Day Dream Believer

Today we went to an indoor playcentre, just my 3 kids and myself. I mean 3 kids and my-hopelessly-optimistic-but-never-learns-her-lesson-glutton-for-punishment-self. Yes, it was a 30min drive from home and I was all alone, but I thought it would be worth it, for them and for myself. You see, in my daydreams, I thought I could go to this place, usher my children into a quiet but fun and sparsely populated play area, and curl up in a leather wing chair with a coffee and a skeezy historical romance novel while casually watching them frolic out of the corner of my eye.

Yeah, and buff, tanned, yet sensitive men in togas would play harps while floating on gossamer wings around me...

The reality: My backpack with the romance novel (and all my dreams) is dropped at the front door as my children tear off into the playcentre in 3 different directions with their coats and boots still on, as I give chase and find one and then turn to catch the next one and the first one I caught is gone again, and who the heck knows where the third one is, oh here's a kid, wait, its not mine, oh shit, Nicky's stuck up there in the 2 story climber, better go get him, but the daughter is missing again, and here comes Joey, but he doesn't want to go in the climber, now where is climber kid anyways, don't like the looks of that guy, and phew, there's Natalie playing 'run from mommy' up and around the tricycles, catch her and drag her towards safety and there's Nicky with his hands in the aquarium, race to save the fish and he throws a fit and where's Natalie now, oh god, that guy is a pedophile for SURE and where's Joey, Nicky stop drinking the aquarium water, Natalie get back here, ha ha look at that kid standing on the airhockey table, oh no, Joey, get off the air hockey table this instant, take off one boot before Natalie gets away, chasing her with one boot and where's Nicky and Joey and someone's screeching please don't be my kid, yup it's my kid, soothe child, try to locate others, glare at creepy guy to let him know I'm on to him...

This went on for well over an hour until I packed up the screaming and fit-throwing children and dragged them and my poor abandoned backpack to the minivan. As bad as it was, I think the kids loved it. But today I learned that I try too hard, and that when you can't locate your children, every person is a wierdo. I think I'm gonna be spazzed out with stress for a few days. Pardon my twitching.

I think I need a vacation. If there are any rich millionaire types who don't know what to do with their money and pity an overworked, overachiever mom, I want to go here with my husband for a week. Umm, without the kids, I think.

If no millionaires are currently available to fund this cause, that's ok too. A girl can dream, and sometimes, that's enough.