Rainbow Dash died on my watch

Rainbow Dash died yesterday. One of the world’s most annoying dogs decided she had to go. To add insult to injury, she was left in shredded pieces outside my 10 year old’s door.

The guilty party.

I’d like to tell you my 10 is too old for My Little Pony except they have a television show now and it’s actually fairly cute and sweet. It’s essentially 30 minute lessons about how to be a good friend and help others. What kind of hag wouldn’t be in favor of their kid clinging to their youth and watching that crap? Not this one is all I know. So let’s shove popcorn in our faces and binge watch them on the DVR. A beanie baby Rainbow Dash even appeared in her Easter basket.

Sadly, the 10 year old made the mistake of leaving the door to her room open yesterday and the rest is history.  The 10 year old was overly tired so there were tears shed. Poor sweet little Rainbow Dash. We’ll never forget you. Especially since you are so easily replaced courtesy of Amazon Prime.

Despite my deep and abiding sympathy for the tragic loss of Rainbow Dash, her stuffing is still scattered on the landing at the top of our stairs. That’s because it’s been a long couple of days. It’s the end of the school year and 320 million activities seem to be crammed into the last 2 weeks of school. I’m ready to rip my hair out trying to keep track of everything that is going on and everything I need to be doing to be ready for everything that’s coming up.

My memory hasn’t been great the last couple of months.   The last two weeks it's been frazzled and nonexistent. I’m now handling issues day by day without any planning ahead. It’s awesome. It also means my sink is periodically full of dishes and this gets on my nerves and adds to the awesome. Yesterday the only thing on the schedule was volleyball. I spent my “free time” catching up on the aforementioned dishes. My life is one giant party. I’d probably feel less worn out if my entire weekend hadn’t been sucked down the black hole of kids’ activities only to lead directly into another busy week.

Sunday was the biggest black hole of them all with my daughter’s first dance recital. They make a big fuss over it and do it at a big theater downtown. She’s been looking forward to it for months and slightly obsessed with everything about it. Her enthusiasm is so sweet it sort of renews my faith in the universe.  But the heavy lift getting there was all me. Costumes, stuff to go with costumes, the right color tights for each costume, hair net, bobby pins and pretty much my life’s blood.

Post recital. Hungry but above average delighted by the entire experience.

I thought the week leading up it was stressful with extra rehearsals and running around to get everything. But then the actual day of the recital they had a dress rehearsal in the afternoon at the actual theater. My kid’s first scheduled time was 1:40. We’re supposed to be there 30 minutes early just in case so we needed to be there at 1:10. We’d need roughly 30 minutes to get there so now we’re leaving the house at 12:40. And we were going to do her hair and makeup before we left the house so now my day is starting at 11:30. Right after I feed everyone and run to the grocery store for the week.  And we did not return to the house after the recital until 8 pm that night.  8 hours later.  Sigh.

How happy the make up and the costumes and the dancing make this kid is clearly the motivating force here. 

My kid danced in three numbers that lasted roughly 10 minutes total during the recital.  But I sat through another 2 hours and 20 minutes of other people’s kids dancing. I’m told I’m lucky her 3 dance numbers were spaced out during the recital so I always had something to look forward to during the other 2 hours and 20 minutes. Too bad I had an 8 year old boy in tow because his father was out of town for work.

My 8 year old would like it noted that 8 hours of watching girls in tutus is not his idea of a good time. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of taking one for the team and that I should buy him a car or something as a token of appreciation. At minimum, he gets dibs on the television remote until September.

One 10 year old on the edge of her seat for her turn. One bored 8 year old. He got exponentially more bored after the fake iPad battery died an hour into our 8 hour journey.

And who knew what a total beat down dance was for the parents?!?  I seriously never knew that.  My daughter is now trying to explain to me why she should try out for the dance company team. I feel confident that involves more long days and more cosmetology related duties for me. Sigh.

Walk Like an Egyptian number.  Duh.  It blew her mind that her father and I guessed the name of the song she was dancing to just by seeing the costume.

As if 8 hours sitting in a dark theater waiting for my kid’s turn to dance wasn’t enough, I came home to discover my refrigerator was again on the fritz again. We’ve had it fixed 3 times since living the cooler life last month. It’s been a joy. It was Sunday night. We were tired. I decided not to worry about the fridge until morning.

Then I went to make everyone something quick to eat before bed and discovered I’d successfully flooded the fridge with water thanks to a Tupperware container with a crack in it. Egg cartons were literally disintegrating from soaking in a pool of water all day and then I successfully flooded the kitchen floor trying to take care of it.  Then I went and laid down on a heating pad and told everyone I was done for the day. No one was allowed to need anything else from me. We watched another riveting episode of some stupid Disney channel show and called it a night. Mostly because I was ready to go to bed. So everyone else had to go to bed, too, regardless of how they felt about it.

If only that worked for other things. Sort of like the other mothers that want to keep emailing about terrific new ideas for more end of the year crap we can all add to our overburdened schedules. Like our kids will be scarred for life if we don’t do snow cones at the park Friday afternoon after a full day at Field Day. Because, you know, there won’t be any popsicles or anything at that event. We definitely need snow cones. Much like last week we needed bowling and laser tag. Much like this weekend we need an overnight space camp.  I’m officially drowning.

Someone asked me if I signed my daughter up for a volleyball camp that’s coming up in June. I told the other mother that the idea of willingly signing up for anything at this point make my skin crawl. The calendar is full, people. Make it stop. Either that or stick my husband on a plane and send him home from his work trip. Or tell my dogs to stop waking me up at 3 am every night. Or tell my kids to stop dirtying dishes. Even work is super hectic. I'm just so done.  Tag me out.