Mr. Ping: Once I had a dream that I ran away to make tofu.
Po: Then why didn’t you?
Mr. Ping: Because it was a stupid dream.
Kung Fu Panda (2008)
Two months since my last update… I wish I could say that I was too busy with my not launched yet business or too involved in my kids gala fundraiser…But the truth is that I just don t know what to write lately because I seem to have become a mere observer of my own family life.
I am finding myself energy less and as if I was watching a freaking Street Fighter 6 straight to DVD movie.
It is ugly. Pure and Simple. L is hitting P with a wooden pan resulting in her sporting a terrifying black eye for s week, G is slamming the patio door on L’s hand, P is calling G ‘poop’ all day long and so on and so on.
No rules and no winners; just 2 overtired and overworked referees who get to intervene every 5 seconds to ensure no one actually dies.
I am talking about children who manage to turn a picnic in Central Park into a fucking massacre. Let’s rewind to that infamous Saturday that has become our new benchmark for what hell must be like.
The scene: Central Park, first real day of spring, jolly mood everywhere.
Birds are singing, young lovers are giggling, new parents are cuddling their precious baby (poor bastards, they have no idea), flowers are finally blooming everywhere…But me, I get to enjoy SHITE. G has decided that Upper East Side must be more interesting than the west side so took off. Just like that. No good byes,no ‘thanks mom for all your hard work these last 4 years but you guys suck with your middle class picnic basket, I am going to chance it out on my own for a while. Ciao’. Nope, no warning. Gone he was so DH went on his trail. For what seemed eternity.
Meanwhile, L climbed into a prohibited area of the park to take a mud bath and step onto precious flora before running in circles so I could not catch him. P had the bad idea of ‘helping out’ by getting inside only to catch the attention of a park ranger who was two words away from giving me a fine but decided that shaming me was probably punishment enough.
‘Madam they are your responsibility, you should have never let them get inside in the first place…’
Thank you Sir. I shall put this piece of advice next to the comment from that ‘I am better than you’ woman who two weeks ago went out of her way to tell me after seeing me struggling with my two boys on the street:
‘You have no control, do you? And don’t say it is because you have two of them. It’s no excuse, I had 4.’
Why don t you fucking help me then, bitch??? Instead of judging me.
Anyway. The first picnic of the season was an EPIC failure. And I am really freaking out about it because I thought nice weather would make my life easier. Throughout the whole winter I was convincing/brainwashing myself ‘be patient, when they can run outside, everything will be different, it will be awesome. You’ll see’. What a fucking disappointment… Worse than the day I lost my virginity. Really.
DH and I thus did the unthinkable : flee Central Park on a sunny day. We locked ourselves in our bedroom waiting for the 3 of them to calm the fuck down. They did. Something beautiful happened: they all napped. At the same time. Sigh. They slept 2 hours!
Probably co-developing the script for Street Fighter 7: the Apocalypse days….