One of those days.

It’s just been one of those days.

I was racing around trying to get out the door on time for our Mommy & Me Gym class. I was barely going to make it on time and then as I am trying to get out the door with the diaper bag, my toddler, and my coffee, a random draw string on the diaper bag gets caught on the door. The alarm is beeping and my little one is already standing in the garage and not only am I caught, but the jerk of my bag getting caught spilled my (hot) coffee on my hand and the washer and the floor (because we have the world’s smallest laundry room, so it is pretty hard to navigate that space even when you aren’t carrying everything you own). So then I have to get the child back in, turn off the alarm, put everything down, go get some paper towels, and start over again.

And then – while still in my neighborhood – I get behind the slowest. pick-up. EVER. So at this point I am probably cursing a lot. OH – and I really had to pee. So I am stuck behind this pick-up for a while and FINALLY I get around him and I am sure I am going to be so late for the class. I get there and I’m only five minutes late. I must have fallen into a time space continuum or something because I was sure I was going to be like 15 minutes late (which makes a difference in a 45 minute class).

So this whole time I really need to pee but can’t just go do that because we have the class. So finally (after trying to encourage my skeptical toddler to participate in someway in this class I PAID for) class is over and I can go pee. Except that this is at the Y and we are in the same building that they have their preschool and a bunch of 4 year olds are in the bathroom, too. And they all want to touch my child. And I have to wait for the “big” stall because one of the other moms from our class is in there. So I have to stand there holding my 20lb bag and 25lb child. Finally we get in the stall and I have to somehow keep her from touching everything while I pee. I am pretty sure I cursed again. So after I pee I can’t even wash my hands because of all the four year olds, so we have to find a seat in the lobby and use the wet wipes in my bag. So now we’ve cleaned our hands, so I pick up the bag and the baby to go and when I walk out to the parking lot I nearly run into a car backing out because the sun is in my eyes. Finally in the car, my baby is asking for a snack which I cannot give her because I need to give it to her at the grocery store – which is our next stop.

I am armed with my list, snacks, books, and Elmo for the grocery store so I am confident all will go well. I get her out, put her in the sling, strap the diaper bag on and grab the cart cover and off we go (I have forgotten my reusable bags AGAIN – dammit!). I am accustomed to the looks of pity I get at this point as I must look like a pack mule. But I have a system and it works so I don’t care. The store trip is mostly uneventful except for all the crap in my way – what is with the pallets in the middle of all the aisles and walk ways? It is 10:30 in the morning – do they not expect people to be shopping? Beside the obstacle course all is well until we reach the soup aisle. These days soup is important to me until I get my (hopefully) minor health issues resolved. I have to be very particular about what I pick, though, because some things don’t sit well with me (sadly, tomato soup give my heartburn). Luckily they have a yummy black bean soup that I love – except they DON’T! This happens every bleeping time I go the the bleeping store! They stop selling something I love!! More cursing happened on the soup aisle I am sure… Whatever. I make other choices and move on as we need to get home to give my sweet girl lunch so she can have a nap (and I can have a break). Toward the end of our trip she is throwing Elmo and her water out of the cart, but I am on a mission so I let it go.

We make it home. I get the groceries in. I bring my child in. Her diaper has leaked all over her clothes (which actually is a rare event). I change her. I feed her a lunch I am embarrassed to admit to, and – finally – it is time for her nap. And just as I am laying my sweet girl down in her crib, I hear the buzz of a weed eater as the lawn guys have arrived to cut our lawn. Of course they have.

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