This past Sunday my husband got the joy of attending a soccer game with one of his friends.
I had the luck, pleasure, torture of taking all four kids to a birthday party, all by myself.
And because I had so much fun wrestling four kids on my own, especially the one year old who, I swear doesn't even know his name, and for the life of me, cant grasp the concept of what the word "no" means. I decided to treat the little goblins to a movie instead of going home and relaxing.
What was I thinking?
Twenty minutes into the car ride, I began to question why I thought this would be a fun idea. And I learned very quickly, that fun, is a relative term.
While the events that followed was far more fun than getting jabbed by a hot poker, it was considerably less fun than just about anything else.
We arrived at the movies just in time to grab popcorn, nachos, and drinks. Everything surprisingly started off well when Ryker sat quietly in the dark for 10 minutes before the previews started.
The calm before the storm.... I should of known!
The minute the previews started Ryker started pinching me in the face.
He also screamed, arched his back, and tried to wiggle himself out of my lap about the same time he managed to rip off one of his shoes and throw it in the middle of the isle.
This was also the exact second that CJ announced that he had to go pee so bad he thought he was going to die.
And if that's not enough... my sassy-pants 9 year old is doing everything in her power to hold on to her convented title of "Little Mama". This included trying to (unsuccessfully) sooth Ryker, scolding Raigen for eating too many nachos, and telling CJ that if he didn't be quiet that he was going to have to sit in the hallway.
"Knock it off!!" I growled.
As it turns out, no amount of intimidation or parental warnings could prevent Ryker from ruining the movie....for me.
The last straw came when I was gathering the diaper bag and my purse to retreat to my normal movie watching room AKA the ladies room, when all of the sudden he surged at his sisters nachos and screamed.
It was dark and I couldn't tell if he was screaming from getting burned from the cheese or just because she wouldn't give him her nachos.
This kid is rotten, ya'll.
And if this is a sign of whats ahead with this child..... I am in serious trouble.
Ryker and I ended up camping out in the hallway of the movie theatre. I handed him a bag of goldfish and my cell phone and I sat in the corner and cried.
Sometime about an hour later my other kids returned, smiling, "that movie was awesome!" they shrieked.
"Yay.. so happy for you." I mumbled.
In the end, despite my obvious signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, my kids said they loved the movie and that I am the best mom they've ever had, so I guess that's a win. Sort of .
Here is part one, in case you missed that delightful story.
Here is part one, in case you missed that delightful story.
