This past week was busy, for a change. Is there a family in America that isn’t busy? If so, I would love to meet you. And then learn your secrets, Kemo Sabe.
As a result of the busy-ness, Goo was a hot mess in the attitude department, I felt like I lost all control of our cleaning project, and once again my children were starting to remind me of gremlins: cute and snuggley on the outside, but vicious little monsters on the inside.
Saturday morning we had a meeting at church at 8:30. Did you catch that? 8:30 on Saturday morning. Saturday is the only day of the week I don’t have to have at least one of the children cleaned, fed, dressed, packed up, and out the door by 8:00 AM. So this Saturday I was up with all the girls by 6:30 AM to get them showered, dressed, and out the door for this meeting. I let the Nerd sleep in later because he’s been up until 3 AM working most nights of the week. I know, I’m so selfless. I’m really just doing that so if we have another baby, I have a lot of, “Remember when I let you sleep in…” to throw at him after I’m up all night puking, then nursing and changing diapers.
The awesome thing was that although it was chaos to get over to the church with the crazies, breakfast was provided. I love a morning without cooking or dirty dishes. And our church is filled with awesome people, so despite the scramble to get everyone ready on time, it really was nice.
But promptly after leaving this meeting, it was time to feed the little ones, change Smush’s diaper, get Smush and Goo down for a nap, wrap a present, and take Punkin to a birthday party. All of which I did with grace and pizzazz. And some help from the Nerd.
Of course, upon arriving at said party, I realized I had forgotten the gift. This is the part where you nominate me for Mom of the Year again.
I walked in apologizing profusely to the Mom, and asked if I could duck out for a few to go home and grab it. “Sure,” she said, “Most parents are dropping the kids off anyway. Take your time.” I think, “Sounds good. Let me go call the Nerd and tell him I’m coming home for a while.”
And in that moment, I had a revelation. A revelation that would change the course of my life. Or at least my afternoon.
This was, without question, the perfect opportunity to get some ME time. No kids. No husband. No obligations. No rush to anywhere. Just me, a beautiful fall day, a swagger wagon, and my VISA card. Oh, heck yes. Besides, the Nerd was napping after his almost all-nighter. It would just be mean to wake him up.
First stop: Starbucks. Like you even needed to ask. There was a grande nonfat no whip salted caramel mocha with my name on it.
Second stop: the local kids’-stuff-only consignment shop. Smush is in desperate need of clothes, and I’m all bout shopping for the kids, but without the kids. It was bliss, I tell you. Bliss. Coffee in hand, and no one crying, whining, clinging, pleading, screaming, fighting, or running away. At least not that I had to pay attention to. It was like I won the lottery, only without all the money. It was perfection.
I put on my big, sexy sunglasses, rolled down the car window, and blasted the stereo. Oh yes I did. I absolutely love hip hop. Maybe that makes me lame since I’m a pasty white chick who digs science, but whatever, I like it. And there I was, cruising into the parking lot, rocking some skinny jeans, having the best hair day ever, bass pumping, mocha in hand. I really should have had a warning sign for oncoming vehicles, approaching that much hotness.
In the parking lot, I stopped to let a guy cut in front of me. He waved to say thank you. He was undoubtedly thinking, “Hey there, deceptively young-looking, super stylish lady blasting some sweet tunes. That’s almost too much swagger to handle. Thanks for making my day better just by being alive.”
How I saw myself. Image via Glyn Ednie.
At least in my head he was.
In reality, he was probably thinking, “Yeah, lady, I’m late for work, so if you could just wait a few more minutes, soccer mom who is trying way too hard to be cool, I’d appreciate it.”
How he saw me. Image via George Winston.
Needless to say, I will absolutely be taking Punkin to every single birthday party she is ever invited to. By myself. And not telling the Nerd that I can drop her off and go back later to pick her up.
Don’t judge me.