When I have too much on my plate, or when I am feeling overwhelmed, or anxious about something, this is what I do:
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Right. See that empty space up there? It's nothingness. Nothing. When my brain is over loaded, I do nothing. I procrastinate, I wait, I hope someone else will do all of the things I have to do, I wait some more, I panic, then eventually I suck it up and jump in head first. Today seems to be one of those "jumping in" sort of days: Updating here, finishing the 125 loads of laundry that I started 3 days ago, mopping the sticky floor, making doctor appointments, wrapping some presents, you get the point. Onto more interesting things (because no one gives a shit about why I haven't written anything in this space for 6 days and I'm sure no one cares that LittleJuJu has strep throat and an ear infection and I have strep throat and I'm finally feeling human again today thanks to antibiotics and blah,blah,blah).
I'd like to just go ahead and say that Mr. JuJu and I are terrible parents. Terrible, selfish parents who decided that our happiness, our freedom away from children for one night, was more important than making our son the happiest little boy in the world. We are awful and we are going to burn in the firey depths of hell. That's right. LittleJuJu has a love for the band U2, like you have never seen a five year old boy love anything before. For a good two years he lived and breathed Bono, he dressed like him, searched each store for the perfect Bono sunglasses, learned every lyric to every song on every album (maybe only two albums, but whatever, he's FIVE), watched the concert DVDs and choreographed his own moves to the music. We lied. We never told him that we went to the concert without him last Friday night. In order to fuel my guilt, I will supplement this post with an occasional picture of my son...mirroring his idol (who may never tour again and therefore we kept our child from ever seeing his favorite rock band ever perform in front of a live audience).
The concert was fantastic. It was freeeeezing and we had special floor tickets, which allowed us to enter the arena through a special door and not have to wait in the mile long line outside in the frigid cold and wind. Yes, I was feeling smug and important as we walked past all of the cold, miserable poor souls. Again, another reason to burn in the firey depths of hell. SUCKAS!
I've really never been so close to such a famous band before. I've stood close to no-name bands and small cover bands and even some kinda big names before but seriously, we were like 20 feet from them. Do I sound silly? I don't care. I live in Ohio for Christ's sake, it's not like the celebs are eating lunch in my mall each day. Just when I was getting over the guilt factor, I turned just in time to see a small boy, perhaps the same age as my son with his father. He looked so excited and his dad was placing earplugs in his ears. I was sooo close to having fun...stupid kid.
Yes, he has been a fan since he was in diapers. So the concert was great, it really was. Mr. JuJu and I had a wonderful time. Oh right, I forgot to mention that at one point Bono pulled a little boy (a different little boy, no less) up onto stage and let him perform a bit and it was just the cutest thing ever and the only way I could have felt worse was if our son had been at home watching us attending the concert and having fun without him via a hidden camera.
Sorry LittleJuJu. When you grow up big and have children of your own someday, and when you live in a town with no family and no babysitter, I promise that you will make the same sorts of choices. Think of your parents, Honey. We needed this.
I know you gave me strep throat as some sort of twisted punishment, and that's ok. I forgive you.