It started out OK, as far as early mornings go. The real trouble began while walking out the door to take the kids to school. I have a checklist that I repeat aloud every time I leave the house. It's not a long one- just three simple words.
Wallet. Phone. Keys.
I certainly don't always leave the house completely prepared for whatever will come my way. Oft forgotten are grocery lists, library books that need returned, the plastic grocery bags that have been accumulating for three years that I was certain I would remember to bring along this time, and pretty much anything that's not on my three word checklist. But hey, at least I know with those three things I'll be mostly good to go.
Yesterday morning, I was confident that I was indeed good to go. With keys in hand, I locked the door leading into the garage and closed it behind me. All the kiddos were ready to go in the van, and we were right on schedule. It wasn't until I attempted to put my key in the ignition that I realized the problem.
My brother-in-law left his keys at my house because their vehicle is in my driveway while they're on vacation. I grabbed THE WRONG SET. Not only could I not start the van, but I also could not get back into my house to get the correct keys. In my defense, both sets are approximately the same size and contain a prominent black Honda key. In retrospect, sitting them where my own keys normally go was probably not a great idea.I considered just walking the kids to school, but we live about two miles away. OK, I'll admit it. That wasn't my real hesitation. I was still in my pajamas and was not interested in showing them off to the whole neighborhood. At least I had my phone, thanks to my trusty checklist.
I called my hubby and let him know the situation. My description went a little something like, "I'm hanging out in the garage with the children, trying unsuccessfully to pull a MacGyver. Please send a rescue party."
Those of you with more common sense than myself have probably already figured out a solution to my quandary. Isaiah did, while I focused all my attention on door locks, a strand of wire, and an empty Subway gift card.
Duh. I had my brother-in-law's keys and SUV. I am the dumbest smart person I know. We could have driven ourselves to the school immediately and saved myself the embarrassment of having to walk into the school office in my pajamas to fill out the tardy slips. (And then having to walk my daughter to her classroom, all the way at the other side.)
I'll tell you one thing. It was a good opportunity to prove what I'm always telling my self-centered preteen. Embarrassment is a choice. He nearly broke down in tears when I insisted that I had to walk him into the front office, but I held my head high. I'd like to think I rocked those brown plaid hand-me-down men's pajama pants and lingering bedhead.
Once the kids were in their proper places, I had to make the hour roundtrip drive to Isaiah's work to get his keys. Note to self: hide a spare key in the garage. Ordinarily, I would have enjoyed the opportunity to see him at work, but Wednesdays are library days. Preschool story time (my sweet girl's favorite activity of the week) started at 10:15, and the clock was ticking. I rushed home, grabbed some more appropriate clothing for each of us, threw my clearly-needing-a-shower hair back, and raced off to story time. We managed to catch "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" and participate in walking our caterpillar fingers up our tree branch arms before they wrapped it up for the day. Mission: not quite accomplished.
Normally we walk leisurely around the library after story time, choosing some new books and movies for the week. (Well, leisurely for the children anyway. I have to make sure my three-year-old isn't yelling and/or careening wildly through the aisles.) Today we had to keep ourselves in fast forward, though. The pest control guy would be at our house in less than half an hour, so we grabbed just a few new things and rushed out the door (after a brief skirmish about who would get to remove the DVDs from their security case).
Why was the pest control guy coming, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.
A week ago, we heard a loud banging sound at the back of the house as we were trying to fall asleep. Isaiah grabbed the machete and headed for the back patio while I stealthily crept across the floor to peek out the curtains on our glass door. Not seeing anything, I opted against loading the shotgun, but Isaiah still inspected everywhere out back just to be safe. Meanwhile, I could still hear the banging inside.
I couldn't get my usual Wednesday grocery shopping done because of all the atypical events of the day, but at least I was able to catch up on a couple things at home that I'd been needing to do. Still, the afternoon passed by in a blur, a large chunk of it being taken up with a back and forth email conversation with my daughter's teacher. Apparently she was accused of a fairly serious offense (in my book anyway) by another classmate, which I politely disputed.
How do I know that this boy was in the wrong? Am I just another naive parent who refuses to believe their child would misbehave?
Um, no. The "offense" described was bringing in a picture of a nude woman that her sister had drawn. (The teacher didn't see it, but she took the word of the little boy because my non-confrontational girl didn't dispute it and actually apologized for it.) I guess that kid didn't realize that this alleged sister is only five years old and draws stick people. Either that, or he is one easily offended kid. Cut her some slack- it's hard to draw clothes on those skinny stick bodies! At any rate, she could no more draw a "nude woman" than I could go three hours without eating some chocolate.
After getting all that straightened out, it was time to get everyone ready for church. It was an easy, cheesy, blue box dinner for us last night, but we still barely made it on time. I managed to lose my nine-year-old on the way inside, but that crisis was averted before too long. He was just taking a ridiculously long time retying his shoes and searching for his AWANA shirt that he had assumed was in the van, but was in fact hanging in his closet at home.
Church was mostly great. Free childcare, adult conversation, and currently a study on Biblical parenting. Aside from kicking myself over things I know I should be doing with my kids, I was really enjoying the study.
Before we got to the group discussion part anyway. In a room full of parents, everyone is going to have some parenting problem stories, and the stories were flowing. That was when I lost all focus and could do nothing but think about Brian Regan's me monster routine. If you haven't seen it before, take a few minutes and watch. (Or at least the first thirty seconds to understand what I'm talking about.)
There wasn't really a genuine me monster in the room, but the chaotic conversation brought this to mind. Whenever situations like this take place, I find myself desiring an immediate escape. It's not that I don't appreciate hearing other people's stories- I love stories. I guess it's just the poor communication in these contexts that grates on my nerves. I guess my over-communicative self appreciates a little more structure, and this is a prime example.
Whatever. It's not a big deal, just a minor annoyance. I didn't come to be the me monster myself. Besides, I amused myself by daydreaming about Brian Regan doing this routine.
"Me, me, me, me!!!"
Hopefully I didn't have a stupid grin on my face at an inappropriate time during the tales of parenting woes. At least I had a good story to tell Isaiah later, who was participating in a different study.
And hopefully, the story of my entire day was entertaining as well. We went home last night, put the kiddos to bed, and enjoyed watching a movie just the two of us. We even managed to sleep through the night without hearing our furry intruders.
I do realize that my day wasn't really that bad. Just hectic, but what else is new? Hectic is more of a norm for most of us these days. Nothing tragic or even remotely sad took place. Honestly, I really enjoyed yesterday.
A little laughter, self-deprecation, and perspective go a long way. Would that I could always have such a positive attitude!
"A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22
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