I was given a group of 3 little girls, one of which was my own daughter, and I brought Kiddo#2 along, too. Everything was fun and frolicky (?) and the kids all had fun. And I, a teacher, a professional kid-minder, was the only volunteer who (temporarily) lost a child. Sigh.
So, as I said, it was a long day.
I got home, tired and having half an asthma attack from the hay barn we all played in (I have a randomly severe allergy to dust and, as luck would have it, the kids all played in the super dusty hay barn. It was fun and frolicky (? I don’t know. It’s colicky from colic, so shouldn’t it be frolicky from frolic?) so I had to be in the middle of it all taking pictures. But it made me tired from the breathing difficulties.
When I went to take Kiddo #1 home (I let her ride the bus back from the orchard to school with her friends-- I remember that being the best part of a field trip) she cried because she couldn't ride the bus home, too, which made it a longer day.
And Kiddo #2 had gone the entire day without more than a 45 minute nap twice (he's a power sleeper normally). And, frankly, I'd gone the entire day without a nap (I'm also a power sleeper normally). So, yes, it was a long day.
I got home with Kiddo #1 still kinda weepy from not taking the bus, but excited at the same time because she found, and brought home in her hand on the bus, 6 lady bugs which were transferred to one of her lunch box containers and which were now buzzing around my car because "I have to open it Momma-- there's one that isn't moving and I need to see if it's dead."
It wasn't dead, in case you care. None of the other five were, either, and they are now finding wonderful places to hibernate in my pit of a car. Lucky duckies.
So it was a long day. And I didn't have any sort of dinner plans or ideas or, as it turns out, food. But I couldn't quite get to any of that because Kiddo #2 was crying-- when he teethes he gets ferocious sores on his bum (Kiddo #1 did, too.) and I'd thought we could put him and Kiddo #1 in a bath with Epsom salts to fix his bum and to just get the hay and debris off both of them before bedtime.
I looked in my bathroom and remembered that we were out of Epsom salts. I nixed the bath for now and decided I'd send Hubby out for salts after dinner. Dinner. Yes. Frickin' dinner.
Pouring Cheerios into four bowls, I declared dinner prepared and went to snuggle the kiddos. Hubby came home. We ate. It was a long, tiring day for everyone.
And then, Hubby realized he needed contact lens solution so he could play his first Volleyball game later that night. And then, Hubby realized we're out of dog food (which is probably why the dog was holding her dish and pointing to the cavern of emptiness all this time, but I was too tired to figure it out).
So he said, "Uh, Wifey, can you go get me some contact lens solution? Oh, and we're out of dog food."
And I said, "Seriously? I've had the longest day of my life. Can you please go get it? Oh and we need Epsom salts so the kids can have a bath."
And he said, "Well, sure. What kind of dog food do we get?" I looked at him and realized that I had no idea. I just get the bag with the dog on it and the aquamarine colour. I couldn't even tell him the first letter of the name. Frick. Well played, husband, well played.
I rolled my corpse into the standing position and smiled and said, "Ok. I'll get the stuff. You stay with the kids." The dialogue rolling through my head was not smiley or nice, but I was tired and when I'm tired I feel like the whole world needs to kiss my booty a little bit, and perhaps could light on fire and be hit by a big bus.
I've learned it's best to just think those things, though.
I said, "Well, can you unload and load the disher and then check on the pump for the pond? It's not working but it's plugged in. I think it's a shorted wire thing." Bwah haa haa. He couldn't say no because I was going out to get his stuff. Winner declared!
So, I went to the bulk food store and got some Epsom salts. I also walked every aisle and got some candy for a Thanksgiving craft I'm making this weekend. Then I meandered to the pet store and found the dog food bag. And, as I was giving them my phone number for their frequent buyer program, it occurred to me that I could've sent Hubby in here with my cell number and they could've looked up what we buy. Sigh.
Then I sauntered to Walmart and walked semi-quickly through that store to find the contact lens solution. I say semi-quickly because if you walk at a slow pace, you will be there for several hours. And there were roughly 10 thousand families there trying to buy Kleenex (or something for their crying, screaming children) and I didn't want to spend the night listening to that.
