Our sweetie pies

Our sweetie pies

Saturday, March 12, 2011

green ice cream

Green ice cream. what screams more of processed food than green ice cream? I feel like I am eating manufactured something full of something else by placing each spoonful in my mouth. but that's what is in the freezer. green ice cream. it's dreyer's so atleast it has something natural in it. milk? it's not joe shmoe's green ice cream full of who knows what.

My earl grey tea is sitting in my jack skellington coffee cup (my coffee mug that says "beware of tired mom" was dirty), is waiting for my ice cream to soften so I can scoop it into a bowl and consume. tea must wait because I enjoy ice cream with my tea. or biscotti. or scone. or cookies or whatever sweet I can find. tea will be cold by the time ice cream warms up. hence the cycle will start of microwaving tea to match ice cream to enjoy both at perfectly warmed up and warmed down temperatures. then I get side tracked and tea gets cold while waiting and ice cream melts further and soon the enjoyment slowly melts and cools. intention was good. it was to be my treat after a long day. this is why I started walking again everyday. my relaxation involves some sort of chocolate and hot beverage after a stressful day. or long day. if I'm carrying a coffee, chances are it's my escape ticket.

my husband worked today from 730 am to 730 pm. with a horse shoe throwing contest for work thrown into the middle of that. consequently, I was on my own with four little kids and one being a diabetic for 12 hours today. teenager briefly helped but her punch card was tucked away for the weekend.

yesterday, my teenage daughter babysat for precisely one hour and 14 minutes for me to run to Trader Joe's. I think I have mentioned that this daughter of mine would rather die than take shots of insulin. luckily she is not the diabetic one. she used to break out into a sweat and mysteriously need a bathroom as soon as the doctor would walk into the examining room. even if she was there for a form for school or the wrong color of nail polish on her toenails, it would of course involve five surprise shots that she would be required to have to leave the premises. therefore, putting her in charge of my diabetic daughter is a little precarious. the issue used to be diapers. now it is blood checks. my older daughter would not change diapers. she would babysit but if they needed a diaper change, tough luck. emergency text and concert was over.

so, of course as I arrive at trader joe's, my cell phone spouts its last energy blip held in the battery as I try to send a text letting my daughter know I was at the store and be home in 30 minutes. phone tried delivering message than died.


now what?

what if my little sweetie suddenly drops and teenager refuses to check her and she goes into a coma, sweetie, not teenager, and I am not there to help?

I began circling trader joe's parking lot, frantically looking for a spot. a woman is waiting at stop sign in her car. waiting, waiting...looks like she is waiting for another car pulling out. not sure. I politely wait behind her then, counting the minutes to the coma, finally swerve around her to pass her and find a spot. well, at that very moment, she decides to move forward too. there we are, side by side, in the same lane, now blocking traffic on both sides of the pathway in the parking lot. argh! I finally speed around her and finally locate a spot. I head into the store and start grabbing items off of my list. Then I need the milk. the milk that is behind the large woman yelling at her two boys. she's telling one, "I don't feel well, you better listen to me. Get that milk, there! no, no. that one!" I say "excuse me" and she continues lecturing the boy about how he better understand the milk directions because they had just begun their shopping trip. I reach around her and grab the milk I need and maneuver my cart around them and continue on with my list.

the next aisle, I encounter another mom with two boys also that she is yelling at. what's with this shopping trip? trader joe's used to be my safe haven of cool mom's and hip people, wandering around buying imported cheese and organic chips? It reminded me of when we lived in Santa Barbara and everyone around you was earth conscious and recycled and loved late walks by the ocean on summer nights. some stores you go into, you know you will run into someone yelling at their kids. target, ross, walmart. but not trader joes.

This mom continues to yell at one boy for antagonizing the other boy and threatens, threatens, then offers a treat if they can be good for five minutes. super nanny, help! Again, I swerve around these people and grab my remaining items.

I get in line to check out and wait. woman in front of me is discussing her upcoming weekend plans and the bottles of wine that she is purchasing with the inquiring trader joe's employee. yes, chit chat is nice but not full conversation with stranger who was just making chit chat while meanwhile my daughter could be dying. or in a coma at least. or sitting in a dirty diaper. well she is potty trained but in the street playing or something like that. hurry up, gosh darn it! (I silently scream, because one of my redeeming qualities is my amazing amount of patience.)

so it's finally my turn and he begins to ask me about my weekend plans and how was my day today, etc. etc. what do I say? I was home all day with kids, one diabetic. haven't eaten lunch, dishes still in sink, haven't showered. just trying to get food for tonight. I tell him that this is my quick break from the kids. My teenage daughter is babysitting so I could just run to the store. He says, "hey!, do you want me to slow down then bagging your groceries, so you get a longer break? chuckle, smile." "no" I want to scream, I'm in a hurry! But I just calmly but assertively, urgently, say, "actually, I need to get home because my cell phone died and I'm worried how everything is going." "oh!, you don't want to find the house a mess?" yeah, something like that I say, or think, or find a diabetic child lying on the floor so low that she is about to pass out. I smile, take groceries, proceed to leave store, calmly but quickly maneuvering cart through crowd. while, I was ringing up, I noticed lady that was backing up traffic at stop sign was standing right next to me. afraid she would have something to say about me swerving around her, based on the energy I had already encountered in the store during this trip. but luckily she didn't. for being such a hip, whole foods, natural store, you sure run into a lot of edgy people there. definitely, not me however. now move!! I need to get home!!

As I am driving home, I remember the extra gallon of milk, I picked up for my mom. I debate, do I take it home and have her come get it? or swing by her house on the way? she does have a phone, I can call my daughter. I stop. I quickly place milk in frig and locate mom. "where is your cell phone??!! I need to text my daughter (she's a teenager, texting is most immediate means of communication) my phone has died!" we send her a text, no response in 17 seconds. slow for a teenager. I say I have to go and return to vehicle and head down the street.

I hear sirens as I drive. could they be heading to my house?? did my daughter call 911?? Is that why she didn't respond to the text? Is she busy talking to paramedics?? I push the pedal down a little harder and proceed to freeway. argh!! forgot road to our house is blocked off for construction. must swerve carefully but quickly through neighborhood. right turn, right turn, left turn, right turn, stop sign, right turn. almost there. everyone seems so happy hanging out in their driveways, walking, checking mail. don't they know I could have an emergency at my house?? just right there? up the street? to the right? yes, that house, right there??!!

I pull into the driveway. leave groceries till clearance is given. I open front door...and there is everyone happily playing.

teenager, normal matter of fact face looks at me as she finishes opening the front door with a greeting of "what?"

"didn't you get my text?? is everyone okay??" she responded right away to my text, she said. gramma knew. in fact they had a little text conversation after they both knew everything was fine. thanks for letting me in on that. where are my heart pills?

I grab the meter and check my diabetic daughter. 137. 137. no coma. no tears. just silliness and running around kitchen table. and giggles. and lots of helpers to bring in groceries.

I guess someone else needed the ambulance.

while I was typing this, my husband ate my green ice cream after I read to him my opening paragraph of this narrative. I firmly suggest to him that he could go buy me some "real" ice cream as my dad used to say. no imaginary stuff. something like java chip or heath bar crunch. white ice cream or brown, a little more natural looking. from the ice cream making cow.

so now I must reheat my tea and go sit down and watch supernanny. I think everyone is finally asleep.

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