Chilax!

I don't know why I go through a writing drought and then have a sudden burst of blog blurts. It's like I have to vomit out my thoughts every once in a while, and you guys are unfortunate enough to get hit.

I have a million things I should be doing right now including getting caught up on emails, painting, cleaning, sleeping, etc.

Instead I have to get off my chest that today was the final day of Torture Me Toddler Tuesdays. Thank you, God! I never knew that my two year old son had a completely different personality he reserved just for public settings that required him to follow instructions and participate. I will never do that again. We can be prisoners in our own home just like always and live a perfectly content life. I have no desire to be subjected to any type of mommy and child class ever again.

We went to six classes total. Alex NEVER warmed up to the concept. He NEVER wanted to join in. He only wanted to play with all of the balls and fun equipment in the gym. The structured games of "duck, duck, goose" and dodge ball were not at all appealing to him. And honestly, I can't blame him. He completely takes after his mother in that respect. I dreaded those games as a child. To this day, I still don't want to touch strangers until they chase me. And I have zero desire to be hit with balls. Go figure.

The twisted thing about toddler dodge ball is that you don't have a wide open area to run. They put the toddlers in an enclosed area--a rectangle surrounded by cones--with parents guarding the outside perimeters so toddlers can't escape. Then you give one kid a ball and tell them to hit other children with it. My tiniest daughter was the first one ordered to sit down. She had never played the game before and had no idea what was about to happen. All of a sudden the teacher said to begin and a little boy pegged her with a ball first. It's a "nail the weakest first" approach. She sat down as instructed and fought back the tears wondering why someone had just hit her and why I'd subject her to such asinine "fun." We pay for this?

Anyway, Alex was a holy terror disappearing into the coach's office, closing doors to remain open, and playing with balls that weren't supposed to be played with. Toddler Tuesday is nothing but an hour of me telling him no and threatening him within an inch of his life. Having been a teacher myself for seven years, I CANNOT STAND disruptive behavior in the classroom. The basketball court was Teacher Steve's classroom, and my son was a monkey running from one corner to another. DROVE ME CRAZY! And I'm the one all cocky after taking my children to a restaurant so proud of their superior behavior. Whatever! That flew out the window when we joined Toddler Tuesday. It apparently doesn't apply there. The girls are still good, but that boy child! Oh, GAH!

So anyway, I'm wound tighter than...something that's wound super tight. And I'm sleepy. And I'm wondering how it is that I can walk into a public restroom with as many as 8 empty stalls, and I always gravitate to the stall with the toilet that hasn't been flushed. I feel I am literally a sh*t magnet.

I also feel really stupid when it comes to public faucets, soap dispensers, and towel dispensers. I'm the idiot going from sink to sink waving my hands in various patterns in front of the sensors in attempt to get them to squirt out a little water. Once I finally get my hands wet, I go for the soap which is usually still manual operation in our small city. I soap up and begin the hand dance again around water sensors only to finally get one to squirt out just enough water to wash half the soap off. And then the motioning and waving of hands begins all over again. I look like a street cop on acid trying to direct traffic. Or some psychotic catcher in a baseball game sending signals only my friends, the aliens, can understand. I hate it, and it's completely exhausting looking that stupid for that long. I feel lucky when the towel dispenser is manual. I like something I can grab onto and rip off. I hate the ones you have to pump because the towels always bunch up inside instead of coming out. By the time I leave public restrooms, I feel covered in germs and have the need to talk to someone about my inadequacies as a human being.

I don't trigger automatic doors either. It has nothing to do with weight. I'll walk up to stores like the automatic door is eventually going to open for me. I've come close to hitting glass on more than one occasion because I was wrong to assume the mechanism would surely be triggered by the time I made another step or two. What is it about me? Do I not really exist?

I have two stupidity stories to share with you...one is on the subject of public restrooms. I was at Home Depot last night. I walked into the empty restroom facility, walked into the stall with the nasty toilet, walked back out, chose a clean one I had passed up, put the seat protector on the potty lid, did my business, MADE SURE THE AUTOMATIC TOILET FLUSHED, and went to wash my hands. I was checking out my scary hair in the mirror as I started the darting hand movements all around under the faucet. Continued to move this way and that way and side to side as I contemplated how horrible I looked. Still no water. Thank goodness for small favors and that I was all alone because it was a normal faucet that had a handle. That's stupid story number one.

Stupid story number two is a painting story from Saturday. I had just had our carpets professionally cleaned the day before. I put down plastic under one wall because I didn't want to get paint on the carpet. When it was time to move to the next wall, I was too lazy to move the plastic. I decided if I rolled the paint on slowly, the splatter wouldn't be so much of an issue. I wasn't confident that paint wouldn't drip from the roller as I walked to the second wall, so I picked up the paint tray and held it under the roller just to be safe. It's important to be cautious. I stood close to the wall trying to be very careful not to get drips or splatter on the carpet. I don't know what made me look down, but as I was reaching really high with the roller, I realized my left hand was tipping and paint was pouring out all over the floor. That's stupid story number two. I think I got most of the paint out of the carpet. It's not that noticeable.

Okay, I'm feeling a little more chilaxed now that I've blogged. I suppose I should start painting now...because I'm so good at it. And clearly a brilliant person in general.

That is all.