There Are People Who Pay Attention To Those Drug Ads. The Wrong People.

We were perched on the couch watching Really Bad Reality TV aka That Show the Little Kid Should Have Won aka America's got Talent. Alexis was entirely too amused by the guy with the "wiggly eyebrows" and I was wondering how the heck this became my life. I don't do reality TV. I especially don't do reality TV involving wiggly eyebrows.

The show broke for commercials so Alexis flew off the couch and ran to her coloring books and crayons. She wanted to squeeze a few moments of artistic fun. I ran to the kitchen to make us some popcorn. The show had already resumed by the time I returned to my assigned couch cushion, so Alexis was there waiting for me.

As I started to sit down, Alexis said, "Momma."

"Yes," I replied.

"You should talk to your doctor about your electile dysfunction," she said.

I guess she's right. I always have trouble getting my electile to work right.

I Can't Remember What I Had For Breakfast Yesterday, But I Remember This

It was always my favorite place to eat out. With it's awkwardly steep pitched roof and rugged decor, it looked like it should be called Country Kitchen. And it was. I looked forward to sitting in the high-backed green booths as I munched on whatever I could find at the salad bar. Really, it was all about the black olives and cottage cheese. Those two things, while perhaps strange together, are really at their best when you're dining at a cheap buffet-style restaurant.

The sun shone brightly as we pulled into the parking lot. Not a single cloud could be found as far as the eye could see. In North Dakota, a crisp, clear, blue sky means it's colder than a freeze-dried Gisele Bundchen after getting hit on by David Spade. We had just left church and it was a very short car ride, except for the part where the heater hadn't had a time to make a dent in the sub-zero temperatures. I hustled to the door, my long lavender and white checked dress rustling in the wind as I sought to warm up.

I whipped the door open and quickly stepped into the entryway. There was a set of glass doors behind me leading to the great outdoors and another matching set in front of me, that set leading to the hostess station and restaurant. My parents seemed to have decided it would be fun to move at a snail's pace, so I started perusing the row of candy and toy machines that lined one side of the entryway.

I dismissed the sour candies. I scoffed at the gum that was sure to be hard and tasteless. As a preteen, I wasn't really interested in any of the little toy-filled eggs. I was growing impatient with the old folks who apparently decided to cure the common cold before going into the restaurant. To pass the seconds, I started counting the neon rainbow of bouncy balls in one machine.

The counting thing was something that I often did. In fact, I still do. Trees, rocks, windows, light poles, whatever. It all works as I try to find a pattern or rhythm. It's just a way to pass time. Nothing more.

As I reached fifty in my ball count, I heard the door open. I was born a smart-ass, so without looking over my shoulder, I said, "Mommy, can I have a big blue bouncy ball?" in a sing-song voice. I was far too old to actually want a ball. I was only asking so I could pretend to be upset when she shot me down. If she was paying attention, she would know I was joking. If she wasn't, she would be annoyed with me for even thinking about asking for a silly toy. Either way, I was going to stir up some drama.

I didn't realize it wasn't my parents who had opened the door until I heard the loud, booming voice. It plowed through the air with, "I'll give you some blue balls for free."

I. was. mortified.

I was old enough to understand the veiled meaning of the sentence, but not old enough to realize that I should give the guy a piece of my mind. I stood with my mouth agape, staring as the man walked past. When my parents FINALLY came through the door, I was still stunned silent.

It's funny the things that stick in your memory. 20-something years later, I remember those few minutes as if they were yesterday.

Just One of Those Working Mom Rants

I try not to complain about the challenges of working full-time while being a mom. I mean, there's really nothing to be accomplished by complaining. It's not exactly a choice, but it is where I'm at and there's no changing it at this time. All complaining does is create drama. Honestly, it seems that complaining just riles up those who stay at home. Both sides of the fence seem to get defensive when either side whines, as if we all forget that everybody has days that suck and that neither side has it worse. Just different.

But.

There is one thing that drives me absolutely bonkers. BONKERS.

WHY THE FRACK IS IT SO HARD TO FIND ACTIVITIES FOR MY KID?

If you don't work, you probably haven't noticed it. But, if you do work? You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

Karate classes. Alexis wants them. Alexis can't have them because every single place that is even slightly convenient for us runs 4-year old classes weekday mornings. I can just picture telling my boss that I can't be at a meeting because I have to run Alexis to karate class, but I'll be right back, so don't worry!

Swimming lessons. Alexis has been asking for swimming lessons for over a year. Alexis has not gone to swimming lessons because Momma can't get her to swimming lessons at 10:00 am on a Monday or Tuesday. But, hey, Random Swimming Lesson Provider, thanks so much for offering TWO WHOLE choices for preschoolers!

Dance classes. We had one choice in the matter that didn't involve me basically quitting my job--Saturday afternoons. I HATE having the class on Saturday afternoon because it means our day is completely screwed. Normally we like to do some sort of family activity on Saturdays. With dance class at 1:00, we won't be able to do that for the next several months. We'll deal with it, but I would still much rather take Alexis to class at, say, 5:00 on a weekday.

I know that all sounds petty because OH, NO!, my poor kid can't do something extra at a crazy early age! But, it's just the beginning. I know very well that once she starts school, there will be times that I will have to take time off of work because of concerts and shows and events that will be scheduled during working hours. Everyone I know deals with having to use vacation days to attend morning school events, so there is no doubt it is my future.

It just kinda sucks when you have a limited number of days off in a year. I'd much rather spend them at Disney World with her than in a school gymnasium watching her.