Yesterday was another interesting day with the Donovans… Greg took the day off and after he timed himself running a mile for the first time in 20 years (which he did in 9 minutes) for some competition he and the guys came up with at work, we used our passes to take the boys to Universal Studios. The bad thing about those particular theme parks is that the parking garage is about 100 miles away from the actual park entrance, so Mikey was set up for an early exit from our fun already. I think way stayed a total of three hours—they played in the kid land part of Universal, we ate as cheap a lunch as possible, stopped to share some ice cream and then began the long trek back to the car.
While we were having ice cream, Michael decided the he wanted to ride in the stroller, and Pierce was going to walk. P. was cool with that, but I told M. he looked dorky at 4’ tall riding in a stroller. As we were joking around about his ridiculous appearance, I decided to mess with him and tell him that I was going to push him in the stroller right into the lake and then run off. He laughed knowing I was joking, so I had to take it a step further. (Disclaimer: I was the youngest of five, and I took plenty of razzing, but never could give it, so I had children to experience what my older siblings did with me.) I told Mikey “Listen, we’ve been together 5 almost 6 years, and we’ve had a really good run, but I’m done. It was nice to know you.” M. started laughing and told me “You’re just teasing! Are you just teasin’, Mommy?” (me) “Nahhh…it’s been long enough.” (M.) “Mommy! Tell me your teasing!” Naturally, my sadistic nature forced me to tell him one more time, “Nope.” Oops…went to far…face is crumpling, and tears are welling up—crap—this sadism thing isn’t as much fun as I thought… Unfortunately, I started laughing…I thought he would realize I was kidding, then–I think he did, but just to mess with me, he kept his head down while he recovered, so I would think he was really sad. The good part about this is that I got to give lots of hugs and kisses.
On the way out of the theme park, I had said to Greg that I couldn’t believe that Mikey cried when he’s such a jokester. G.’s response was this: “If you were on Dr. Phil explaining what you did and why did your child react that way, Dr. Phil would say in his smart ass, parental expert sort of way, ‘What did you expect to happen?’ then probably something to the nature of, ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be a parent!’”
The kids were asleep before we got home, and I was asleep shortly after we got home.
By evening, G. was beat from his early morning mile run, and the US open was on, so he did a couple repairs to our fence, and landed back in front of the TV. Meanwhile, the boys were entertaining themselves, so I got a wild hare to clean the garage but he did a lousy job, so I took over! HA! I have my sights set on a new furniture project, but I have to make some room in order to keep the peace in the family. Besides—it’s like Tetris for me to figure out a better way to organize our stuff. It’s only bad when I can’t remember the new storage place for something that I need.
I learned something interesting when I was moving stuff around. We have this plastic storage closet that I shimmied to the other side of the garage. By the time I got it where I wanted it with things stored on top of it, I realized that one of the doors had popped out-of-place, so I had to muscle it back. Being lazy and never wanting to take the extra step of preparation, I left the stuff up on top of the cabinet while I was wrestling with the door. What became so painfully apparent to me was that helium isn’t lighter than air when it’s in a tank—as a half used up one rolled of the top of this storage unit hitting the top of my head on its way to the garage floor. In between waves of nausea and trying to see if any neighbors caught my blunder, I sent a blue streak of lovely language into the ethers, which most assuredly carried plenty of weight while emphasizing the pain I was in, and floating away to any listening ears. However, my husband’s ears were not reached, as nobody came to check on me. It was all I could do not to pick up that tank and launch it into outer space. But, alas, the pain subsided to a tolerable level, and I got my garage squared away. At one point I was checking to see if I felt blood running down my scalp, but I guess it was just sweat. Good times at the Donovan house…