The monster at the end of this day

Side Note:
Dear Rude Kijiji Bozo: "That one may smile and smile and be a villan." What a waste of my day!

Have you ever read to your children the Sesame Street Grover book called, "The Monster at the End of this Book?" It's great, and if you can muster even an ounce of animation to your voice as you read it, the kids eat it like candy. (Warning, not a good bedtime book - they just get too darn excited.) Well I was reading it for the 4th day in a row feeling exceptionally worn out and grumpy and the thought occurred to me that I was being "The Monster at the End of the Day." It amused me to go through the book reading the actual words but making it my own story. [For anyone not familiar with the story Grover reads the title on the cover and gets scared. Each page turned brings him closer to the monster at the end of the book, so he tries many different ways to avoid the situation only to find he himself is the monster.] I can't remember the whole thing, and I'm not about to go into the girl's rooms and risk a wake up just to cross reference, but here's the parts I remember...
"Oh no! Did that say there would be a Monster at the end of the day??? Oh no, I am fed up with monsters! Wait... If you girls are very very good, maybe there will not be a monster at the end of the day. *Gasp* You are not being very very good. Please, please, please, if you will be very good then I will bribe you with meaningless stuff... No? Not going to fall for it? Well what if I lock myself in my room just to have some mommy quiet time. There is no way you will find me in - oh, you found me already. Well if you do not ask me for meals and snacks and toys and games and everything you usually ask for repeatedly, then maybe the minutes and hours will not tick away so quickly. Oh, I see you are old enough to know how to help yourself now. Well maybe if you do not push and shove each other, and if the hostility was at a minimum, maybe then the monster would not come at the end of the day. *End of the day.* Mommy is tired and she has had enough. Now put on your jammies quietly, and don't fight and brush your teeth and maybe just maybe I will read you a story, but only one because coincidentally, mommy is the one who turned into a monster at the end of the day."
Perhaps some introspective reflection is in order, but more likely to happen is that I have a hot cup of tea and go to bed, (because even monsters need their beauty sleep.)

PS, dear Kijiji person. I get your angle, it was just very frustrating. And since I didn't call you any names to your face, (or to your in-box,) I will say sorry for quoting Shakespeare at you in a rude and ticked off manner. And I forgive you for you-know-what.

Why it's called what it is

I was at the doctors office with my two girls and one of them hit the other one while the doctor was doing an assessment of why my oldest girl is a once-in-a-while fainter. (Of course right? I really thought I had outdone myself bringing a library book about little girl pirates, and my accent was spot on, but who am I kidding and what was I thinking? And also, what does the doctor do that makes me wait longer than the duration of three library books, even at 10:30 am? Are you that behind already? {I love my doctor if she's reading this, and even if she's not reading this you can tell her I think she's great.}) So knowing she's a doctor, and knowing she's also a mom, (with a career: a doctor career,) I feel extra pressure to be a cool, confident mom with just the right discipline technique delivered with a measure of grace and swiftness, so I said, "T, you say sorry to S." She said, "NO," which by the way is one of her most pronounced and articulated words. Then she pouted in a corner. I wasn't overly embarrassed, but all the same, I wondered what my next move would be... I mean a time-out in a teeny tiny room with everyone still inside seems pointless... and that's when I notice the doctor covering her face with her hand so T doesn't see her laughing. I caught the giggles too, and copied the hand to face technique of soundless laughter that moms throughout the ages have practiced when appropriate. It was pretty funny; I was just so caught up in giving a good impression that I almost missed it.
I therefore submit to you, dear reader, my blog, "When Not to Laugh Out Loud," which I see as being a series of anecdotal therapy for my stressed out friends in similar situations, and for myself so I can always remember. (And for selfish reasons because I like humor involving parentheses and you just don't get that sense of ( ) in a conversation.)