someone shoot me

No seriously.

Am an idiot. A complete can’t-keep-my-big-mouth-shut idiot. I am like what one would call “aa bayl, mujhey maar” especially for all that I’ve signed up for this weekend. Starting in a few hours I will be a woman on wheels. Not the kind I went traisping around giving circus daredevils a run for their job, but the one that only yours truly as an idiot can sign up for thrusting myself into spiels of energiser bunny mode.

So what did I not shut my mouth about and sign up for? Here’s the list.

1. Offered to do 10 rudrakshamalas for the munchkin’s sunday class, so they’d all look cutesy signing ‘Subrahmanyam, subrahmanyam’ . Not the real kind, but fakesters. Got a bucket of beads last weekend, and managed to get 8 done, realized the buckets are assortments of colors and shapes, so now I need to color the beads enmass or go buy another fresh bucket of which I’d use 10% of the specific color of beads. Ran out of yarn, so that’s a stop on the way home.

2. The teachers decide blue pavadais/skirts for all, then switch to maroon. I am all for maroon, but catch being munchkin has no maroon silk skirt. It’s sad, really. The older one used to be flooded with pretty ones, and this girl’s the more fancy one and none of what she has fits her. Am still scrambling to put together an outfit by Sunday. Sister thinks am an idiot [ok, so what’s new] for succumbing to such pressures, and insists I get other moms to scramble instead. I don’t like to say no, or get into a confrontation[which is what it is teeterring on, after I sent a hesitant email to the teacher on my life’s schedule after major badgering from sister, to which I get a passive-aggressive “do whatever you want” reply], so I suffer in silence.

3. Daughter has an MC final run scheduled 15 miles away at the noble King’s place right after munchkin’s ballet lesson and I have 15 minutes to get there. Directly. Which means I schlep food along with a change of dress for munchkin, which also means a very cranky daughter can’t laze Saturday morning [the only luxury she has acc to her] and has to be up and running at 8.

4. Son’s signed up for a State Chess tournament and needs to be at the center at 8.30 am, which means a chaotic morning and the household should be burning engines by 7 am. Which in itself is a challenge, but it’s chess, he may just surprise me. In effect, there goes my morning time.

5. Signed up for an e-vendanta class [which itself is debatable as to what I am doing there in the first place] that takes off this evening say oh, a good 18 miles the other way. This is where my first pearl of nincompoopery appears. The host said she’s making some prasadam. I wrote an email offering to help [I truly was possessed], she says sure, 10-12 folks are landing. So now, am twiddling my thumbs on what I can make at all. I suck at snacks., and she’s covered rotis, sabji, rice and sooji halwa. I am thinking I will just make panakam. Yeah! As much as folks are gonna wrinkle their noses at it, it’s divinity personified! No?

6. Have a potluck we couldn’t squirm out of Saturday evening for which I’ve been chosen to make a 5 quart vessel of Aviyal. Apparently the last time I made it, it was finger-smacking and they want me to replicate it. That’s a scary thought, as my cooking is purely a little this and a little that, no standards maintained, so everytime a dish is made, its a surprise to me and luck of the draw for the guests.

7. Daughter has her dear friend’s bat mitzvah the very same evening and insists she has nothing in her closet she could wear to the event. So there’s a trip to the mall for the gift and outfit squeezed in somewhere that afternoon and not to mention shoes. O, how could we forget the shoes.

8. Just realized this morning that am growing a unibrow faster than the weeds around the mailbox. Suddenly our area is gone scarce of threaders. There’s one lonely woman who operates on Fridays alone. She thankfully offered to squeeze me in at 5.15 pm, which blows an easy 45 minutes, which gives me 30 minutes to fix dinner. Maybe I’d just shove the new Panda Express menu under husband’s nose and bid a sweet goodbye as I drive off into the sunset and vedantam.

9. Time’s changing on Sunday and there would be utter chaos if all us have to be dressed to the tee and land at the center by 9 am sharp. The girl will fuss over her langa voni and her hair, son will have issues with his long kurta sleeves, husband will drag his office wear out from the dearths of the closet, while munchkin will insist on a dupatta on her skirt. Oh, I forgot me. Magically all my blouses would’ve shrunk overnight even if I do try them on the day before. No, I do not balloon, the blouse shrinks. ..and am sticking to it.

10. The grand nincompoop act of all, I couldn’t shutup and signed up to make puris for the event. The smart women took trays of alu curry, channa and some daal, and the puri sign-up sheet stood all sad, alone and near-empty. The co-ordinator who’s a friend, grinned knowingly at me and we both threw our names in with reckless abandon and took double doses of what’s assigned. So yes, yours truly will be frying 300 puris waking up at 6 am [which is 5 am normally] in the morning. Oh well, someone’s going to have to do it, 500 folks aren’t just gonna eat vegetables alone.

11. Sunday afternoon will find me at work, kids working on their individual projects to be completed and a very unhappy husband going cuckoo at home.

Yes, am ready. Shoot me.