The Queen's Rambles

Welcome to my new friends! I would post a small introduction, but I’m too tired. I love October, but it also kicks my butt. Just so you know, we live in the DC area and my mom is visiting us for five weeks. This is generally a good thing. I have a kindergartner and an 18 month old. I am happily married to Mike, the Swedish Stud.

Erik, my newly minted six year old, has a birthday party tomorrow. He is a social butterfly and has ideas. He’s not content to just have a party. He has to dictate the decor, the cake, the games, the guest list. Everything! Of course, it’s his party and I’m happy to make it special for him. I just didn’t know little boys were supposed to care so much.

He wanted a dirt cake, and after creating and discarding several plans I ended up making a shit load of cake from scratch. Why? WHY? WHY?????

Cake from mixes generally gives me a tummy ache and I have a great recipe for one bowl yellow cake, so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.

The first double batch was fine, but by the time I hit the stirring portion of my second double batch I was getting a little worn.

I made the frosting, crushed chocolate graham crackers, hunted down choc o rocks at the Amish Market.

I’ve never heard of them before, but I’ve seen them there several times. They taste horrible, but they look exactly like fancy little rocks. I couldn’t find them and was starting to panic, but at the last second I found two bags shoved way in the back next to the candy cigarettes. Why do the Amish sell our children candy cigarettes?

Anyway, the cake is done. It’s crawling with gummy worms, spider rings, plastic snakes and plastic frogs. I’ll take a picture tomorrow. I had to seriously let go of my perfectionist tendancies. A pile of dirt isn’t supposed to look pretty, right?

I took the whole thing to the basement, but it was too big to fit in the fridge door. Good thing I nixed the plan of filling it with custard. It weighed more than Elsa, I think. Could a cake really weigh almost 30 pounds?

In the midst of all this cake crazy, I had to get myself together and go volunteer at the school.

They were having a school carnival, so I did what any mommy would do and volunteered for an hour shift.

Little did I know that very few parents are actually involved with the PTA. I don’t blame them, either. It was my first PTA experience and I could be totally wrong, but those women seemed like gossipy bitches. Ugh. I want to keep my involvement to a minimum. I’ve got enough on my plate with the MOMS Club, an organization I really enjoy with people I like to hang out with. I don’t need to saddle myself with a bitch posse. I’ll volunteer for specific events like this, but that’s it.

I’m a former teacher, so I volunteered for the hardest station: Bingo!

Honestly, it would have been really easy but I had a middle school girl helping me out. I wanted to cause this girl bodily harm, but I’m an adult and I don’t assault children but if any ever girl deserved a swift kick in the pants it was this girl.

She wanted to be in charge and let me know right away that she thought she was the better woman for the job. Yeah. Because an 11 year old is so much more qualified for running 16 kids through a bingo game than an experienced teacher.

Her job was really simple: collect tickets and hand out prizes. She didn’t want to do this job. She wanted to call the numbers and when I wouldn’t let her, she would talk right over me after I called the numbers and repeat them in a whiny voice. I have a very loud voice that carries well and I know how to use it in a crowded situation. I was trying to make it fun and make everything very clear, but it was rough with her trying to butt in and control things.

The kicker was when a little boy called bingo and she chastised him for talking. She announced that you aren’t supposed to just shout out bingo–you are supposed to raise your hand instead. Myself, a grandma, and two moms set her straight on that. She disappeared after that little incident and some boy appeared in her place. I thought I was home free, but then she showed up again and stood right where I needed to be to call the numbers. I asked her nicely to step aside a couple of times, but I finally was a little short with her and told her she needed to go stand by the door.

My mom thought I was nuts for volunteering to do anything at the carnival, but I honestly thought it was fun. I’m bossy by nature and like to goof around with kids who are having fun. If I don’t have to nag them to do work, we’re golden together. If I would have had a better volunteer I wouldn’t have felt stressed out at all.

My mom took Erik around while I was working and she was wiped afterwards, poor thing. Being a grandma is hard work. Plus, she’s still depressed over the loss of my dad so she’s not functioning at full capacity so I think the whole thing was a little much for her.

Erik had a blast. I think it was basically the equivalent of Disneyland for him. His poor little mind will be blown if we ever take him to a real amusement park.

And that was that. I have a few things left to prepare for the party, but overall I think everything is ready to go and tomorrow shouldn’t be too stressful. The main problem is that I have a very specific agenda and plan for getting things done. Even when I share the agenda no one seems to think my agenda needs to be followed. It’s enough to make my head explode. Don’t they know that I’m all knowing and all seeing? If I can’t be the boss of the world, I can be the boss of the damned fruit tray, right?