Oh Snap, Funky Friday

Have you ever seen something completely idiotic and wondered "What kind of person would do that?!"

Last Friday I learned that kind of person is me.

Mark was in (completely awesome) training in Arizona.

My morning started in a rush, Sarina had to get to school at 7:45 am to work on the yearbook.  I had to get the other kids fed, dressed and on the school bus.

And it was a rare day I had to spend all day in training 40 minutes away.

Oh, add to it, my computer died the night before (which I needed for training).

Needless to say, I left the house flustered, breakfast dishes still out, no food in my belly or packed (except my mason jar full of almonds), and my head buzzing with all that needed to get done.

During my lunch break I went to get fuel (for the vehicle first) thinking I might even squeeze in a quick shop for a little gift for our babysitter.

As I was fueling up I zipped about finding all the garbage scattered about the suburban (it's what I do every time I fill up to prevent driving around in a garbage dump).

It was in the middle of the numerous trips to the trash can that I missed Mark's first call from his training.

I was dying to hear how the training was going for him, and I knew it was a sliver of a window I had to talk to him.

I'm not sure if it was the lack of nourishment or being flustered that I missed his call, but I hopped back into the car, started it up and drove about 20 feet.

I don't know why, but I stopped and reflected that I had no memory of replacing the nozzle.

One peek out the side view mirror and it was confirmed.

I

am

that

dumbass

who leaves the nozzle in the car and drives off.

FUCK!

Sorry, but that calls for the F word.

Thank God it was the kind of pump with the shut-off valve.

A very nice man (wearing a firefighter union sweatshirt) gently removed the nozzle and set it neatly beside the now naked pump.

Look at that blue sky!  Oh yeah the naked pump too...

I went in and told the people at the gas station who just looked at me stoically.

The man who owns the station tried valiantly to re-connect but to no avail.

I'll admit that as he was trying to make it work I was chanting (in my head) over and over, "Please work, I'm a good person.  Please work, I'm a good person."

Perhaps not quite good enough.

There's a lesson in here, I just have to find it.

$200 to replace the quick connect.

Add that to the $100 spent on fuel and that's one heck of an expensive tank of gas.

I kept thinking Christmas is on the horizon...

I provided my insurance info and drove off.  As I drove down the road I considered taking a left hand turn into Western State Hospital to see if they happened to have an extra bed.

Ok, not really... but it did occur to me how ironic it was that I drove past a mental hospital sobbing to my sister about how stupid I was.

After talking to her, and calming down, I went back to the gas station and wrote a check for the damage.

The owner seemed to warm up to me after seeing my tear stained face.

I must have looked like a wreck.

I made it through my training, came home in time to get the kids off the bus, went out to chop kindling and learned the hard way why you don't wear cute little flats to chop kindling- when those suckers fly they can really hurt a toe.

I love the little pop of red.

Once the fire was roaring I looked up at the kitchen and realized what a mess I'd left it.

And glanced down and my favorite sweater was unraveling.

I could kind of relate to that sweater.

I felt like I was unraveling a little bit too.

Clearly, I still need my mom.  She swooped in and provided a Papa Murphy's pizza for the kids.  At least I didn't have to prepare a proper meal.

The lesson in this Funky Friday, I think, is that I need to stop and breathe every now and then.

I've been so frantically busy for so long, I need to learn how to meander again.

Just the other day I was thinking about how I never walk slowly taking in everything around me.

I can't remember the last time I strolled about not feeling like I had to hurry.

It's coming.

My big projects for work will end in December.

I have high hopes that in January I can take a teeny tiny bit of me time.  To remember how to slow down and enjoy the moment.

Perhaps my lesson,

is that I've been so amped up,

for so many years,

that it took a nozzle ripping,

kindling bopping,

sweater unraveling,

messy house kind of day

to remind me there are more important things in life than crossing off the million things on my to-do list.

One day at a time.

Breathe in and breathe out.

And enjoy the beauty in this world.

Oh What A Day

It started like all others.

Running just a little late.

Rushing to make lunches, shower, get everyone ready and out the door on time.

