The kids had winter vacation this week. Somehow we managed to spend the time in a low-key fashion. It had everything to do with the fact that my husband took the week off (with the exception of Thursday) and that we basically did whatever the kids wanted. Their friends visited, spent the night, ate us out of house and home. It was relaxed, fun, and very kid-centered. But tomorrow the real world starts for us again because I'm doing some filming for a soap opera ~ and my husband will be left alone with the kids for the first time all week.
Because everything's gone according to the kids' wants, things have been harmonious. But we're tired. And we want to do something for ourselves (like look at sports cars because I'm turning 40 this year and a two-seater means only one other adult can come along for the ride).
At first I responded to my husband's suggestion of a sports car with pragmatism. "But that means we can't cart along four other of the kids' friends if we don't have a second family car," I reasoned. Then, standing in line at the deli, breathing into my cell phone, I listened to what I had just said.
"That means we can't cart along four other of the kids' friends...heeeeeeyyyyyy. You're on to something," I cooed into the phone to my husband. I made him agree it would be our car, and I'd cough up all my consulting money to finance it.
The kids have pushed us all week. "Can my best friend come over?"
You mean the one who just spent the night and we sent home an hour ago because we have no more food left in the fridge?
"Yeah, that one."
Forget the definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Insanity means living with two kids who only understand 'no' as a one-way vocabulary word stemming from their mouths, not yours.
When the door clicked shut and the last friend was out of the house, the kids both screamed, "We're bored!" within minutes. I felt like Britany Spears in one of her latest videos.
You wanna piece of me?
Go ahead. Push it. I dare you.
The lights go dim on this lovely domestic scene and all you can hear is the peeling of a sports car's wheels!



