Get ready, all ten of my readers!  Oh, joy.. it is time to ONCE AGAIN FEEL SUPERIOR TO SARAH!  I have not only one, but two tales of woe today that will lend you the opportunity to feel morally, ethically, and mentally superior to Sarah.  Relish in the superiority; this kind of free-for-all doesn’t come every day.

We have The Boy this weekend.  These weekends I always dread, and then have a ball during.  I know, it’s stupid, but it’s nonetheless true.  He’s a fabulous kid, but it’s just such a weird situation, to only be a family for three days, every other week.  Regardless, one of Bryan’s coworkers bequeathed us with this really cool toy that is basically designed to make adults feel retarded. (And by adults, I mean me.) It asks you certain questions, and to answer them, you’re required to use hand/eye coordination through a series of twists, slams, pulls, and shakes.  This toy, we figured out, is PERFECT in the car; it asks the questions aloud, so we can all help him, and yet he stays awake and confined to the backseat.

Toy:  What do you call a large group of elephants?
The Boy: Here are the choices.  A herd..
Me: .. nope..
The Boy: A parade..
Me: .. nope..
The Boy: A gaggle..
Me: .. nope..
The Boy: .. and that’s all the choices.  So what’s the answer?
Me: (PROUDLY) A pachyderm.
Bryan: No, that’s an elephant.  A pachyderm is an elephant.
Me: No, it’s a group of elephants.
Bryan: Honey (and this is where he pats my thigh, to warn me that I should stop lest I look retarded in front of his child, like his child naively thinks I am a genius), it’s a herd.  A herd of elephants.  A herd of pachyderms, if you will.
The Boy: Nevermind, I got the answer.  And the next question is stupid; it asked me what color blood is.  Duh.
Me: Yeah, it’s blue.
Bryan: (sighing) No, honey.  Your blood is red.
Me: No, look! (I hold up my pale ass and translucent wrists, where several blue lines can be seen.) It’s only red when oxygen hits it.
Bryan: Your blood carries oxygen, Sarah.  That’s why you watch surgeries and the blood.. even in the body.. is red.  The walls of your veins are blue.
Me: Really?
Bryan: Really.
Me: I can’t know if I can handle any more learning today.

And here’s an opportunity to feel morally superior to Sarah, so knuckle up: we have hit the point of the weekend where every second of everyone’s attention MUST be given to The Boy.  Granted, things have eased up on that end and this point comes much later in the weekend NOW versus a few months ago, when our weekends were consumed with it, but this point still grates under my nerves to no end.  I’m a huge fan of one-on-one time with him, believe me, but I’m also a fan of teaching him to play on his own, if only for an hour a day.  And when Bryan comes to find me for a second – just a second — of adult alone time, so he can hug me or kiss my forehead, and The Boy comes in and says, “What were you two doing?  Because I need to talk to my dad.” and then doesn’t have a thing to say, I feel HUGELY threatened.  And I typed that word before I had time to ponder it, but it’s true: I feel threatened.  Like he has just puffed up his mane and tried to pee on Bryan.

Bryan is okay with giving him 110% of his attention on these weekends, but it very much feels unbalanced to me.  I love The Boy, and I know that not much of what I just said sounds like that, but I want him to be well-adjusted.  And being able to run the show 100% of the time is not giving him that, in my parental estimation.  It’s one of the two extremes he has in life: over here, he is doted on and spoiled and given everything he wants; at his other home, he is sat in a corner with a hand-held video game.  I just want more balance for him.  That’s all.

I hope you enjoyed your weekly Sarah Superiority gnoshing.  I hope it holds you over.