Friday, August 28, 2009

Party like a rockstar Mom!

Today I decided I'd live it up and take the kiddos down to the track; the MotoGP is in town and my son is in looooove with anything on wheels, so it was a natch. Captain America (aka my husband) was already at the track and had taken the bike because he also got to take the bike ON the track for a lap or two (and get yelled at by track officials and cops for going too fast).

Anywayyyyy, I came to the very quick realization that going to the track during a race weekend is yet one more thing on the staggering list of What Not to Do with Small Children. I had my purse, a backpack and two kids to drag through half the track (3.whatever miles long) until we could rendevous with Daddy. That ended up being about 1.5 miles of my kids running, tripping, spazzing, crying, begging to be held, refusing to be held and generally causing me enough stress that at one point I threatened to leave them with the lovely cosmopolitan European couple who thought they were sooo cute. I'm pretty sure they were so lovely AND cosmopolitan because they were child-free.

Once we found Daddy, he couldn't understand why I wasn't in a great mood, bursting with joy and humming 'What I got' or something. Welllll, let's just say after waiting about 25 minutes in line for a $4 hot dog (because food AND blankets were accidentally left at home - the horror!) he figured it out. Kids = not fun at race activities.

Top off the adventure with the fact that my 4 year old's ears are apparently sensitive enough to hear a frog crap in the rain forest, and you'd guess that bikes going close to 200 mph might make her a little wiggy. You'd be right. She announced (after we hiked up the 5,000 steps - yes I counted dammit) that she really just wanted to go home. Vanessa announcing that is sort of like the breeze kicking up right before the hurricane hits land - you'd better board up your house and get the hell out while the gettin's good. So being the good (and wise) parents we are, we hopped back down the 5,000 stairs and walked back to the car, past all the loonies in khaki shorts yelling in my face if I had tickets (yes dipshit! How do you think I got IN??!) and drove straight off for home.

Except straight off really involved me driving alllllll the way around the track because Mister Precious Pants didn't want to hike his pretty self all the way across to his bike when me driving him was oh-so-easy! And convenient! For everyone NOT me! Ahem. After doing a U-ey in front of about 456 irate drivers, I was able to leave the track behind for the day and head for home. And yes, if you were somewhere on the west side of Indy today behind a dark blue sedan that may or may not have been weaving erratically with a woman seemingly flailing in the car, that was me. It's just not easy to spank small children when you're doing 80 on the freeway, po-lice catch me if you can.....

Because I like to drop rap lyrics whenever possible yo.

Comments, questions, points of rebuttal?