Vacation Day gone bad

Picture this:

A warm sunny day, with nothing on the agenda except trying to play a few more new board games from Christmas, maybe painting my nails, perhaps a good movie...

A few chatty phone calls later, my sister and I decide that what would be really fun would be to load up our eight kids in her van and drive them 30 miles to the fun kid book store! The one with the whole room just loaded with toys! Are we great moms or what? Wow. Even on our day off, we are just thinking of our angels.

Three hours later, the toddler screaming, the baby starving and six other kids "bored" and wanting to do something "actually fun," we reload with boxes of new books (did I mention we were at the homeschool consignment store and they were having a sale and give-aways and maybe we were just a tad there for our own selves, I mean just a tiny bit) we leave. Then we go back because we forgot the diaper bag. Then we re-leave. Okay, over the toddler SCREAMING I try and raise the troops from near-death boredom to get excited about an adventure at McDonalds Playland! Yeah! Again, who is the Mom of the Year?!

Since we are way across town (in the neighborhood we grew up in), we decided to go ahead and hit the closest McDonalds, give them all an ice cream, let them bask in the glory of having the best two moms in the history of the world, and then get home in time for dinner with our eternally grateful husbands. What a genius plan.

45 minutes later, I can barely hear myself think, everything I touch I stick to (including my kids), the toddler is still SCREAMING, baby is spitting up, and we are worn down. And where the heck are we anyway? Didn't we grow up in this part of town? Why are we the only ones speaking in our native language? Can't wait to get home and watch a quiet movie.

I yell across the table at my sister that its time to lock and load. We bribe and scream the kids down from playland, find shoes, catch run-aways, and get out the door without anyone getting run over. Whew. Lock in the now-crying baby (anyone though of changing a diaper in three hours?), pray to God the toddler passes out, slam the last door and climb into the front seat. My sister is not starting the car. She is talking on the phone with her hand over her mouth. My head is pounding, since the noise somehow has followed us into the van. Let's go already!

The vehicle is not starting when she turns the key.

I'll just let that sink in.

The van is not starting.

I am serious. I think about running away and hoping for the best for her. I'm sure she'll forgive me eventually. She always wanted a bunch of kids. This would be like the ultimate mom test. I should let her have it.

RUN AWAY I tell myself.

I try my cell. The battery is dead. Maybe I better not run far. Hey. There are two cop cars in the parking lots with us, lights flashing. Again, WHERE ARE WE? Just as I think that maybe they could help, the cop cars leave. Okay, lets see, tow truck across the street. I run across and they are busy towing cars, as any idiot can see. But just call this number and they'll get someone out to jump us in no more than 45 minutes. Dodging traffic back across the street, my sister and I yell across the seat that maybe the kids should go back in and play while she figures this out. Kill me now. I don't care who gets mom of the year.

I get away with just taking six inside. But something has happened. Its now dinnertime. There is no place to sit, no more room for shoes. There are at least 30 kids screaming in Spanlish running wild. Within the next hour, things went bad. Tate and his cousin set off the alarm, which blares for 15 minutes. I act like I don't know them. Mike smashes his face somehow and screams and cries for his mom forever. Lacey, the one with her own opinions thank you, repeatedly informs me that she would go outside, get the credit card, and order dinner for us. I almost lost her several times before I took to blocking the door with my body and just yelling from the sidelines -- like all the other dazed and stressed out parents -- at my kids to stop hitting that kid, get off that kid, stop kicking those kids, don't push on the alarm anymore it wasn't funny the first time, don't steal the ball from that baby, for crying out loud don't push him!! etc...

I finally see two brothers-in-law outside working on the van. I pound desperately on the glass, and they wave and smile. Not funny.

We did eventually fix the van, we all got dinner at a sticky table, and started for home, exhausted. Not a mile away, lights are flashing behind us. Becky pulls into a parking lot and just sits there, like she is bored. Like, don't you want to get out your license and papers? Act contrite? Nope. License is expired... and come to think of it, I never got around to getting the title to the van put in my name. Are you kidding me?

Again, letting this sink in.

I should've run away when I had the chance. Now we'll be in jail for the night.

The officer for some reason doesn't ask for her license or registration. She is not even impressed.
When we finally get to the gas station where I left my Honda to ride with her, it is way dark and closed up. But.... what is that little light shining from inside the car? Is my DOME LIGHT ON????

Yes, it is. Luckily, by now its all just funny.

New Year's Resolutions

1. Play more.
2. Be aware of where money goes AFTER I spend it. Do the businesses/people I do business with spend that money directly against what I stand for? If so, do I care more about saving a nickel or my own convinience? Could I possibly go without? (gasp!!!) Hmmmmm (that wasn't a retorical question. We really will have to wait and see!)
3. Be nice to Chris. All the time. Even though he gets it when I'm not. After 11 years, lets surprise him.