Beware of Simple Questions...

Sometimes a question is so simple, it leads you to believe that the task in question will also be simple.
So when Jimmy asked this morning if I could pick up our taxes from the accountant, I thought, of course I can pick up the taxes. Run in, grab the taxes, leave. I would have B and O with me, but no big deal. Our accountant has a home office, so it's not even like we would need to walk through a busy parking lot or walk far from the car to get there. Much simpler than, say, a trip to K-Mart for a coffee maker, or taking all three to N's dance class, or taking B and O to the play area at McDonald's.

What I hadn't foreseen was that the accountant himself would be with a client, his assistant would be busy, and the office would be filled with other people. So we waited a few minutes for the assistant to get our paperwork together, and as she attempted to explain things to me, B and O discovered the book shelf, and decided that the books would look better on the floor. I also hadn't foreseen that, unlike in past years before Jimmy had started his business, this was not a simple "Here's your tax return. Sign it and mail it". This was business taxes, and personal taxes, and state taxes, and federal taxes, and tax paperwork for the business for 2012, and oh, by the way, write a check for this rather large sum right here and send it off by April 15th, thank you very much.

I kept looking at that sum, thinking, wow, that is a lot of money. And, no, this does not mean we made a lot of money. Trust me on this. You might think that's the case, but I am certain that is not the case, so as I stared at the rather large sum, I started to feel somewhat overwhelmed. And as I stared at that sum, the assistant started telling me about another sum-fortunately much smaller--that needed to be mailed to the state, and about checks that needed to be written later in the year, and forms that needed to be signed and returned to them, versus the forms that needed to be returned with the checks. I started thinking there was no way I was going to keep all of this straight.

At that moment, of course, B and O pulled more books off the shelf. O brought one to me that was titled something to the effect of  "Holistic Remedies Your Doctor Won't Tell You". I briefly wondered if this was required reading for CPAs, and then decided it was probably useful for when their clients pass out in shock after seeing the numbers on their tax forms.

The assistant is talking about this check, and that check, and in a few months this other check, and this one goes in this envelope, and this other one goes in that envelope, all while B and O are pulling books off the shelf, and running around the office, and starting to scream. Oh no, not the screaming. And I think, wait, I have three children...aren't they supposed to be good tax deductions? It also occurs to me that it's really unfair that everyone gets the same deduction per child. I mean, has the IRS met my children? Then I think, well, actually Uncle Pete (finally! someone in this family with a normal name!) works for the IRS, and he knows my children very well. Maybe he could explain to the powers that be that they are each worth at least a double deduction. I mean, what about all the necessary expenses directly relating to their care?  Like wine. And tequila. And, eventually, xanax.

I see the rather large sum again and I think I am going to pass out. Good thing the accountant has that holistic remedy book. I think maybe I should talk to Jimmy about having another deduction child. I quickly realize that what we save from an additional deduction we would end up spending on Jimmy's mental health care and/or beer. Probably not worth it.  I think of joining the Tea Party. Or the Libertarian party. Or maybe I'll start my own tent city with a sign that says "We are the 99% who pay too much in taxes while the 1% sits around and whines".  I decide this is probably the best option, since we might need a tent to live in once we pay this rather large sum to the IRS.

The assistant is still talking. I am putting books back, and chasing O, and telling B to stop screaming, and I am totally confused about who is supposed to get which check when and which form goes to the state, and which goes to the feds, and which comes back to the accountant. O is now also screaming, happily, but very loudly. I am starting to sweat as I realize that I am going to mess this up and they are going to take Jimmy to jail, all because my children were out of control in the accountants office and I,  brain dead and with no attention span even in the best of circumstances, got it confused. I think of the prison show I saw recently that gave me nightmares, and then I realize, wait--this would be federal prison. Don't people say that's like a country club? It occurs to me that part of our taxes are going to fund country club prisons for other people who don't pay their taxes. Then it occurs to me that maybe they intended to pay their taxes, but just got it all confused, because their children were screaming and throwing books in the accountant's office.

