Today's going to be another relatively busy day. First, I've got to get the bills straightened away (I just LOVE paying them all online! It saves so much time, and a ton of stamps! :). Then, the girls and I are headed off to K-Mart. I have to return a couple of things, and plunk a good hunk-o-change down on my Christmas layaway. This is the SECOND one I've got going, by the way... I took the first one out a few weeks ago, because it also had a bunch of back-to-school clothes for N.
I may check out some more clothes for R. while I'm there, but I'm already pretty sure that I won't have much success at this particular store. They tend to have a lot of "hoochy-mama" things in her size, and I'll be damned if I'm going to have my 9-year-old daughter wearing a shirt that says "Bite Me" across her budding chest, and pants that expose her entire navel! Uhm... no thanks.
I also have to run the mundane errands, too... filling up my tank with gas (I take a big, heaving breath before plunging off that particular cliff!), running to the post office, and probably picking up a few things at the grocery store to tide us over until Sunday, when we'll do our "big" grocery shopping (usually two heaping carts full, which is why I have to wait for a day when my husband's home from work, so he can push one of the carts around the store. Hey... I'm good but I'm not that good! :). R. also has her ADHD follow-up with her doctor today at 3:30 this afternoon. So... once I get off this thing, I'm going to pretty much be hitting the ground running.
Before I sign off for the time being, though, I want to share with you all a not-so-pleasant "transition" I've been going through with my son, lately. He's turning 14 at the end of next month, and I know he's probably only trying to assert his independence a bit, and therefore he's "pushing" his father and me, to see how far he can go. Trouble is... I push back.
Case in point: My son called home at around 4:30 last night, just before the Club was about to close. My husband answered the phone, and then came to check with me about my son's request. He wanted to go over to a friend's house after the Club closed, and wanted to know if that was okay with us. Since we had nothing planned, I said it was fine with me. My husband returned to the phone, telling him it was okay, and also letting him know that we expected a phone call at some point, letting us know what time he needed to come home.
Now.... fast forward to 9:00.... and still no phone call from my son. My husband was practically spitting nails, especially considering 1) we'd gotten him a cell phone, primarily for the purpose for keeping in touch with him at any given moment, and 2) we've expressed our frustration and disappointment with him about his "forgetfulness" before.
My husband left, storming out of the house to go retrieve our son from his friend's house. And of course, once my son got into the car, my husband lit into him about being more responsible and doing what he was told.
When he walked into the door, I gave him a piece of MY mind, too... probably reiterating everything my husband said. I told him that he was NOT going to keep turning into this kid I didn't know, and didn't like very much, because he felt like it. That he was going to quit doing what he felt like, going to bed when he felt like it, getting up when he felt like it, calling when he felt like it, going where he felt... it was all going to STOP. He mumbled, "Okay, Mom".... as he was reaching for his XBox Live game piece! (This was taken away from him at 10:00 the night before, because apparently, he has no self-control when he plays the dang thing, and stays up until the crack of dawn to battle all sorts of evil-wrongdoers, and can't get his hiney out of bed until the middle of the afternoon!).
I told him, "Don't you dare even begin to think that you're getting to play with that contraption tonight. And, if you don't stop acting like a little punk, your phone will be taken away from you FOR GOOD." I also reminded him that it was less than a month before he was back in school, which meant he had to get up even EARLIER than he did for middle school, so he had better start getting used to going to bed and getting up, or he was going to be in BIG trouble.
He went sulking off up to his room.
I hate, hate, HATE being the "bad guy" to my kids. But honestly, this boy, who never, ever gave me an ounce of trouble, is turning into some punk kid that I don't particularly like. So, a serious case of reeling in is in order. He's going to remain respectful, decent and kind.... even if it KILLS me! :)
Okay... off to give all of my husband's hard earned money away to the utility companies, the car companies, the Internet company, the dentist, the orthodontist.....