seriously, did that just happen?

 it isn't a full moon. it doesn't feel spring-like outside, so it can't be spring fever. maybe it's cabin fever, re-lived. maybe people are just dumb fucking dummies lately, but i have had a week of moments where i have to stop (*have* to, there is no choice in that) and ask, "seriously. did that just happen? i need a witness."

we have a hardscape with gravel in our front yard. i used weed death and waited until the ground was weed free before rolling out that fancy weed control tarp prior to laying the gravel, to no avail. false advertising, right? buying a weed control spray in a concentrate was less expensive and contained less packaging than buying 4 gallons of the stuff pre-mixed. so i carefully read the directions and put the new weed death into a generic 1-gallon sprayer. halfway through, the seal busted open and sprayed my left side and arm, all the way up and under my chin. apparently i was not supposed to pressurize the canister *quite* that much. point taken. clothes changed. take two. less than 10 minutes later, it happened again, narrowly missing my eyes a second time and spraying my right side. seriously. did that just happen?? i passed the torch to the hubs, who finished up without so much as a piff.

so this label thing hasn't quite been what was advertised. i have slogged through it, even though i don't like it much and won't be volunteering to do it next year. i made a commitment and i will see it through. the school had a contest last fall. i tallied up all the points from each classroom and made a tidy little spreadsheet, which i passed on to the principal in january. the principal cornered me this week and bent my ear about how upset the PTA was that i never rewarded the winning classroom. i wasn't aware that i was supposed to get the reward in the first place, let alone barge into some teacher's room and pass out ice cream in the middle of the day. i talked to three PTA members and discovered that the principal was the only one upset... and she told the entire committee that i dropped the ball and never gave her the information. seriously. did she just say that?? way to go... i am slowly losing interest in volunteering for anything next year.

i answer the call of bag check, finding several liquids in large containers. i don't even have both hands on the bag yet and the owner of said rolling storage closet snaps her fingers in my face and says, "hurry this up already, i have a flight to make. let's move it already. i'm late." seriously. did that just happen?? at this point, my blood simultaneously boils and turns to molasses. i have already determined that if she snaps her fingers in my face again, she will be frog-marched off the checkpoint. i do not slow down, no matter how much i want to, but i do my job efficiently. i block her several attempts to yank the bag from my hands and then put it through the x-ray one more time. as i tell her to have a nice flight, she flings, "if i make it now, thanks a lot." to which i reply, "oh, you'd better make it, or i'll have to see you again. we don't want that at all, so you'd better RUN." of course she was boarding at gate 14, the furthest away.

having several offspring of my own, i am perplexed by the "mommy's first stroller syndrome" of getting the largest, most outlandish, and freakishly huge strollers on the market today. and then proceeding to drag these heifers through an airport while carrying the 55 pound carseat, two diaper bags, a wheeled carry-on, a laptop bag, a purse, a bag for the carseat, (a bag for the carseat? isn't the baby going to be in the carseat? if not, why didn't you check it out front? needed your gym workout did you?) a stroller cover (really, is it going to rain on the plane??) and a backpack. america needs to downsize in every-which way. while performing a bag check, i glance over and a toddler has taken the safety leash (for the stroller, not the kid) and wrapped it around his neck about 14 times and is on tiptoe, trying to figure out how to get undone. where is mommy? wrestling the carseat into its bag. where is daddy? wrestling everything into the stroller. god forbid you put the kid in the stroller. i shrieked, dropped what i was doing and un-wound little junior while mom and dad looked on, stunned. stunned into immobility. seriously. are you still just standing there? "a little hint: child goes into stroller first. everything else can wait."

a portion of this week has felt a lot like christmas, minus the thousands of wrapped presents and freezing my ass off. i cannot figure out why we have been so busy, but tuesday took the cake. tuesday is supposed to be The Day to Travel because crowds are light and fares are cheaper. well, looks like people are taking advantage of that. i got up, showered, ate (on tuesday it was three waffles and 2 cups of coffee), and headed into work. i nibbled on some dried peaches during the morning briefing. because i get up before 2am and eat right away, i am one of the first people whining about when we will begin breaks. it has nothing to do with laziness; i am HUNGRY. breaks usually start around 5:30 and are staggered by team. so, on this busy day, imagine my surprise to hear my manager (not my supervisor; her "boss") grumbling, "this is insane. you people always take your breaks during the peak busy rush of the day. tomorrow we won't start breaks until after 6." he says. holding a danish in one hand and a coffee in the other. and about 6 days of flubber around the middle to survive on if starbucks should be closed for a week for health violations. seriously. did that just happen?? so i am supposed to go more than four hours without food at a breakneck pace on a checkpoint that does not have a reliable climate control system? i lost it. and almost lost my job. i told him off in front of my trainee and passengers. and i let him know that if he wants me to get a little note from my physician about the dangers of starving me and my high metabolism, i would create a paper trail from my checkpoint all the way to his office.... and i would make sure it did not stop there. i have already fainted twice on the checkpoint in the past 2-1/2 years. both of those dates, astonishingly, it was close to 7:30 and i had not yet had a break. hm. we shall see. i already fought this "you're not allowed to eat" battle in high school and won, bitch. my paper will beat anything your rock can think up.

cooking dinner on my friday... easy, fast, and well-loved pasta bake with sliced leftover grilled sausages. i am exhausted. i have not had a nap after work for the past three days. i am getting sore from being on full-duty again. (insert sad face) the phone rings and it is the elementary school's number. puzzled, i answer right away, mentally counting how many kids i picked up. the vice principal is calling to inform me that seamus had to go to the office today with another friend because of an incident. this is totally unlike seamus. the story goes, someone farted, either seamus or Friend. my son and friend laugh about it and then say, "ew, it smells like Other Person in the class." they have a good laugh and then Other Person, who is also in fifth grade, tells the teacher. there's a pause in the conversation. i offer a confused and anticipatory, "...and?" oh, no, that's it. seamus had to write a letter of apology and is missing recess on thursday. "...for?" i ask again. for making inappropriate remarks and hurting Other Child's feelings. seriously, am i getting this phone call for real?? i stifle a giggle and reply, "seriously? farts are totally appropriate for 5th grade boys. farts are hilarious. i'll let him know not to name names and we'll call it a day. deal?" it wasn't really a deal, i could hear it in her voice, but i am not punishing my kid; we had a talk, about 2 sentences long that went like, "don't go around saying that people smell like shit, even if they do." and fifth graders who smell like farts should take that message and a shower. middle school will be a WHOLE lot worse than someone saying you smell like a fart.

let the drinks flow.... this week is DONE. thursday is my day of rest. i'mma eat all i want when i want, not garden, not count labels, no one snapping fingers at me, no toddlers, and i will smell like a fart because i'm not taking a shower until i have to go pick up kids. fin.