B and O have disappeared into a back office, with the accountant's books. I am trying to round them up, while putting back books, attempting to make them be quiet, and listening to the assistant, who clearly just wants me to leave. Now. The accountant comes out of his office and appears to be, well, scared. New people come into the office and take all of this in with looks of fear and/or apprehension. The accountant asks if I have everything, and tells me to make sure I take the children with me. I think of Jimmy going to the country club prison, and I think no, it doesn't have to be this way. I will write a letter to the IRS. I will tell them to talk to Uncle Pete--surely he will tell them that my children are worth a double deduction. And then I will beg, plead if I have to, No! Don't take Jimmy to the country club prison!

Take me instead.
Please.

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An Act of Courage

Today, I made a choice to do something that I thought was very brave. I decided to take N and B to K-Mart. What's so brave about that, you say? You didn't even have all three! True, as Jimmy had come home for lunch and offered to stay with O, who was already half asleep. As it turns out, this was probably a really good thing. However, I didn't just take N and B to K-Mart. I took them to K-Mart when B hadn't had a nap, and it was way past nap time. I knew this would require a great deal of strength on my part. In fact, there was a little voice telling me, "This is NOT a good idea. You just get this whole K-Mart idea right out of your head, put that child down for his nap, and go later". But I didn't listen. Instead, I ignored the voice. I thought I was doing something very brave, but it turned out I was just doing something really, really stupid.  Never, ever ignore the voice.

The reason for my obsession with going to K-Mart? Coffee. Our coffee maker has been broken for a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks! I don't know how I have survived that long, but I have. Since I am the only coffee drinker in our house, it's only impacted me, and coffee runs to Dunkin Donuts, Starbucks, and Caca's (no, not like WaWa's...she's my sister) have gotten me through. I've even started drinking tea in the morning, but today when I was contemplating a third cup of tea to help me wake up, I finally accepted that it was time for a new coffee maker.

 On the way to the coffee maker aisle (no, I know it's not called the coffee maker aisle, but in my mind, that was the single most important thing in that aisle, so that's what I'm calling it), B decided he wanted to be a mannequin. Just like the ones in the store. Well, except that he wanted to keep his head. He did, however, want to be up on the little stage that they're on. So that's where he went. Several times. He did a perfect mannequin imitation. Several times. Not that hard, you say? It involves standing completely still. And this is B. Need I say more? Eventually, he agreed to come with us to the coffee maker aisle, but only after he had waved good -bye to the mannequins, and eventually accepted that they weren't going to wave back.

I had no idea there were so many different kinds of coffee makers. I am amazed by all the choices. I wonder if I should go cheap and simple or get something a little more expensive that will brew individual cups on a timer. I imagine coming downstairs in the morning and having a fresh hot cup of coffee waiting for me. Then, the fireman's daughter in me thinks that can't possibly be safe, and I decide a timer is not a good idea. But maybe the individual cups are. I am contemplating all this as N and B are behind me...somewhere. I look to see N curled up on a lower shelf. B is telling her to push over. N says "Hey mom! Didn't you get left in a store once when you did this?" I tell her no, that was Caca...or Uncle Pat. Who can remember. I wasn't even born yet. I just know it wasn't me.

I know I should tell N to get down, but she is usually so set in her role as responsible older sister that part of me is happy to see her laying on a shelf in K-Mart, and I decide to let her stay there. Besides, it looks sturdy, and it's keeping them relatively quiet. I go back to looking at coffee makers, and start thinking that maybe timers are a good idea after all. I discover that the prices go up to a hundred bucks, and I wonder if one of the more expensive ones will make me a single cup of coffee on a timer, add cream and sugar, and bring it to me in bed. N is off the shelf and standing behind me talking about...something. B has taken N's spot on the shelf, and I realize that N is talking about martial arts. I briefly wonder why she is talking about ninjas, but realize I will hear the whole story again on the way home anyway, so I don't focus too much on what she's saying until I hear these magic words..."Look! It makes frozen drinks!"

A machine that makes coffee AND frozen drinks? Why didn't I think of that?! Whichever one it is, I am getting it. What a perfect combination! I turn around to see her standing in front of a large blender looking thing. "Look mom! It's a Ninja! I've seen it before. It makes frozen drinks and salsa!" I have a crappy mommy moment when  I realize that my daughter must have seen this on an infomercial, and yet I have never seen it, or heard of it. And aren't those infomercials on at 3 am? I make a mental note to check the parental controls on our TV. And then I get back to the Ninja. It does not make coffee, but it does make frozen drinks and salsa. The box has the most beautiful picture I have ever seen--of a frozen strawberry something-or-other, and it is talking to me. "Buy me! You won't regret it!". Never ignore the voice! I decide that a cheap coffee maker and a Ninja is as good as a two for one deal, and put them both in my cart.

