After I spent this weekend in Chicago alone with my Sweetie, my sister called to ask how the "reentry" was coming along. That was yesterday. Yesterday I was just fine. We were settling in, hanging out, yada yada yada.
Then this morning it hit. Reentry my arse. This was just plain crazy.
I woke up at the usual 5:20 to get ready for the day before the kids woke up. But, of course, from 5:15-7:00 B.daddy and I had to constantly corral the kids back to their rooms "until we come get you!" So as we are sitting on the couch praying for patience and kindness and things of that nature, we can hear various thuds and screams from the back of the house.
Right after B.daddy left for work-at 7:15-I set to cleaning the kids' rooms. They each had a bowl of dry cheerios at 5:30, so I postponed breakfast in lue of cleaning the wreckage of serious play times. I was tempted to just go in with two big, black trash bags and take care of it once and for all! But I didn't. I sorted and organized and yes, threw some things away. But it was crazy and the kids were not agreeing with Mommy being busy doing something other than giving them her undivided attention.
Also, since The Rascal's diaper leaked last night I had to wash her bedding. I took it down to the washer in the basement and got it started. Then I returned to the dishes from last night's dinner. Five minutes later the electricity in the back half of the house shuts off. So I run back down to the basement to flip the breaker. I come back up and make sure all the AC's are turned off, and return to the kitchen sink. Two minutes later, the back of the house shuts off again. I run down again, and flip the flippin' breaker. I return to the kitchen sink after turning off EVERYthing in the whole house. Five minutes later I test the fan and realize the breaker has flipped again! What?! So one last time I run down and flip the breaker. I stayed down there for five minutes just to save myself the leg work of coming back down, but it seemed to finally fix itself. So I returned to the sink one last time to half-way finish the dishes from last night's dinner.
By 8:40 I was cracking open a REAL Coke and making Mac N' Cheese for "brunch."
I had a tetanus shot scheduled for 10, so at 9:40 I started getting us down to the van. Low and behold, a Comcast truck is blocking us in our driveway. I walk all four of us back to the front door and ring doorbells. No response. I march all four of us up to the third floor apartment and bang on the door-politely, of course. It's unlocked, so I know someone is in there working. I open it up and holler "Hello?" up the stairs. No response. Holler again. No response. He must have gone down to the basement. So we walk down and out and down to the basement door, but it's not open. Finally I strap all the kids in their car seats where they would be safe. (No one can steal them if they can't even get out of the driveway!) I run back upstairs to get into the basement, but he's not there. And I've locked the basement door behind me. So, I run around the house, back inside, and up to the third floor apartment. I repeat the banging and hollering as before, only louder. But still very polite. No response. Screw it. I go up to the inner door in the third floor apartment. Now I can see into their living room. (Mind you, I hardly know the person living there right now. I was not comfortable; not to mention frustrated beyond reason.) I "tap" on the glass door, and someone I've never seen--& not in a Comcast uniform--comes to the door and says, "Oh, I guess that's why I was hearing stuff." Yeah? You think? Long story short, the Comcast guy came out and moved his truck.
We get to my appointment just barely on time, and I get my shot like a big girl. I took the kids, because I thought it only fair that they see me get one, since they get a thousand. And because I don't want to ask our one babysitter to babysit for a shot, of all things. I'd much rather it be for a date or a massage!
Since I was such a big girl I wanted to take us to Sonic to get $1 Jr. Candy Sundaes. The kids would rather go to the park, which I know I should oblige to, but I'M the one who got a shot today, and I want ice cream! (Yes, needles make me act like a total baby.)
So we drive thirty minutes up to Sonic. I pull up to one stall, and the card reader says "no connection" or something to that effect. I switched stalls and it said the same thing. I get out of the van and they all say it. One of the cooks comes out of the bathroom, and I ask him if any of the stalls are working. He doesn't speak a LICK of English, so he answers my question with hand gestures explaining how one picks their items from the menu, pushes the red button, and speaks into the intercom. So, I hop back in the van, and we pull around to the drive-through. Their intercom was also broken so I pulled forward. The car in front of me received a bag of Sonic goodness, but by the time we reached the window, the very kind manager apologized that they were closing down until their computers got fixed. No problem, I say.
My arm hurts, and I want to whimper. But, this is why the kids are with me. I can't be a total baby in front of them. So we just pull over to Wendy's and get some chocolate Frosty's w/ M&M's mixed in. Finally, we sat down to a delightful ten minutes of frozen bliss. Those sweet, little faces were covered with chocolate stickiness! Well, The Rascal was covered from head to toe, but Huggie's wipes work wonders.
Now, is it far too obvious that this is one of those days you pray for patience and then you get to step up to the plate and practice it in all sorts of rediculously trivial situations?
