Our Busy Day: A Long Ramble
Because it took me longer to edit this post than I thought it would, any mention of "today" probably means "two days ago." Read it with that in mind.
Today was a day of highs, lows, and some unfortunate firsts.
We are still down to one car (I am not sure if I mentioned this lack of dual carship in a previous post or not. . .my husband's trans am is in the shop. It can only be worked on by certain shops and we've been waiting on it for several weeks now.). Because of this, if I need to go anywhere on a weekday I have to wake up with Matt (not a huge deal; because of Claire I'm usually up before him anyway), get the girls ready to go (sometimes a pain, sometimes not so much), and deliver Matt at his place of employment (about fifteen minutes away if the traffic is cooperative) . . .then at the end of the day I have to reverse the process. Not a huge burden, I suppose, but Coryn can be somewhat of a slow riser and the first time we went through this process, we almost had to shove her into the car naked because she'd undressed herself but not dressed herself. . .I popped a t-shirt dress over her head, bullet dodged. Now, however, I have the power of the word "gymnastics" to wave over her little sleepy-head. If I say, "Get up! We have to take Daddy to work so we can got to gymnastics!" she wakes right up.
So the day started out normally. I've started putting out clothes the night before on these nights so she has something she can wear to class ready for her. I gave her a yogurt cup and a spoon and we were on our way. Matt was dropped off uneventfully, and then I had my other errands to run.
Matt has to be at work about 8 on his normal mornings (sometimes there are much earlier mornings, but thankfully they haven't been on days when I've needed the car) and gymnastics isn't until 12:15, but I had a list of other things to do while I had the car. I needed to take back the library books (which were due today; I always cut it close now that getting the car is such a hassle). I needed to mail a crocheted turtle to someone (yay! actually made an Etsy sale! Look at my stuff HERE). . .and I guess that was it. Not a ton of errands, just two time sensitive ones (that turtle had been on my brain since the person ordered it Friday night and it had been eating at me that I couldn't send it first thing Monday like I really wanted to).
Through all this, I had to keep in mind that poor Caen, the loyal German Shepherd, was locked in his kennel (it is sort of it his own fault for flipping out if we leave him outside. I'd prefer to leave him in the backyard, but he can't handle that, so kennel it is) and would remain so until we returned to rescue him, so I didn't want to linger too long. . .well, I did and I didn't. As much as I hate to abuse poor Caen, I've felt really trapped without my car. It isn't that I go places all that often. I just like the option to go places without having to prearrange it with my husband. In Iwakuni, everything was in walking distance and that is one thing I really miss about Japan. . .that and actually knowing people. I don't really know very many people here, like I can count the people I remember the names of on my fingers (and seven of them are our across the street neighbors. . .well, six of them are. They have one daughter whose name I haven't quite been able to catch yet, and I'm embarrassed to ask again).
So I'd prepped for efficient errand running. I had my baby bag, my library books, and my turtle package in the front seat with me, my daughters strapped in the back seat, and I'd wanted to bring a coffee along but last minute couldn't find a to go cup and didn't want to bother with a real one (I save the to go cups from fast food places to wash and reuse. . .drives Matt crazy, but oh well, he married me, hoarder instincts and all). First stop: post office. That was uneventful except for being called young lady (I don't get that much any more. I'm only 27, I know, but I have two kids now and I don't look 16 any more. . .I used to look 16. Right after we got married, at the reasonable ages of 22 and 24, I was working at Barnes and Noble Cafe and I had one guy ask me if I thought his son would like a book because we looked about the same age. His son was 17. Others would eye my wedding ring suspiciously and I got lots of "You're married? How old are you?" Matt told me I should start saying, "Fifteen. . .he's 32 but we were really in love!" Of course, once he gave me this great response no one ever asked again and I never got a chance to use it. . . off topic again. This is why we can't have nice things! Because you'll go off topic all over them. . .wait. . .that doesn't make sense. . .I'm tired.) by the forty-ish clerk. . .and Oh! I estimated the shipping on my turtle within five cents which makes me feel better about the shipping prices I have listed on my etsy items.
At this point, I was seriously considering just dropping off the library books and not going in to get new ones. I ran this idea by Coryn who said, "No! We have to get new books!" I said we'd see. . .and kept driving. . .
That is when the first of the awful firsts kicked in. At first I thought Coryn had spilled something. There was this whooshing, splattering noise. I think I might've even yelled, "Pick that up quick!" thinking she'd dropped a water bottle and was letting it drain all over the seat. . .then I thought, "Wait, I never gave her a water bottle. . ." and that was when I realized she was puking.
Yeah, all over the back seat, thankfully not on herself or on her sister except for some drops on her arm. I found my way to a Walgreen's parking lot and got her out while I did my best to tidy up with wet wipes. Of course, she was crying. Coryn hates to be dirty, or sticky, or smelly, or poorly dressed. . .Now I really wanted to just drop and run at the library.
