I'm losin' it. No really. This time, I'm really losing it. I've pretty much given in to the fact that I will be suffering from permanent PMS until Wally graduates. Bouts of crying. Flying off the handle for no good reason. Happiness. Pride and then absolute sadness. Coupled with the "normal" madness of the Cleaver household. Where the hell's my damned pearls......Wine, anyone?
So.......so far on the to-do list, we have to work the enchilada basketball fundraising supper (say that 3 times fast after a couple of glasses o' wine) at 5, before the last home football game on Friday nite. Dad and Bonus Mom are coming to town to see the game. Need to remind Wally to wash his sheets for his grandparents. Scratch that. Need to wash the sheets myself. Otherwise we run the risk of said sheets still being in the washing machine as the Grandparents are ready to go to bed. Also have to call around and beg parents to work the supper to help with fundraising for their children. That should be easy. Yeah right. It's the same parents every time that help out. Problem is, this last home game is senior night. Yes, more tears for June. This is where you walk with your son on the football field while they announce you, your son and what he plans to - boooooo-hoooooo - sorry, sniffle, sniffle.......what his future plans are. The parents that typically help out with the fundraisers, their sons are also seniors, so they need to leave early to get lined up for senior night. That means there won't be anyone at the enchilada supper to pass out plates. It's ok. I figure I can re-route the pickup line to the football field and pass out styrofoam containers of enchiladas as I'm walking out with Wally. You know, kill two birds with one stone!
Yesterday afternoon as I was calling and begging people to help, my neighbors daughters best friends mother called me. (I know there's supposed to be some apostrophes before or after some of those "s", but I dont' know where. So, I just left them off. ON PURPOSE. I don't need your help telling me where they go, because I'll just forget again. Sorry. It's the PMS again) The best friends are having their birthday party together and requested that I make their cake. She threw all kinds of compliments at me and asked me if I would make it. Of course I will. When is the party? Saturday? As in this Saturday? You can do this June! You don't want to disappoint those girls. And after all those compliments on how beautiful your cakes are....plus there's the whole phallic guitar incident (yeah Jane, I saw your comment) that you have to overcome. Ok, I'll do it. What kind would they like? Oh it's a Halloween party, so anything that fits that theme will be fine. Easy enough! Chocolate cake. Couple of tombstones, plastic skeleton coming out of grave of crushed oreos and I'm home free!
Making supper last night while simultaneously calling the rest of the deadbeat parents on my list and I get another call. From the best friends mother. Seems the girls would like a Frankenstein cake. Shit. I know what's going to happen now. I'll scour the internet for Frankenstein cake photos. It'll have to be something good. Not just any round Frankenstein cake face. No, I'll find something that doesn't look too difficult and end up royally screwing it up. This should be fun!
Oh, and before we walk out on the field tomorrow night, we have to speak to the camera. They film the boys during the football season and then give them a DVD at the end. They personalize the DVD's for each boy with their parents saying something to them at the beginning. Where the hell's my tissues? I'll come up with something very heartwarming, but Wally won't be able to understand a word I'm saying I'll be sniffling the whole time and Ward will step in and try and help. But with my permanent PMS trip that I'm on, that will only piss me off and I'll fly off the handle. Surely it will truly capture Wally's parents in their most shining moment! Poor Wally.
Somebody hand me my wine. And my pearls, too, just in case..........