This, by the way, is what your dry erase board looks like when you son needs surgery and you're in the middle of making arrangements for ten other children.
Any parent of special needs children knows exactly what I'm talking about with the sabotage. It comes with the territory. I have several children who make sure to ruin any special moment or occasion. Its something about the hard-wiring in their brains. They can't help it and as a mom, it's often my job to defuse the situation and my job to help them learn to cope in the future.
Chuck had to work today and the kids were begging me to take them to the store. For some strange reason I agreed. To take eleven children to the store. Eight days before Christmas.
We tidied up, I had the children use the bathroom and inspected faces for dirt and clothes for grime. Adalia decided to stay home which left my total of children traveling at 10. I sent them out to the van letting them know that anyone fighting would be left a home. Of course by the time I got out to the van (19 seconds after my children) a fight had ensued. So, Avi was left at home. Avi happens to be in possession of $10 her grandma and grandpa gave her for her birthday (back in June), but stores are something she really doesn't handle well. She gets over stimulated very easily and the experience is miserable for her as well as anyone with her.
So off we went. Went I found a parking spot, I started to give the children the usual pep talk about being polite and respectful, an example of a large family, blah, blah, blah. Then I decided to throw a little Christmas cheer in and said, "Now children, I know Santa may not be watching and there's no elf on the shelf, but, there are blog readers and they might recognize us here." I got several eye rolls from my older children and a few blank stares. But darn it, I thought I was mighty clever.
As I rounded the back of the van, Jubilee came up to me and said quietly, "Your blog readers don't know about all the bad things we do because you don't put those things on the blog. So we should act just like we seem on the blog".
Well, said, Jubilee.
Along with the holiday shoppers I have several young children with small amounts of money that they, of course, wanted to spend. As any mom in a state with sales tax knows, there is nothing easy about helping young children figure out whether or not they have enough money for each item. If something costs $4.99 the kid is guaranteed to only hear the "$4" part. And inevitably they have $4.02. Then there is trying to figure out whether or not the child with $12.56 has enough money to buy various items that cost $2.99, 3.42, and 7.48. And once you figure out the answer to that, the child will suddenly switch up an item or two just to see if your watching. Add into this half a dozen more children who need assistance and a toddler who decides he needs to nurse in the LEGO aisle, and you start to wonder why they don't give out valium in those sample bags they give you at the hospital.
Oh, and did I mention Mordecai, who once we figured out he had enough money to buy the stuffed leopard he wanted, kept asking if he could also buy this, that and the other thing. He had $7.26 cents. Once I explained that the leopard that regularly cost $14.99 was on sale for 50% off and they we had to add in tax, the total would come to $7.05. But you see, he had more money than that, so he was still game for picking up every item that caught his fancy and asking if he could buy that too.
We finally made it to the check out line, with him mumbling the whole way about how he had more money than $7.05 and maybe he could buy something else. Did I mention his money was all in change? And that I, his faithful mother, counted out $7.05 in change? Mostly nickels and dimes? And that as soon as I paid, he said, "See, I still have money left".
When we finally arrived at home Avi came rushing out of her bedroom asking if anyone bought her anything at the store. Ahem. Anyone remember the Lava Lamp Story?
No, no one had bought her anything. But there was one final chapter to our lovely afternoon. At that was the discovery (by Kalina's foot) of the blood spattered cardboard in the girls' room. Avi had clearly spent her afternoon picking at her nose (which had been bleeding earlier in the day) and smeared, spattered and dripped blood all over for our enjoyment.
Good times, my friends, good times.