I called Matt to ask his opinion on whether gymnastics should be cancelled and got a "be sure you clean up the car the right way using this and this and this. . ." lecture but we agreed that as long as she didn't get sicker and was able to keep down food, gymnastics would continue. I think she must've been carsick. My driving can do that to you. . . so yeah, not the first time she's ever thrown up, but the first time she's ever done so in a car.
By the time we go to the library she was her chipper self and just as insistent that she wanted to go inside and look around for awhile. . .and me being me and her being her. . .well, we did. We got some really good books, including two that were on the discontinued book shelf on sell for a quarter a piece (I didn't have change and paid a dollar instead since it was a drop box sort of payment situation. I know. I'm such a high roller. . .) and one that Coryn asked to read again when we finished it the first time, always a good sign. . .I'll have to write out reviews for them, but not tonight. Tonight I have lots more story to tell.
We also got two audio books, one of the Magic Tree House which I've never actually read but I've heard good things about and the other of Mercy Watson by one of my favorite authors, Kate Di Camillo. On the way out I popped Mercy Watson in only to have Coryn whine that she wanted to listen to music instead. I said, no, she was listening to the story whether she liked it or not, but she didn't seem to be paying attention to it, so I wrote that off as a loss. Maybe audio books aren't her thing. I honestly don't care for them because I prefer not to hear books in other people's voices, so I can kind of understand that. . .but I kept it in anyway (partially because I like Kate DiCamillo a lot, even her fluffy, easy reader stuff like Mercy Watson.). Claire was sleeping at this point so we drove down to the section of fast food restaurants a few blocks out of our way and (sorry, my healthy husband who thinks Coryn gets too many treats) stopped at Krispy Kreme for a special treat. Coryn picked out the "one with blue sprinkles" that turned out to be cotton candy flavored and I got a New York cheesecake one; they were both pretty awesome. Claire slept through it all and then we were on our way.
By the time we got home it was about ten and Caen was understandably eager to get out of his kennel. I felt bad knowing I'd be putting him back in it in roughly two hours, but then I got involved with figuring out how much of my daily chores I could get done in that two hours.
Normally Tuesday is bathroom cleaning (there are three total in this house) and sheet changing day, but because of a long story involving dog hair, internet research, furniture polish, and me nearly giving my husband a concussion (furniture polish is slippery. . .), I also needed to clean the floor. Oh and the kitchen was a mess and there was laundry to be hung (dryer still broken but I'm reluctant to replace it now that I've discovered in door line drying). . . I had a meal in the crockpot already. I'd actually made it the night before and just plugged it in that morning. . .honestly, I'm not sure exactly what I did for that two hours. Coryn played with her friends next door. I made lunch and a snack to take with us. I didn't get any of the big chores I had planned done (I know because I got them done that afternoon). . .but I also know I didn't really have time to sit down and do any of my usual time wasting things. . .I honestly don't remember what I did other than straighten up the kitchen and make snacks and that shouldn't have taken that long. . .
Anyway, I collected Coryn from her friends and off we went again to gymnastics. One of the favorite methods of Coryn's teacher is using smarties (those little sweet tart candies). After class she informed me, "Mommy, the teacher is always giving me candy. Why?"
"Because you do a good job," I said.
"That's not very healthy," she sighed. I kind of smiled at this and suggested that she ask the teacher not to give her candy then. "I don't think she'd stop," Coryn said (I don't think Coryn wants her to stop). She then expressed concern that the other kids in class might not be eating healthy lunches and breakfasts because she knows you can't have candy if you haven't had a healthy meal first.
When we got home, Coryn was thrilled to see her friends from next door were waiting for her; in fact, the younger one was so excited that she had come back that she did a little dance on her way across the street. I let the dog out of doggy jail and then it happened: heralded by a shriek that could probably be heard in Alabama, Coryn was stung by a wasp. I later went out and sprayed the nest the nasty little creatures had built under our mailbox, so revenge was eventually had, but in the meantime, Coryn wouldn't stop screaming. She screamed. And she screamed. And she SCREAMED!
"Why did that bee sting me? Why?" she wept. It just didn't make sense. She hadn't been bothering it at all and it had stung her. Such a mean bee. I tried to explain wasps weren't like honey bees (I've always told her if she leaves honey bees alone they will leave her alone which I've found to be true) and sometimes they stung just to be mean. . .at least that's the best explanation I could come up with. I suppose in wasp logic there might've been some reason for stinging Coryn on the hand. She may have simply been too close for comfort and seen as a threat, but since she didn't even know that the nest was there, I don't think she would've accepted that. It took her a long time to calm down . . .and that was the second bad first: first bee sting.
Eventually, though, the bee sting was forgotten. . . well, not forgotten. She told the story to anyone who would listen and definitely remembers it, but she managed to move on anyway. I got my chores done, got dinner on the table (crock pot meal so I didn't have to do much), went and picked Matt up at work. Yeah, that was our crazy day.