I am delighted to be able to say that I have recently discovered that I love that Sort of Day. Always have, always will! This post is about how I arrived at this remarkable discovery.
Blur having ended by an hour or so, hubby kissed and sent to work with hot coffee, I sat on the couch with two sets of large brown eyes peering over my shoulders as I set out to plan meals for the week and write a grocery list. I rocked the baby with my left foot, shooed the dog away from her with my right. Feeling rather smug at having come this far with so much patience I decided I may as well conduct my grocery shopping like the Super Girl I surely must be. Bravely, jaws a-set, I wrote things on that list I knew could only be purchased (within the budget) at the various discount stores scattered across town. I did what Paul calls "a round of diaper changes"*, bundled everyone in coats and hats, and we set out into the wilderness. Mind you, even that sounds simple but in fact it is not. We have three kids, all of whom still require some sort of car seat, and getting them to fit in the back of a Hyundai is an acquired skill. I have not yet fully acquired that skill.
Stop #1: The Bakery Thrift Store. We can get 3 bags of bagels or healthy bread for $4. Super good deal, right? I unleash Max first in order to be able to extract Iris's car seat from the depths of the vehicle. Max darts to a frozen mud puddle on the edge on the parking lot. Jonah can't get out because his coat is caught on the door handle. It is 20 degrees out and 2 month old Iris has a cough. Super Girl comes through, sweeping everyone into the bread store with nary a frown nor tear. Once inside, Max makes a mad dash to the "Employees Only" back room; Jonah reaches for expired Christmas Cranberry Bagels, explaining in thorough detail why they are the best option for us today; I plop Iris down in a corner grinning benevolently to the cashier and chirping "Back in a sec!" as I scramble after Maxcito; and the delivery guy and woman stocking the shelves glare at the parade with astonished horror.
Stop # 5: By now, our car is filled with delicious, healthy foods that I bought for under $100, but I hobble through Food Lion for the last things we need - things that cannot be found at any of the discount stores. By this time I am convinced that keeping the two boys contained is in everyone's best interest. So...they perch tightly strapped in one of those shopping carts that have a car in front, but tragically no spot for an infant seat. Hence, I find myself pushing this remarkably cumbersome cart with one hand and lugging an infant seat with the other. Cursing, ohhhhh cursing and cursing the imbecile who didn't think to invent a shopping cart for more kids! It was then 5pm, and though I have mastered the art of navigating grocery stores, we have been out since just after lunch. My nap deprived toddler reaches other worldly heights with his shrieks and screams. He receives pitied looks from strangers and I, having been abandoned by Super Girl several stops ago, attempt some brilliant, sassy remark in effort to show these folks why they should never give a naughty toddler reason to feel justified in his misbehavior....it comes out a low, rumbling growl, something like, "Quit being a b***y f*** b**** and mind your own business!!" Sigh. Lame.
The husband who had left in the morning to a playful slap on the rear from Super Girl is greeted by a wild eyed mother of three teetering on the verge of insanity. Heroically, he sent me to my room without a word, but with a large glass of wine and a book. I slammed the door, locked it, and tried to tune out what sounded like a tsunami/tornado/circus collision coming from my kitchen.
An hour later a battle-weary Paul joined me in recovery.
Late that night I went downstairs for a midnight snack, and there it was. Twas left by Paul...(I envisioned him there in the kitchen, determined not to be wasteful of such an important parental necessity, but being clawed at by, not 3, but dozens of crazy children, doing the best he could in that moment of desperation...).Twas a lil poke from God, a reminder that He was watching and laughing all the time...it was just what I needed to gather the pieces of myself up off the floor, to reunite with Super Girl, and to do it with a chuckle and a sigh. It made me realize that that Sort of Day is, by it's very nature, an Epic Adventure, and I have always loved Epic Adventures. In the incredible exhaustion that results from that Sort of Day, it was hilarious.
The wine bottle. It was corked with a pacifier.
*This is a mild exaggeration, as there are only two in diapers.
Stop # 5: By now, our car is filled with delicious, healthy foods that I bought for under $100, but I hobble through Food Lion for the last things we need - things that cannot be found at any of the discount stores. By this time I am convinced that keeping the two boys contained is in everyone's best interest. So...they perch tightly strapped in one of those shopping carts that have a car in front, but tragically no spot for an infant seat. Hence, I find myself pushing this remarkably cumbersome cart with one hand and lugging an infant seat with the other. Cursing, ohhhhh cursing and cursing the imbecile who didn't think to invent a shopping cart for more kids! It was then 5pm, and though I have mastered the art of navigating grocery stores, we have been out since just after lunch. My nap deprived toddler reaches other worldly heights with his shrieks and screams. He receives pitied looks from strangers and I, having been abandoned by Super Girl several stops ago, attempt some brilliant, sassy remark in effort to show these folks why they should never give a naughty toddler reason to feel justified in his misbehavior....it comes out a low, rumbling growl, something like, "Quit being a b***y f*** b**** and mind your own business!!" Sigh. Lame.
The husband who had left in the morning to a playful slap on the rear from Super Girl is greeted by a wild eyed mother of three teetering on the verge of insanity. Heroically, he sent me to my room without a word, but with a large glass of wine and a book. I slammed the door, locked it, and tried to tune out what sounded like a tsunami/tornado/circus collision coming from my kitchen.
An hour later a battle-weary Paul joined me in recovery.
Late that night I went downstairs for a midnight snack, and there it was. Twas left by Paul...(I envisioned him there in the kitchen, determined not to be wasteful of such an important parental necessity, but being clawed at by, not 3, but dozens of crazy children, doing the best he could in that moment of desperation...).Twas a lil poke from God, a reminder that He was watching and laughing all the time...it was just what I needed to gather the pieces of myself up off the floor, to reunite with Super Girl, and to do it with a chuckle and a sigh. It made me realize that that Sort of Day is, by it's very nature, an Epic Adventure, and I have always loved Epic Adventures. In the incredible exhaustion that results from that Sort of Day, it was hilarious.
The wine bottle. It was corked with a pacifier.
*This is a mild exaggeration, as there are only two in diapers.
