Moms Gone Manic

It's the possible explanation for you if you've ever agreed to the following:

Chaperoning a field trip to the zoo when it's 102 degrees outside.

Hosting a slumber party for 15 kids when you have to be up at 6:00 am the next morning.

Agreeing to be "room mom" when you can't remember any of the moms' names, kids' names, or even the teacher's name.  And which kid's school where you supposed to be at again?

Whipping up 15 homemade cupcakes for your kid's soccer team with each child's name spelled out...in mini M&M's.

Have you guessed?

It is not based in logic.  It is not born of kindness or generosity.  It is quite simply....

A Manic Episode.

Before the mental health experts jump down my keyboard, I'll qualify my definition of manic as a certain mom-related high whose cause is not limited to merely psychiatric elements.  It is a state of being brought about by any number of reasons, including:

• Too much coffee
• Too little coffee
• Not enough sleep
• Guilt over being employed
• Guilt over being unemployed
• Guilt over yelling at the kids too much
• Guilt over plugging the kids into the television on a nice day
• (The guilt thing can go on for a while, so we'll skip ahead)
• Finding $2 cereal at Dominick's
• Finding that your husband took out the garbage before he left for work
• Losing 3 pounds (albeit in water weight, but 3 pounds nonetheless)

As you can imagine, a mom gone manic is prone to doing things outside her norm.  After a week where I wasn't feeling particularly engaged with the kids, I stopped at 7-Eleven to get a coffee and added an extra 40 mg of caffeine via a Stok shot.  That's all it took.  Within an hour, I decided an art project was in order! 

From the depths of my 19-year-old former camp counselor brain, I pulled out an activity that I remembered kids really enjoying:  Popsicle stick boxes!  How fun would that be!

Of course it would be really fun for most kids.  But my kids are not like most kids.  How this went down:

DANIEL:  Mine's not perfect.  I want it perfect.  If it can't be perfect, I don't want to do it.  Why isn't this PERFECT?  I'm going inside to watch Star Wars.

JACK:  Um.  Is that glue?  I'll hand you the sticks, Mom.  You glue it.  I don't like to get sticky.  I'll let you know when it's how I want it.

JOEY:  Glue!  Gimme the glue!  I love GLUE!  Look at the glue in my HAIR, Mommy.  hahahahaha.  GLUE GLUE GLUE!

So that was Part I.

I contemplated taking a video, but the soundtrack would belie this more pleasant image that I'm saving in case the kids try to pull the whole "you ruined my life" thing later.

Of course Part II came the following day when my manic high was gone, but the boys clamoured to paint their now-dry popsicle stick boxes. 

Again, a synopsis:

DANIEL:  Tell Joey to stop mixing the colors together, Mom.  JOEY!  Stop putting your paintbrush in every color.  MOMMMM!  Joey is ruining EVERYTHING.

JACK:  Um.  This is really kind of messy, Mommy.  Can you just finish mine for me?  I want the top to be blue and the bottom green.  I'll let you know if it's okay when you're done.

JOEY:  PAINT!  I love paint!  Can I paint my hand, Mommy?  I'm going to paint Daniel's hand (Daniel explodes in rage).  hahahahahahahah  PAINT!

If Girls Gone Wild only knew what their futures held in store.