Wow, I nearly sent my son to school without any green on.
Tommy had ten minutes before he had to walk to the bus stop and I was wondering why in the world Meredith Viera and Al Roker were attempting to speak Gaelic on the television. Was it for fun? Was it to sound cool to their peers?
And then I realized that it was St. Patrick’s Day.
I’m not the brightest bulb in the bunch first thing in the morning. I mean, duh, they were in Ireland for goodness sakes! I just assumed they were craving Guinness or something.
Anyhow, I suddenly yelped, “Tommy! You’re not wearing green! You NEED some green!”
I suddenly pictured a bunch of evil children surrounding him with their fingers out, poised in a pinch position. Of course teachers wouldn’t allow pinching at school but I know children can be evil twats and would find some way to SNEAK the pinching in when an adult wasn’t looking.
And my poor little boy, he’s inherited my ability to bruise easy.
So I rushed upstairs to Tommy’s room and started frantically going through his closet for a green shirt.
Green, green, green. He HAS to have a green shirt.
Then I found one and pulled it from the hangar and held it over my head like a trophy.
I HAVE FOUND THEE, GREEN SHIRT!
Then I realized, oops, time was running out and Tommy had to get to the bus stop so I hurried back downstairs and tossed the shirt in Tommy’s direction.
“Change into this,” I instructed.
I thought Tommy would reach out and catch it. Maybe he’d even say THANK YOU for saving me from the pinching. But instead he let the shirt flutter to the ground by his feet.
“Mommy, did the Leprechauns come to our house?” Tommy asked hopefully.
Oh. Right. Leprechauns were apart of this whole St. Patrick’s thing. Which made me think of Lucky Charms and that made me wish that we had some. Mmmm, marshmallows. Then I got the jingle in my head (“Frosted lucky charms, marshmallowy delicious!”) and briefly lost my focus.
“Mommy!” Tommy’s voice rang out, breaking me from my thoughts. “Did Leprechauns come to our house?” he repeated in an exasperated voice.
“Yes,” I lied, wishing I had done something to SHOW that they had been here. On the forum that I write at people had said that they were tipping furniture over and leaving chocolates and then telling the children that the leprechauns had done it. Why oh why hadn’t I done something like that?
But then I had an idea.
“Tommy! Look! Look what those messy Leprechaun’s did!” I suddenly said and then gestured to the counter which was piled with mail and…well…pens…and…really, just a lot of junk. I call it my Counter of Junk. It’s usually only clean when we have company. I really try to be organized but it’s just not in the cards for me.
Tommy furrowed his brow as he came over beside me. “Mommy, that was messy before. That’s ALWAYS been messy.” He gave me a knowing look as though he comprehended that I was totally bullshitting him.
But I tried to pull my acting skills out and I went, “No, I think you’re mistaken. I cleaned last night and….and the Leprechauns came and messed it up again.” I threw my hands up in the air. “Those DARN Leprechauns!”
Tommy still didn’t look convinced. “I think you’re lying,” he told me simply and walked off.
I miss the days where he’d believe whatever I told him. Such as, if you don’t eat your carrots then the Carrot Monster is going to come and bite your feet at night. Or, if you scream at Mommy then you’ll never get a Happy Meal from McDonalds again because the McDonalds workers know not to pass out Happy Meals to kids who shout at their parents.
Tommy finally did switch into his green shirt.
“Did you pack something green into my lunch?” Tommy wondered before he left.
I thought for a few seconds. I had packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a string cheese, an apple and a mini back of those Goldfish snacks.
But then I remembered that we had green apples too! I had packed Tommy a red one. So I hurried to the fridge and pulled out a green apple.
“Here you go! Green!” I said cheerfully and dug out his lunchbox and switched the apples.
“Some Mommy’s are making kids ALL green lunches,” Tommy fumed.
“Well, those are known as Creative Mommy’s. Sorry kid, you didn’t get one of those,” I explained. I swear, I TRY to be crafty. I really do. But it turns out that I hate gluing things.
Tom just gave a sigh and walked out the door.
“Love you! Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! Hopefully those darn Leprechauns don’t come back and mess up the kitchen again!” I shouted.
“That was YOU!” Tommy shouted back without even bothering to turn around.
About an hour later I had to go grocery shopping. See, I wasn’t wearing any green and I didn’t think adults would mind.
But suppose you have one of those Irish types who take the holiday seriously? I’m not kidding when I say that I bruise easily. So what I did was find a green marker and draw a smiley face on my palm. That way if anyone questioned why I didn’t have green on I could flash my hand and be all, “I do! Look! A green smiley face!”
No one mentioned that I wasn’t wearing green until I went to checkout.
Of course I had a cashier who wagged a finger at me and said in a singsong voice: “SOMEONE isn’t wearing green!”
I looked up with a start. I had been busy unloading my groceries and hadn’t realized she was talking about me at first. Then I saw her wide eyes staring at me.
“Oh,” I laughed. “Actually I---”
“Should I pinch you?” she continued. She tapped her chin as though contemplating this. I honestly thought she was going to walk around her till and walk over and do it. I debated taking the frozen chicken and protecting myself with it.
“Lady, come close to me and I’ll conk you with this meat,” I imagined myself saying. I also pictured myself swinging the chicken around my head like it was a lasso or something.
I honestly have the strangest thoughts sometimes.
“I have green on!” I said in a rushed tone. I waved my palm in her direction so that she could see the green smiley face.
Which was mostly smudged from gripping onto the cart handle so all that remained was an eye and a nose. But still. It was something, right?
“That doesn’t really count but I’ll let it slide,” the cashier said and wagged her finger at me again.
Gee. Thanks. I really don’t think she could have pinched me anyhow. After all, I’m the customer and I’m always right. And, plus, I think her contract stated that she wasn’t allowed to injure customers either.
One would hope, at least.
I’m not making anything special for St. Patrick’s Day. I suppose I could make corned beef or something but I’m not a huge fan of that. Plus, I wouldn’t even know how to cook something it.
So I’m making Sloppy Joes.
I guess I could dye the meat green but it would freak my husband out. He’d insist that something was wrong with the meat and that he couldn’t be expected to eat it and blah blah blah.
So it’ll just be boring old Sloppy Joes tonight.
I may tip over a few chairs so when Tommy gets home from school I could say that the Leprechauns did that.
He probably won’t believe it but I could try at least.