those spicy Indian Cheetos)
Night 3: P wet the bed
It seems possible that I am sleep deprived. As per usual.
This afternoon, once P went to school, I drove over to Target to pick up a few things. I still felt bleh and decided I needed something in the ice cream genre. On the way home I visited two Thrift Stores (believe me, no one finds this weirder than me) and a Rita’s. Throughout the day I had been praying, the thrift shopping therapy and Chocolate Blendini were starting to kick in, and by mid-afternoon I did feel better, which brings me to my point.
This weekend I cleaned out my car. Yesterday I noticed a red McDonald’s Fry envelope under a seat, normally I wouldn’t care but the car is now garbage free so I threw it into one of my grocery bags and brought it in the house. I left the bags on the bottom step and sat down in my office. In the meantime my kids filed in from school.
As if on cue, three of my four children immediately spotted the McDonald’s wrapper through the grocery bag and accused me of going to McDonald’s without them.
I totally expected this reaction.
My children couldn’t find their toothbrush if you stuck it in their mouth (believe, me, I’m convinced they would be dead without me) but they can spot a McDonald’s wrapper a quarter mile away. Blindfolded. Through a brick wall. Concealed in a bank safe.
I’ve learned that I must hide the evidence. Evidence of any sort of treat I splurged on while the children were not in my presence. It Cannot Just Be Throw Recklessly Away!
They. Will. Find. It.
It must be disposed of in a place they will never ever venture.
Outdoor trashcan, it’s best if you lift a trash bag and slide the contraband underneath.
You must be sneakier than them.
I feel better now.
I have no fear of my children reading this blog and finding out my secrets. Never gonna happen. My parents don’t even read it, and I’m cool with that. No biggie. You know, w/e.