I’ve decided that ShaMoo needs some air time too, so from now on my partner in crime, sister in song, cohort in chaos will be Guest Posting every so often for your reading pleasure. Give her a warm welcome, folks!
So, have you ever had one of “those” days?? You know the type I mean; that horrible day when everything seems to go wrong and you want to crawl back into bed and cry in the fetal position?? The type of day that you remember forever and compare all future crazy days to? Now, I’m not talking “horrible” in terms of tragedy or the like, just when Murphy seems to be following you around and kicking you repeatedly in the pants… Well, here’s mine… and I dare you to beat it.
It was a Saturday last October and it started off with everyone in our house crankier than usual (which is no small feat, considering that my three kids were all five or under at this point). My lovely husband, let’s call him “Shmenkman”, had thrown his back out the previous Thursday working in the garage/rough-housing with the boys so he was hobbling around like an old man. My two year old (Frank #2) woke up in horrible spirits (read: whining, crying, tantrumming; just a drop of golden sunshine)… My oldest, (Frank #1) woke up grumpy too, the baby (Little Bit) was crying whenever you put her down and me, well, my grumpiness is genetic (I get it from my kids). So, on the plan for the day: had to clean house, get groceries, drop something off at my friend Michelle’s house, Frank #1 had a birthday party to go to in another town (oh yeah, had to wrap the gift), get dinner started (having company over for dinner that night)… etc. etc. Yes, your typical family Saturday.
Yeah, that’s right.
So, I manage to get the b-day gift ready and Frank #2 dressed as I figured I’d take him with me for groceries. He decided to play the “I’m coming, wait, no I don’t want to come, no wait, I’m coming” game. After fighting with him, for what seemed like hours, I’d had it so I decided to just go, and I get in the van and start ‘er up. I start backing out of the garage when a SHOE COMES FLYING AT THE WINDSHIELD. Um, ‘scuse me? I get out of the van, storm over to my old man husband and ask if that was absolutely ****ING necessary? “Yes”, he says “my back is out, remember??” We get into a nice “calm discussion” about how Frank #2 actually wants to come so I should have waited… yes, a “calm discussion” indeed. Oh crap, the garage door is open and there are neighbours outside… excellent. I’ll just call Child Services myself. No please, take ME away.
Anyhow, I take a spazzing Frank #2 and buckle him into the van and at this point my blood pressure is making that steady climb North… Fine. Get to Michelle’s, drop off the waterwings for her daughter… thinking that now the day will get better. OYE, did it get worse!! So, from Michelle’s house I headed to the local grocery store to quickly buy groceries (Saturday morning at the grocery store?? Nothing quick about that, folks!!). Frank #2 spazzed almost the entire time… I didn’t have time to get everything I needed as I needed to buzz home to get Frank #1 to the birthday party. Oh, and did I mention that I needed to pick his little friend up too?? Fine. So I run like a fool around the grocery store, get to the till, unload it all… and breathe… ahhhh, nearly done. I’m next in line, yay! The day will get better now… The cashier was about to ring it in when I check for my wallet. NOT THERE! I tell the cashier to stop as I seemed to have forgotten my wallet and, well, if looks could kill, I would have been vaporized by her deathly glare. Fine. So we shovel all of the crap back into the cart, pull it to the side, I grab Frank #2 (who is still spazzing, by the way) and run to the van to find my ****-ing wallet staring smugly at me from the seat. What to do? Leave it? No, I need this stuff for the DINNER guests coming! Crap… So we sprint back into the grocery store where of course there are now at least 6 people in line at each till… Crap again! Fine… wait, get ‘er done, go home.
I then proceed to run like a fool to get the ham in the crockpot for dinner (damn, bought pineapple CHUNKS instead of CRUSHED pineapple… no problem I have TONS of time to throw that stuff in the blender), feed a screaming Little Bit, finish getting Frank #1 ready, dish spazzy Frank #2 off to hobbling Shmenkman (who, up to this point, had just sat there slack-jawed not daring to say a word) and bolt out the door. Crap, gas light just came on. Okay, breathe. Pick up Frank #1’s friend, fill the gas tank up… get kids to party… breathe some more. Get home after the party… guests coming in half an hour. Hmmmm, why don’t I smell ham cooking? Weird, but I’ll just mentally file that one. Bolt around the house cleaning, vacuuming, cleaning bathroom (because, of course, Shmenkman is napping upstairs with Frank #2; you know, sore back and all. I’m not bitter). Fine. Let’s take a minute and check on that ham (T minus 10 minutes to guests’ arrival). Hmmmm, crock pot is cold. That’s odd… Lift the lid, sauce is congealed; odder still. OH MY GOD, crock pot is UNPLUGGED!!!! At this point I think I kind of blacked out a bit, but was awakened by the sound of my own hysterical laughter… Not that it seemed “ha ha” funny to me but just that it couldn’t have been more like a sitcom if I had planned it! Well, by the time my blood pressure settled at, oh, let’s say, 11pm, it was actually quite funny.
Shmenkman apologized for throwing the shoe too.