I must start by warning you that at some point in this post I will admit to being a complete hormonal wreck with mascara running down my face… Now that we’ve got that out of the way…
K’s class has a bear. Paddington Bear to be more precise. It’s the same general idea as the class having a hamster or snake (well my class had a pet snake… didn’t yours?).
At the end of each day one of the kids get to take Paddington home with them where they play with him, read a book about him, torture him by singing songs to him until his stuffing falls out and then record something important on a piece of paper in the homework binder that comes with him.
This time the assignment, the task K was to complete, was to tell what her favorite thing she did with Paddington this year. Wouldn’t you know it, we never got Paddington on a weekend and we never had him on a day where we did anything remotely cool or fun… And she refuses to count the time that we went to the zoo with her friend S from class while she had Paddington. Why? Because that’s what S wrote about.
So while she and I walked home with Paddington in tow I decided that I would do something special tonight. I would find something fun so that she would have something special to say she did with Paddington Bear.
I called Mr. Kaos and told him of our predicament and I called in a favor. I asked him if we could please take K and Paddington out to dinner somewhere fun… he was tired… and cranky (as you would expect someone who works long hard hours and was just confronted with a wife “needing” to take a stuffed bear out to dinner) but he agreed. He asked that we please find somewhere to walk to instead of drive though, he was done with the car for the night.
So I thought.
and I thought.
and then I began to want. and want.
Want what? Chips, guacamole, cheese enchiladas and a giant margarita.
There’s a little Mexican restaurant by our house and so I began to hope that we might go there so I could have those chips, guacamole, cheese enchiladas and a giant margarita. K likes it there. Mr. Kaos likes it there (sometimes) and K ALWAYS wants to go OUT to eat.
I felt secure that my plan was a brilliant one. I took a shower, got dressed, put on make up, got K ready to go and when Mr. Kaos got home…
We sat to discuss what we would do with our evening. We learned that I was apparently the only one who wanted to go out to dinner. K was horribly opposed to going out of the house to go anywhere at all.
Take out was discussed.
I still had hope. The little Mexican restaurant? They totally do take out… and I have all the things to make margaritas at home. This could still work. Only it wasn’t working.
It wasn’t working AT.ALL.
K was talking about having a tiki party in the basement, or watching a movie. Or having a Tiki Party while she watched a movie. She wanted appetizers and tiki juice and a Muppet movie.
Or pizza. She wasn’t sure.
So I excused myself to my room.
Why? Because I was getting really unreasonably upset about the fact that no one wanted to go to dinner but me. Because I was getting irrationally unhappy that I had gotten dressed and put on make up. I was getting bizarrely emotionally injured by the fact that I tried to do something nice for K and that little Paddington Bear but no one wanted my niceness. No one cared. They wanted to do their own nice thing.
And I wanted them to be able to do something nice which is why I left the room I told them that they should decide what we were going to do and then let me know when they were done.
So in my room I curled up on my bed taking deep breaths and waiting for the verdict. Waiting to find out what exactly I was to spend my evening doing…
K came in to tell me that we were having movie night and Chinese take-out.
I actually laughed and asked “Does daddy know that? Because the place we get our Chinese take out is all the way back in Hillsboro on daddy’s way home from work”
“Oh” she said and wandered back out.
Mr. Kaos came in a few moments later to tell me what their plans were (to make appetizers and watch a movie at home and to never ever ever leave the house again… at least for the night).
I got noticeably upset. I laid my head upon my pillow and sighed and told him that they should go get started since bed time was in two hours. He knew I was upset and was for some reason obsessed with telling me there was stuff that I could make a burrito with…
I did not care.
This is the point when I started to cry. This is the part where my girly girl hormones took over entirely and forced me to my knees streaking my face with mascara heavy tears (I have a hot tip on some waterproof mascara that may stand up to this condition a little better). This is the part where I tell you that I cried, CRIED, because I could not have what I wanted when I was trying to do something nice for my daughter and her class bear.
Yes that’s right. I wanted to do something nice and I was devastated that they didn’t enjoy my niceness… that they instead created niceness that they invited me to enjoy.