After about an hour, I drove home and brought in the things we needed. I came around the corner and began dumping Epsom salts into my giant bowl (I add essential oils to them so they smell wonderful). Husband came around the corner holding Kiddo #2 and looking frazzled.
"You ok?"
His eye bugged out of his head, which I took for a negative response.
"What happened?"
"Well, you may have noticed the dishes have been unloaded and loaded."
"Yes." What did he want? An award? (ok, I was still a little bitter apparently)
"Well, after I did that, the baby was sleeping, so I decided to go outside and check on the pump. I fiddled around with the plug and, yep, there's something wrong with the wiring like you thought."
"Ok. What do you think I should do? Should we get a whole new pump or try to fix it?" I was busily adding lavender and lemongrass drops to the salts and stirring them together.
"Oh wait. I wasn't finished." I looked up; his eyes got big again. "I was out there for all of 5 minutes, and when I came in, the baby was crying."
"Ok."
"Well, he was doing that "I've been left alone and my feelings are hurt" cry that he does, so I went in and changed his diaper and his butt is raw."
"Yep, that's why I'm sitting here mixing the Epsom salts."
"Well, then he started really screaming when I tried to put more cream on his butt."
"Yeah. He gets all wound up sometimes."
"Well, I finally got the new diaper on and came to the kitchen to get him some milk."
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I'm pouring the milk and I hear "Daaaaadddy? Daaaaaad?" over and over again. So I set the baby on the floor and go to find Kiddo #1."
"Ok."
"You will never guess what I found."
"Um. Did she have a giant spider in her hand that she found somewhere and wanted you to get her a container to put it in?"
"Nope."
"Am I on the right track?"
"Nope."
"Ok. Was her video done and she wanted a different one?"
"Nope."
"Was she looking for Pinkie Poodle?"
"Nope. She'd shit her pants."
"Whaa-haaat?" I started to giggle. Husband cracked a smile and said, "Yep, not only had she shit her pants, but when I came around the corner, she'd filled the bowl, too. And she was calling me for help because she knew she couldn't move because of the mess in her tights and panties."
I was on the floor doubled over in laughter. I mean, crying, can't breathe laughter. The vision of my husband, trying to fix the pond pump only to come in and have everything unravel in a matter of 5 minutes, for some reason, was KILLING me. I was even doing that Old Man wheezy laugh-turns-to-cough laugh. Hysterical.
“Oh no. She must be sick from the long, tiring day.” (she never, ever has accidents, least of all this kind, unless she’s got a flu bug lurking around.)
"Oh wait. I wasn't finished." I looked up; his eyes got big again. "I was out there for all of 5 minutes, and when I came in, the baby was crying."
"Ok."
"Well, he was doing that "I've been left alone and my feelings are hurt" cry that he does, so I went in and changed his diaper and his butt is raw."
"Yep, that's why I'm sitting here mixing the Epsom salts."
"Well, then he started really screaming when I tried to put more cream on his butt."
"Yeah. He gets all wound up sometimes."
"Well, I finally got the new diaper on and came to the kitchen to get him some milk."
"Uh-huh."
"Well, I'm pouring the milk and I hear "Daaaaadddy? Daaaaaad?" over and over again. So I set the baby on the floor and go to find Kiddo #1."
"Ok."
"You will never guess what I found."
"Um. Did she have a giant spider in her hand that she found somewhere and wanted you to get her a container to put it in?"
"Nope."
"Am I on the right track?"
"Nope."
"Ok. Was her video done and she wanted a different one?"
"Nope."
"Was she looking for Pinkie Poodle?"
"Nope. She'd shit her pants."
"Whaa-haaat?" I started to giggle. Husband cracked a smile and said, "Yep, not only had she shit her pants, but when I came around the corner, she'd filled the bowl, too. And she was calling me for help because she knew she couldn't move because of the mess in her tights and panties."
I was on the floor doubled over in laughter. I mean, crying, can't breathe laughter. The vision of my husband, trying to fix the pond pump only to come in and have everything unravel in a matter of 5 minutes, for some reason, was KILLING me. I was even doing that Old Man wheezy laugh-turns-to-cough laugh. Hysterical.
