I'm Not Complaining

OK, well maybe I am.

A little. But just a little.

You know that post about DSSMD that I wrote? I wrote it because I need it. I wrote it because I married a man that is missing the gift giving gene, and when your husband is missing it it gets passed along to the next generation unwillingly.

Last week was the worst week in a very long time for several reasons, many of which I won't go into. Suffice it to say that I had to pick up the pieces of a few different situations that had absolutely nothing to do with me. I can handle it, fine, but I was also trying to be optimistic about the weekend that we had planned. So I laundered and cleaned in preparation for our departure on Friday. Off to Sin City with an (almost) renewed attitude and, albeit a little forced, smile on my face.

[The trip was semi-business related, but also for the boys. Supercross East Coast/West Coast Finals. Owners of my husband's company, clients, loud motorcycles, loud music, scantily clad women. Clearly not a trip for me, right? Dutifully, I shut my mouth to do what I needed to do.]

Friday afternoon we went straight to the New York, New York to have lunch and ride the roller coaster. HB #1 is now my Coaster Buddytm and we had a nice time wandering the casino. Headless Dad decided that it was time to go to our hotel so we could get a little rest before our evening. Made sense. Next: check in, nap for HD, I take boys to the pool. (Isn't it always the mom?) We had plans for the evening with business associates so we checked the kids in to a kid's club and had a lovely dinner with 3 other couples.

And that concludes the pleasant portion of the weekend.

Saturday was hot. And have I mentioned that we were in the middle of the desert? My kids have started to love the races, which is totally fine, and I don't mind watching our friend race-that part is exciting and fun, but have you ever been to a Motorcross or Supercross race? There is a lot of hurry-up-and-wait time. Did I mention that we were in the middle of the desert? It was hot. And windy. And HOT. And dusty.

HD had offered to cook for the Team and all of the guests which also put me in the position of 'second-tier hostess'. Which is 'fine' but also weird when it's not my motor home, not my stuff, not my call on a lot of things, er, anything. So between being the smiley corporate wife and watching my kids, I was also trying to help feed about 60 people.

Then my #1 son decided to do something not so smart. Supercross is sponsored by Monster Energy drinks and they flow freely at these events. Of course, since we were in Vegas HD told the boys to have whatever they wanted. (You can see it coming a mile away, right?) Yep, HB#1 had 3 of those damn things on a relatively empty stomach and was a shakey, almost pukey, mess. (I had suggested that 2 be the limit but was somehow over-ruled.) Luckily the food was ready and I was able to pump him full of protein and bread and water and he came around pretty quickly.

Once we got into the stadium I stepped in gum. Niiiice. Then an usher yelled at me for being in the wrong seat and kept telling me to move. (Our party had an entire row of seats and it didn't really matter which seat I was in.) Interestingly enough, she ended up being WRONG-she was reading the other ticket wrong and had the wrong row entirely. Surprised? Me neither. (She never apologized, either. *itch.) In the middle of all of that juggling I ended up dropping a $3 bottle of water under the bleachers where I couldn't reach it and realized that HB#2 had done the same. Double highway robbery, thankyouverymuch. I'm so glad that I gave a bottled water company $6. Ahem.

After the races were over we tried to get out of the parking lot. Note to UNLV Sam Boyd Stadium: Your traffic control measures SUCK. You clearly have never hosted a capacity event before. Your venue holds over 36,000 people and I only saw 3 traffic control people, and that includes police.  Our hotel was 5 minutes away and it literally took us 1 1/2 hours to exit the parking lot and get back to the hotel after the event was over. Unacceptable, Las Vegas. No wonder no one will consider moving a professional sports team to your city.

Which brings us to Mother's Day, and the reason that I started this post in the first place. My husband does not plan ahead for holidays/birthdays/Hallmark holidays. Which I know, and you'd think I'd be aware of by now, right? And possibly anticipate and not be upset by? And who knew that 3rd and 5th grades were the year that teachers stopped making gifts in class? So we got up and I packed for everyone (because apparently I'm the only one who knows how to throw dirty clothes in suitcases,) and we went and had a completely mediocre breakfast and got on the road. My lovely daughter got me a card, flowers, and an Amazon card, so clearly it's not a female related recessive gene. So at around 4:30 my husband takes the boys to get me cards. 4:30 on Mother's Day. He didn't even get me one. (Not that I'm his mother or anything but I did push 2 of HIS children out of my nether-regions.) Then comes home without dinner, which was supposed to be procured on the card mission. So he goes back out. (OK, that part is good. I didn't have to cook. Credit where credit is due.) To get Chinese. Not my favorite and only 1 dish out of 5 is something that I like. *sigh*

OK, I get it. It was a working weekend for him with his company and clients. We had a log day driving back and no one wanted to cook. I understand that. I'm just disappointed that with him knowing that all of this was going on that he couldn't go before the weekend and get me a card to say, "Hey, I know this is going to suck for you. Thanks for doing it for me and for the boys." I honestly don't think that would have been too much to ask for, but apparently I'm wrong.

So my incredibly long-winded post to rant about my sucky Mother's Day is over. Please don't tell me about the darling macaroni necklaces that you got, or the breakfast in bed, or the jewelery that your husband gave you. I'm just not ready to hear it yet.

Maybe tomorrow.