17 thoughts on “what to do with paddington bear…”
Aren’t they great? I love them. They make me so not happy about anything. I love crying over little things that mean nothing to anyone but me. That mean the WORLD to me…..I hope it passes quick..(I had this great comment written, hit post and it DISAPPEARED! This one just isn’t as witty.)
That sort of thing happens to me a lot actually. Especially when I’m late for my period (yes, I’m even irregular when I’m on the pill…f-ing pill). The thing to remember is that you were upset over something silly, but NICE silly. You weren’t being selfish in a self absorbed way. Does that make sense?No?Maybe?
Dang kids don’t appreciate anything these days, do they? ;)I would have cried too. I hate putting on makeup for no good reason.When my kid had the stuffed animals (dogs in our case) he put them on his bicycle seat and pushed them around then wrote about how the dogs went for a ride on his bike.
I am SO glad I’m not the only who does this! Neil thinks I’m completely mental when I break down just because things aren’t happening how I planned for them to. He just doesn’t get it. I’ve got a whole day at home to plan out my evening in meticulous detail and he comes home and wrecks it. Silly man.Yeah…it’ him…not me. =P
I so totally get this. And I am dreading it this month, because, I already feel like I am approaching the 7th circle of hell. Sigh. At least your hell comes with appetizers and the muppet movie. I hope you got a good tiki drink out of the deal….
Being a girl sucks ass.
yes! yes yes yes!!!and god forbid! you know if i even slightly start to get a little bit affected? i get the ‘chill out’s and the ‘relax’s. i’m gonna chill YOU out, you dish-non-washer! you get *me* some food for a change!!!crap. i’m going to bed. people bring *me* stuff in my dreams. . . and in my dreams? no hormones!!!
It’s not just hormones, though. All the trying all the thinking about even Paddington’s experiences, shit, it just piles up. It just shouldn’t be that hard, right?
deb: exactly.holly: thats it.. Bring him here…. I’m kickin his ass.tIM: Sometimes I love it… other times i want to kill my girlness. kill kill kill.Mie: 12th circle here… but I’m coming back now.Kimberly: Oh my bob. I so feel you here.BV: I’m glad you get the makeup aspect cause damn… I had to wash my face, deal with my face, put makeup on my face and then wash all that damn mascara off my cheeks… Plus? I put on the bra that makes my tits look REALLY jaunty.lilac: the pill messed me up beyond beliefbw: it’s okay. I love you even when you aren’t witty.
Oh babe. I SO get it.
Hormones … scary things … not to be trusted … poor you. Mine come in silver packets now. I lurve them. In the days of real hormones the Captain used to ring before leaving work just to see if I was sitting astride the roof taking out the neighbours with a AK47.So looking forward to chatting :)
aw poor cami.i totally get it girl.
Cami they are evil. Mine have gone mad and I’m having to have some treatment. I’m losing hair and everything. I’m going to turn into a crazy bald old lady. Damn.But I’ll be fine for tomorrow though. Oh yes. Hee hee. Can’t wait. x
Jo: I’m sorry they’ve gone made. I’m getting ready to make an appointment with my doc about mine… it’s out of hand.angel: yeah I saw your post today, you do get it.belle: just one comment over here and I already think I love you. Looking forward to our chat!Flutter: xo
Ya know what Cami? You are ALLOWED to cry! It is perfectly 100% OK normal to do that and to do it in response to a disappointment…DBT group therapy has taught me much about responding to situations; as guilty and stupid and angry as I would feel when I cried in response to something (and blame it on hormones, being fat, having a zit, a nosebleed, you name it)…I now tell people that I AM ALLOWED TO CRY…they need to get a life and get over it….let me be!You ARE a good mommy!
Hormones are the craziest thing. About 99% of the time I feel like a rational human being, and then something like the boyfriend gardening when I want to play in the kitchen will send me into hysterics. FOR NO GOOD REASON. Sometimes it’s horribly unfair to be a girl. And, putting on makeup and doing my hair and then having nowhere to go usually pushes me over the edge too. I love you! Just as much as I did when I was 10 years old and you’d trade me your blue and yellow eyeshadow for some hot pink lipstick.
tbb: How did I not know you had a blog… or is this your sneaky way of telling me. xoxohotmamamia: You are so awesome.