A whole lot of, "shoes on, in the car, buckle up!"s.

(Whole lot means more than the usual 10.)

All day school for the three biggest kids, pre-school for the littlest, dentist appointment for me, grocery store.

Typical, typical, typical.

Except, that when I pulled a container of chili out of the freezer for Mark's lunch I realized it wasn't quite all the way frozen.

Huh.

Later he called me to check on the freezer when I got home again to see if it was ok.

Fine.

I'm actually a little frightened of the freezer right now.

Mark just got a big buck a week ago and guess what's lurking inside my freezer.

Just guess.

That big buck's head in a garbage bag, with the rack sticking out above it.

Ew.

So, when I've been reaching in there I avert my eyes as best I can, hold my breath (I don't know why but I do), quickly reach in and grab out what I need then slam the door shut.

Like I'm afraid it's going to jump up and bite me or something.

Or else whisper, "hellllpppp meeeeeee" in a creepy soft voice.

Yeah I know, overly dramatic.

The point is, today I checked the freezer and found that the food was defrosting.

So, I had to reach back and play with the dial to see if it got bumped by big big rack as he struggled to break out of the freezer.  The dial is awfully close to those horns.

I think this calls for a discreet picture...

I was discreet.  I didn't include the part of the head I keep staring at through the garbage bag, as much as I keep trying to look away when I get in there.

Anyway, my chore was to clear out anything of value in the dying freezer to haul up to my in-law's freezer while they're out of town.

All while avoiding that sad nose inside the garbage bag.

Oops, I told you what I keep staring at.

I'll admit, I was patting myself on the back for handling that chore when I greeted the boys getting off the bus.

And guess what?!

Mom of the year forgot all about the Quality Work Assembly today for Carl.

He earned it for not one, but two assignments.

DAMN IT!

I was apologizing profusely as he kept listing all the parents who WERE there.

Salt in the wound little buddy.

As I'm still reeling from that terrible lapse, I look up at the clock.

4:02pm.

DAMN IT!

I was supposed to pick Sarina up from school at 4:00 after getting some extra math help from her teacher.

I arrive a mere 10 minutes late.

While I'm in the main hallway at school waiting for Sarina, I leave the rest of the brood out in the car.

And, as luck would have it, Miss Elsa rolled backward out the suburban door.

That's a good height for a little body to tumble out of.

Then back at home, feeling moderately confident I can pull the rest of the night off when I call the pediatrician's office to try and find a time to get Sarina in and her planter's wart looked at.

Oh happy day, they can get us in at 5:50pm.

So, race through dinner prep, order the little ones up to shower, ask grandma to keep the kids while I take Sarina in to get her foot worked on.

Fine.

Make it out the door with a good number of, "I said now!"s (in a mean threatening voice).

Pull up to grandma's.  Two little ones pop out of the car.

Carl refuses to get out.

I try to pull him out.

He won't go.

I threaten, beg, plead.

Nope.

He says, "It's because I love you too much mama."

Which makes the following even worse.

I'm stretched in the middle between a big girl scared the Dr. will have to dig out her wart and a little boy stuck like glue to me.

I pulled him out of the car, locked the doors and tried to drive off.

But I couldn't take it.

I caved and ordered him back in the car.

Which lead to WAILING (Sarina).

Then me screaming.

Truly.

At the top of my lungs.

It really is a great stress reliever.

We make it to the stop light when he says, fine take me to grandmas.

I u-turn and drop him off.

And as I pull away he's standing in the driveway, with his back to me, arms folded across his chest.

Poor buddy.

He went into her side yard and hid.

I think to compose himself so she didn't see his tears.

Triple DAMN IT.

The rest of the day was fine.

But to review the fails here: dead freezer, forgot quality work assembly, almost forgetting a child at school, smallest child tumbling out of parked car door, screaming at the kids multiple times in a single day (I really prefer to keep it to once a day), trying to drive off and leave my little boy crying in the driveway (because he just loves me too much).

I think that last one will haunt me for years.

DAMN IT!

It was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Even here in Olympia.