Anyone who has ever flown into a rage and said something inappropriate has been counciled by some well-meaning do-gooder to "just relax and count to ten" The idea being that by stopping and distancing yourself from the immediate situation you have enough time to cool off and organize your thoughts. Thus allowing your brain to release enough of the anger and give yourself a chance to say something more positive and less likely to cause permanent damage.
As a mother you learn to do this counting break quite early. I think Teddy was 9 months old and trying to pull everything off the coffee table when I started counting as a way from killing everyone around me. Now that I have three kids, pretty much my entire awake life is broken up into small, yet manageable 10 second intervals.
Unfortunately, sometimes counting to ten isn't enough. Sometimes your brain gets jabbed in the eye enough in too short of a time period that counting to ten simply isn't enough time to remember any reason not kill everyone around you in a 15 foot radius.
Those moments are called School Holidays.
I dragged my kids out to the shops this morning not because I wanted to, no...but because I was asked to. Young Master Thadeus needed to pre-order one of his new spiffy games and since he needed parental permission for it (Don't judge...I don't authorize every game he asks for. But this game lets him kill 18th Century English and I'm pretty cool with that) I decided to bite the bullet and turn this errand to my advantage and get some needed chores done.
After cementing my name in the I'M A BAD MOTHER AND LET MY POOR IMPRESSIONABLE CHILD PLAY HORRIBLE DANGEROUS VIDEO GAMES wall of fame we marched down to Target to buy new thongs for the girls.
Yes, I said thongs. Americans, I haven't lost my mind completely - thongs are what we call flip flops. I've learned not to openly flinch when I say I'm buying my daughters thongs. However I will go to my grave cringing when Teddy tells me he's run out of rubbers. Sure, I know now he means erasers but there is just something so wrong about it that I can't cover up my horror. In the interest of assimilating with the culture as much as I can, I try to roll with it.
After the fashion parade and the game of, "Which thongs best match my eyes?" we headed out of shoes and somehow Connor got onto the topic of Horus the Egyptian God. That's not suprising. Obscure, random topics of conversation are the norm in our family. No, the issue here was that Connor was lamenting that her friend Ellen having difficulty remembering how to pronounce the name Horus. Tessi was shocked and amazed to learn that anyone in Year Four had any such problems and casually responded with, "Wow, she can't say whores?!"
If you have ever met Tessi you know that her casual response actually is more of a scream registered at a high decibel. She is the smallest person in our family yet her lungs and feet can make more noise than a heard of stoned elephants. Her reply came out more like, " WOW!!!!!! SHE CAN'T SAY W..H..O..R..E..S!!!!!??"
All attempts to get her to quiet down and understand that whores was actually Horus fell on deaf ears. "Yes, WHORES! I know. That's what I said! Stop correcting me. Why can't you understand me?!" All at the top of her lungs. What was almost as loud as her whore-call was the sound of Teddy laughing. I simply walked away saying out loud, "This is Ted Tencza's sister" Teddy was laughing too hard to be horrified at being outed like that.
I paid for the shoes and left as quickly as possible. Again, stupidly trying to be nice I offered them Morning Tea at the doughnut place. $26 for 4 damn donuts, 3 juices and 1 Diet Coke. Gee....why DON'T we go out more often? It's a mystery. Still we were out and the $2 store was right there and I need to start collecting goodies for the annual Tencza Bring the Word of Halloween to Australia party. Mustering up my courage, I herded them over and we began looking at the trinkets for sale.
Bloody Hell. I know better. I've had kids for thirteen years and I know that taking all three of them out to a store that none of them are interested in is a recipe for disaster. But no, I just had to keep pushing my luck. I chalk it up to Beginning of the School Holidays arrogance or sheer mental block of the LAST school holidays.
I mention to my hoarde that I need witches hats and send them looking for and of course, none could be found. That's because my kids aren't interested in witches hats. Connor attempted to sucker me into buying her a wig so she can have long straight red hair instead of her long straight brown hair for Halloween. Tessi wanted to see the stuffed, hissing cat I was holding so she kept trying to rip it out of my hand. Teddy? Teddy had ordered his game 30 minutes ago and he was done. All he wanted was to get the Hell out of the shops before someone from school saw him standing with this hot mess we call a family. Me? I just wanted some black card stock, a few witches hats and some spider webbing...maybe an adorable little zombie mask. Really, it wasn't that much to ask for.
By the time I was feeling the twitch start in my left eye I knew it was past time to leave. I told Connor to live with brown hair, Tessi if she didn't stop trying to yank things out of my hands I would shave her Barbie dolls heads and I informed Teddy that I could quite easily post a picture my little Teddy swoogums to HIS Facebook page. Then I stormed to the counter to pay for the items and of course....find the damn witch hats as we walk out of the store and we head up the travelator to get to the parking garage.
Climbing off of the travelator Connor mentions to me that this was the wrong travelator and we are not parked in this section. She knew that as we were getting on the travelator but it didn't seem like a big deal to her. We bob and weave through the parked cars trying to get to the right section for the car and as we ruck up to it (parked right NEXT to the correct travelator I might add) I noticed that neither girl is holding the pair of thongs I bought them.
Me: Where are your shoes?
Connor: Shoes?
Me: Yes, shoes. Where are the shoes I just bought you both?
Connor: You mean the thongs?
Me: (pause...blink..blink..pause) FINE...the thongs. Where are the thongs that I just bought you?
Tessi: Oh, I don't have mine.
Me: Yes, I can see that. WHERE ARE THEY?
Connor and Tessi together: I think they're back at Donut King.
That's when I started counting to ten. I began counting because I knew that if I didn't, that I was going to say something so obscene, foul and so cruel the police would have the authority to shoot me on site. Of course, I think I would have welcomed death at that moment. Something in my face - maybe it was my lips making the counting shapes, I'm not sure, but something made everyone stop and then quietly move in unison back towards the travelator.
Mid-death march I added sound to my counting as a way of reinforcement. I was at 47 by the time we made it back inside the shops. 59 before we were back to Donut King and found the shoes. I lost my place at 78 as we got halfway up the ramp because Tessi tripped on my feet so I started over at 70. I was able to point and mouth MOVE by about 95 and was at 110 when we got into the car. At 117 I was finally able to string a sentence together without the words God, damn, kidding, and a few other rather choice words on my go-to swear list.
I was able to state rather politely that no one was ever ask me to do anything nice for them...ever again. I really made an impression upon them as well because it was a good solid hour before anyone asked me for something. That's about two lifetimes in kids time. Almost enough time for me to count to ten....to the google power.
