Knowing that everything doesn't really happen to you still fails to soften the blow when it feels like everything happens to you. Woke up yesterday at 8:10. Ran screaming into C's room and told him to get up quick and get dressed or he was going to miss the bus. Had him quivering under his covers in fear of crazy Mommy when Ken finally came upstairs to tell me school had been delayed two hours on account of freezing rain.
"I turned off the alarm so you could sleep in," he said.
Okay then, I suppose in retrospect that was nice.
I apologize to C who's still hiding under the blankets.
Even though we've now got an extra two hours to get ready the rush is still on to get to the bus stop by 10:30.
H goes to preschool at 11:30. It didn't seem worth it to drive home and unload everyone for 40 minutes. The gas light is on so we head to the full service Getty station for a fill up. As I'm pulling away from the pump, my three year old tells me, "he forgot to take it out," a phrase that on it's own could be seriously misconstrued. I haphazardly assure H that everything's fine and continue my exit. There follows a loud clanking noise confirming what H had been trying to tell me. He'd forgotten to take it out all right so I get out, replace the nozzle and put the gas cap back on myself, accepting apologies from the station attendant. I in turn apologize to my son for not listening to him when he was plainly trying to convey useful information.
We park at the beach as it's still not time for preschool. I read a book about some American mice detectives who fly to Scotland to solve a haunted house mystery. The only mystery I can discern is why don't the American mice wear pants.
I head over to preschool and gingerly walk H down the icy driveway only to be met by the teacher who informs me that on days when school is delayed, preschool is automatically cancelled. She apologizes for having not called me. I am gracious. My entire day thus far has been a wash except for having successfully gotten gas. I explain to H that even though we've been killing time for the past 45 minutes, there is, in fact, no school today.
We shuffle back to the car and head home.
While I'm unloading the twins, H slips in the driveway, falls in a puddle, and soaks himself.
"I wanted you to carry me," he wails.
He gets even more upset when I walk up the stairs ahead of him.
"I wanted to beat you, Mommy." He says.
I'm beaten, baby. I'm beaten.
song: Bad Day • artist: R.E.M.
Visiting the Fire Station
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