By ten am, I needed to get all kids dressed and fed, the 2-year-old to preschool, drop a family member at the airport, and take my one year old to swim class.
I had started this post last night, but by the time I could write (after wrangling everyone into bed), I was three (ok maybe three and a half) glasses of wine in, and I told myself I wasn’t gonna write drunk anymore. Or attempt to. Oh hell I better stick to writing before noon then…
The first bump yesterday morning occurred when my two-year old didn’t want to put on an outfit I had picked out. “It’s too small for me” she whined. What does she know? So I put it on her.
It was too small.
Then it was time to feed the lil ones; the big ones were fed, dressed and out the door- after begging for them to take out the trash, finish the dishes and clean their rooms. Beg… threaten, whatever. Same thing.
My two-year old is a picky eater. My one year old isn’t. Two year old says she wants eggs. Great, we make eggs (I say we cause if SHE helps me…by cracking the eggs so that shells go all over the place…then she is more likely to actually eat them). Nope she doesn’t want them. So the one year old eats them. What does the two-year old end up eating? Vitamins. Oh well, they are nutrients, right? I was done with the breakfast battle.
Almost time to jet out the door. Gotta pack the swim bag, diaper bag, school bag and lunch. Sheesh…shoot me now will ya, cause in between packing, changing an unexpected crap diaper, getting the cling on kids off my legs and having another fight with the two-year old about the shoes she doesn’t want to wear…that SHE picked out in the first place….I am trying to figure out how to transport myself to another time warp.
Kid melt down.
Mommy melt down (which consists of yelling at the kids).
Soooo….two year old is finally dropped off and I am off to the airport. Things look great…until we get to a terrible bumper to bumper situation. Why? Oh, because there is a horrible accident up ahead (no injuries thank God). So we crawl. And crawl. The time is ticking away…and the one time American Airlines is on time..is today of course…when I am praying for them to be delayed.
Wait…what is that sound? Why the sound of my gas light coming on. But surely I should be fine as I still have 50 miles worth of gas with only 4 miles to the airport and 20 miles home. No problem.
8 miles left.
6 miles left.
Ok…cars lie right? I mean it says 6 miles left but there is a little more than that….right?
The accident is finally cleared and I zoom into the airport, throw my family out (with a big sad kiss and hug) and raced back out of the airport.
Why are there no gas stations next to the airport??
I literally coast into a gas station….literally…the damn car was shaking…as the one year old breaks into hysterics. Screaming hysterics.
Stick the gas nozzle into the tank….crawl in the back and try to soothe, feed, change, or beat the one year old so that she will stop screaming (not crying…screaming). No luck.
But at least I have gas. Envision me walking the highway with a screaming one year old looking for a gas station. Woulda been time to lock me into a mental hospital…
May still need to.
I decide to shut off my ears and drive. I think I can still make my one year old’s swim class. Pretty sure I can…
20 minutes of screaming later, the one year falls silently to sleep and I pull into the parking lot of the swim class…to see the other parents in the pool already. I sit in my car and contemplate. “Do I really want to wake her up? Fight to get swim pants on, and miss half the class in the process”? Uh no. No I do not. What I want to do is drive into the neighboring 7-Eleven parking lot and grab a cheap bottle of Merlot and down it….
Instead I drive home, put her to bed and start the rest of my day.
Which ends with a somewhat cheap bottle of Cab.