B had been very quiet during this time, but at this point, he decided he was done. He was so done, in fact, that when I said it was time to go, he just laid on the floor. And stayed there. No tantruming. No screaming. Just kicked back. Arms under his head. In the middle of the ninja aisle. N and I walked an aisle over and came back to find him in the same spot. Twice. He was not budging. Someone made an announcement over the loud speaker, and I told him, "Didn't you hear, B? She said that little boy needs to get up off the floor". Believe it or not, this has worked for similar situations in the past. Not this time. This time, he just looked at me and said, "No. I don't think so. I didn't hear her say my name". We tried walking away again. He didn't budge. Finally, I went back and said  "Bye, B. We love you. We hope you enjoy your stay here. We'll come back to see you on alternate Wednesdays." A staff person walked by and then came back and waited to make sure I wasn't really leaving him there. Whatever.

Eventually he got up, and as we headed for the register, he and N decided to look at kids place mats. And then they decided to take them out. And then B decided to throw them all over the floor. Repeatedly. A woman walking by observed this, and shook her head at me as she walked by. This was not a smiling head shake. This was not an "I've been there, honey" head shake. This wasn't even a "Better you than me" head shake. No, I've seen my share of head shakes, and this was definitely a "your children are going to end up in prison" head shake. So, I did what any good mother wanting to model appropriate social skills for her children would do. I smiled and said somewhat loudly, "Yup, They're mine. Lucky, aren't I?"

We finally made it to the register, and B was holding on to the front of the cart, facing me. I've heard you're not supposed to let them do this. I've heard it's because the cart may tip over. I've heard it's because they may fall. I've never heard it's because their foot may get stuck in the bottom part of the cart, and they will be unable to move, and that, even though you are just a cart's length away from them, at the cash register, surrounded by people, they will loudly and repeatedly scream, "Mommmmmm!!!!! I'm STUCK! Get me OUT!!!!!" I've never heard that it's because it's very awkward to try to remove a foot from the underside of a shopping cart while also holding onto the child whose foot it is, to prevent him from falling face first onto the dirty K-Mart floor (that he was just laying on) once you eventually remove his foot. I've never heard that. But now you have. So don't say you didn't know.

The other thing I never heard is that, once you realize that your child is not injured, and that he's not screaming in pain, you will laugh uncontrollably as you attempt to remove his foot from the shopping cart. This really doesn't help the process. However, it does provide great entertainment to the man behind you in line, who is buying newborn size diapers and bottles, and in all likelihood has no idea that his life will, in a few short years, look very much like yours.

Fortunately, we left without having to call the fire department, but I realized that I needed to pick up my W2 at work, only a two minute drive away. I decide it couldn't be any worse than K-Mart, and I really needed to get it today. So, I ignored the little voice again and took them with me to my office. We took the elevator up to the second floor, where B was excited to see that we could look down on the lobby below. He stood at the railing and looked down, and as a man I assume is a client of a co-worker came out of my office suite and stood next to us to wait for the elevator, B announced loudly, "Mom! I'm gonna jump! I'm gonna jump!".  The man was kind enough to talk him down, and tell him that while it did look like fun, it probably wouldn't have great results. Why did I ignore the voice? Never ignore the voice!

Some days I come home fairly surprised that we are all still in one piece. Today I also came home happy that we didn't have to call the fire department to remove B's foot from the shopping cart, thankful that B only talked about jumping over the railing in my building, and glad that no one was left--voluntarily or otherwise-- at K-Mart.

I also came home thinking that, in spite of days like this, life is good. At least I have a sense of humor to get through these moments. These are the small things, and in the big picture, the only parts of them that we'll remember are the parts that made us laugh. And, if my biggest problem--today, at least-- is working around nap time (or not) to go get a coffee maker, then I am truly, incredibly fortunate.

Life is good.
Cause I have a Ninja.

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