“Oh no. She must be sick from the long, tiring day.” (she never, ever has accidents, least of all this kind, unless she’s got a flu bug lurking around.)
And, on a side note, it’s nice to read how loving I sound when I read those words, because when I said them, I was in the middle of laughing my butt off so they didn’t sound very sincere at the time, despite the intention.
Husband nods and proceeds with his story.
"And, as I'm trying to figure out what to do next, the baby starts screaming in the kitchen. So I said, "Kiddo #1, try and get yourself cleaned up while I get Brother some milk and I'll be right back." I got the baby some milk and put him in his high chair and returned to find Kiddo #1 standing over the toilet, not quite clean because she couldn't really reach parts of the problem, but now she's out of toilet paper and every last square of it is also in the toilet bowl." Now I'm laughing like a fire engine.
"When, my darling, was the last time YOU had to reach into a toilet bowl full to the brim?" Oh that's it. I can't handle it. Now I'm howling. I'm leaning on the kitchen counter for support. The tears are dripping down my face and ... legs (That's new. How novel. Another bonus from Motherhood methinks).
Instant Karma is all I can think about. That's what you get for not knowing what type of dog food we buy, Husband! Hardy har har!
But, 24 hours later (with several of those 24 hours spent sleeping), and I think it was something else. I was so pissy about having to go out to get dog food, contact lens solution and Epsom salts, but I think instead of instant karmic retribution unfolding on my Husband (which isn’t the way karma works anyway), I think it really was the universe conspiring to make sure I got the heck out of the house and away from this mess before it happened. The universe could sense that if I'd been there for all this, I would have first, looked for hidden cameras and second, packed a carry-on suitcase for Mexico that very minute.
I think it happened for Husband because his telling of the story would make both of us laugh at the insanity of the situation; after the long tiring week we had, laughter was exactly what the Doctor ordered. Once we got everyone bathed (in wonderful smelling Epsom salts) and into bed, Husband and I looked at each other and started laughing again. Husband got into his Volleyball gear and went out to relieve some frustrations and I snuggled into bed to play Plants Vs. Zombies on my iPod. I giggled, replaying the story in my head, while the game loaded and promptly fell asleep.
"And, as I'm trying to figure out what to do next, the baby starts screaming in the kitchen. So I said, "Kiddo #1, try and get yourself cleaned up while I get Brother some milk and I'll be right back." I got the baby some milk and put him in his high chair and returned to find Kiddo #1 standing over the toilet, not quite clean because she couldn't really reach parts of the problem, but now she's out of toilet paper and every last square of it is also in the toilet bowl." Now I'm laughing like a fire engine.
"When, my darling, was the last time YOU had to reach into a toilet bowl full to the brim?" Oh that's it. I can't handle it. Now I'm howling. I'm leaning on the kitchen counter for support. The tears are dripping down my face and ... legs (That's new. How novel. Another bonus from Motherhood methinks).
Instant Karma is all I can think about. That's what you get for not knowing what type of dog food we buy, Husband! Hardy har har!
But, 24 hours later (with several of those 24 hours spent sleeping), and I think it was something else. I was so pissy about having to go out to get dog food, contact lens solution and Epsom salts, but I think instead of instant karmic retribution unfolding on my Husband (which isn’t the way karma works anyway), I think it really was the universe conspiring to make sure I got the heck out of the house and away from this mess before it happened. The universe could sense that if I'd been there for all this, I would have first, looked for hidden cameras and second, packed a carry-on suitcase for Mexico that very minute.
I think it happened for Husband because his telling of the story would make both of us laugh at the insanity of the situation; after the long tiring week we had, laughter was exactly what the Doctor ordered. Once we got everyone bathed (in wonderful smelling Epsom salts) and into bed, Husband and I looked at each other and started laughing again. Husband got into his Volleyball gear and went out to relieve some frustrations and I snuggled into bed to play Plants Vs. Zombies on my iPod. I giggled, replaying the story in my head, while the game loaded and promptly fell asleep.
Like I said, it was a long, tiring day.
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