Silence

During the week, I'm one busy mom. I know many moms say that. I'd say that between all of us going to school or work, I see the kids for about three solid hours per day. I get to see See a little more since I pick her up from daycare after school/work, but mostly it's averages to about three measly hours per day.

So tonight, I decided it was "let's go out to eat because Mommy doesn't feel like cooking and we can sit and enjoy a nice family meal together," complete with a smiley face. Husband chose Golden Chick, and we loaded the van up with children and headed over. (Side note: I am not sure how Golden Chick gets their chicken cooked, but moist. Crunchy, not soggy. And their rolls... Oh. Em. Gee. Their rolls.)

We learned quickly that someone fed See some sort of stimulant because she was completely cray-cray on the drive over. She wasn't much better when we got to the restaurant, either. About thirty minutes of us saying, "Eat your dinner. Eat your dinner. Stop doing that and eat your dinner. RAWR.... EAT YOUR RAZZIN' FRAZZIN' DINNER! Stop kicking the table. Ouch, that was my leg! Quit drinking all your juice or you will not be able to eat dinner. No, you can't have more juice. QUIT BOTHERING HER AND EAT!!!!" and we decided to get the heck out of there. My eye is starting to twitch by this point, and I have no hair left above my right ear because I've pulled it all out from frustration.

We load up in the car, and I lean over and tell Husband, "We're driving across the street and getting some Starbucks coffee. I need a Pumpkin Spice Latte, stat, or I'm going to maim someone."

"You got it, babycakes."

Children, from the back seat, chime in with, "Mom we want a cake pop mom we want a juice box mom we want a cookie mom we want a rice krispy mom we...."

"MOM WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU CAN NOT TALK FOR TEN MINUTES. Ten. That's all I want. TEN. MINUTES. PLEASE."

"Okay!"

Silence. Is. Golden.

We get on the road to head over to 'bucks, and Husband and I are chatting about something. We wait at a stop light for a little while. After arriving at Starbucks, ordering drinks and buying more Pumpkin Spice Via (oh, yes. It exists. And it's freaking amazing. You're welcome!) and commanding children to "sit down, stop kicking that man, no you can't have chocolate milk, do you think I am insane, stop annoying her, SIT DOWN ON YOUR BUTT IN THAT CHAIR AND DO. NOT. MOVE." we finally leave the store.

Blah blah blah blah all the way home. ALL THE WAY home. I'm serious, non-stop talking. My ears are bleeding and I am crying. Somehow we got on the subject of Ess and her friend at Husband's work, named She (not her real name, promise!) Since they are six-and-seven-years-old, they fight about silly things and don't talk to one another for a few hours off and on. So I say, "Are we still talking?" Referring to Ess and She's relationship.

Silence.

So I stop and think... why is she not answering? "Oh, I didn't mean that to sound mean... I meant to ask if you and She were *really* talking still. Not that we were playing the Not Talking game again."

"Oh! Yes, we're still blah blah blah blah blahbbity blah....."

I should have just enjoyed the misunderstanding. Let this be a lesson to all the parents out there.