The Sunday before last I ran away. Yes, Easter Sunday.
It had been a tough week around here. We’ve been really busy and my children had pushed and pushed and pushed and the night before, things had come to a head over the state of their bedrooms. It just pushed me to the edge. Then after church, they just pushed me over. I left. Changed out of my Easter finery, got in the car and drove. Cranked up the radio, rocked out to INXS. Me and mom jeans, driving my 11 year old minivan. Oh yeah, that’s just the way I roll. I even grabbed some knitting on the way out.
I ended up going to the mall, but it was closed, dang conservative, Christian town. I went to McDonalds, because I am such a rock star, see earlier paragraph re: minivan and mom jeans. I had a big ol’ Coke, which I had given up for Lent. It was cold and sweet and everything I deserve out of life. Then I went to WalMart – don’t hate my diva life- and bought bins for my daughter’s room. And a salad bowl. I know, I know!
I shushed a kid in church,too. It was the final blessing and he was just talking and talking and talking. Then when he started saying “she told me to shut up, she told me to shut up!” I turned around and told him that mass is almost over, he could wait a couple of more minutes.
Do. Not. Mess. With. Me. I will take you down.
(I got an apology from both the dad and the boy after mass, which is more than I got from my own children when I came home. I have since forgiven them and they treated me very well for at least 2 hours. Sometimes a mom just needs a break.)