Today, well, it started off well.
But then I fell asleep - accidentally, I wasn't planning on it, just sat to watch the news and have coffee and woke up an hour later - and I'm afraid that nap was the high point of the day.
It wasn't even a good one, either, as I had terrible dreams.
but it meant that, when I woke up, I was wayyyy behind schedule. The first thing I had to do? Go to the grocery store - it seems that we were totally and 100% out of toilet paper - a fact that I'd only become aware of when all three bathrooms were simultaneously stranded at 5:55 a.m. and the resultant screams of "MOM!" could have woken the dead. Not only that, but I'm going out of town for the weekend - for a work trip - and needed to lay in provisions.
So, to Wal-Mart I went.
While busily randomly throwing stuff in the cart lovingly following my shopping list to the letter, my phone rang. It was the school nurse, with one of my children. She began with the niceties - How are you? How was your Mother's Day? How's your oldest boy? - and I just knew something was up. Call it mother's intuition. Quit the small talk, get to the meat of the convo.
She had one of my kids in there, complaining of a headache and a stomach ache.
Said child had told me she didn't feel well early that morning, but no one feels well on a Monday, right? Combine the Monday fact with the sleepover and up all weekend fact and this kid was very probably exhausted.
So said my mother's intuition, which then told the nurse I'd authorize Advil and a rest.
Which lead to an other call, ten minutes later, of one puke attack and a you-need-to-get-her-now edict.
So, I finished the last part of my shopping - seriously, I bought 50 items total, so it was maybe 5 things, and there was zero chance in the world of me getting back to the store before Thursday and I was in no way, shape or form about to put it all back - OR ask the store to hold it. I checked out, loaded up, and went to school.
Grabbed said child, loaded her in the truck, and started to drive home.
And my phone rang. It was my boss, calling to ask how I'd handled a particular event. I was attempting to drive, have a coherent conversation, keep the frozen food stacked in the front seat from falling on to me, listen for puking from the back seat (although I was pretty convinced it was a migraine and not the stomach flu I'd at first dreaded), and not drive off the road.
Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
We got home, I unloaded the groceries, and I sent my child up to bed. I ended my phone call and began to put the groceries away. I sat the pineapple on the counter and turned around. When I did so, I heard a sound behind me, and turned around in time to see that the pineapple had fallen over into a bowl of leftover chicken noodle soup. (Leftover from heating the rest of it for a school lunch.) As I watched in horror, the chicken noodle soup bowl flipped, hit the ground, and splashed back up, drenching me, my hair, the counters, the drawers, and the floor with cold, greasy chicken noodle soup.
It took a mop, half a roll of paper towels, and one quarter of a bottle of Mr. Clean, but I got it cleaned up. I then sat down my computer to work. 15 minutes later, my phone rang. It was my oldest daughter, who want me to come up and sign paperwork for her.
I loaded up my headachy child, who was already almost back at 100%, and we went to sign the paperwork for her sister. This took much longer than I had anticipated, and meant that I lost my lunch hour.
Did I have something else to do? Of course I did, you silly person. I always have something else to do. Today, I was scheduled to go and watch my opera singing daughters rehearsal. She and her schoolmates are performing Dido and Aeneas this weekend, and I'm sad to say that I will miss it, due to the aforementioned work trip. The director was kind enough to allow me to attend today's tech rehearsal, all so I could see my kids' solo (!!!). There was no way I could miss this - she would be furious. Even if I had a sick kid, there was no way I'd ever skip - she'd never forgive me. On the way to the rehearsal hall, I grabbed two sandwiches for us - TWENTY DOLLARS, OMG, high way robbery - and packed them in my purse to eat during the rehearsal.
I watched a fantastic rehearsal, but half way through, realized it was taking much longer than I'd anticpated, and I needed more quarters for the meter. So I left, and went to 7-11 across the street - who allowed me to get a cashback of $5 on a pack of gum purchase - but only gave me $1 in quarters. No more, he said. Not allowed, he said.
That bought me an hour.
At the end of the hour, I begged the bank across the street to change out another $2, and moved my car to a second metered spot, because I knew that the metered slots were only 2 hour slots and my tires had been chalked.
Rehearsal ended at 5:30 - it was a FANTASTIC show, if you are local, you should hit me up for info - and It was only then I realized one very important fact – I could not find my car keys.
As in, they were nowhere to be found. Had I left them at the bank? Dropped them on the ground? WHERE WERE THE KEYS???
I dumped out my purse. I looked between the seats. I looked all over the floor, crawling under seats, looking all the way down the incline, in the vain hope that possibly, my keys had slid. No dice. No keys were to be found, although I did find a black, wrinkled, dried out banana. I dumped my purse again.
I was frantic. The rehearsal hall is close to one hour from our house in heavy traffic, and I knew it would take forever for anyone to get to me with a spare. I knew that those keys had to be around somewhere – I retraced my steps completely. I even went back out to the truck, although I knew there was no way I could lock them in, as the truck will not lock with the keys inside.
I could feel my blood pressure rising. I absolutely hate it when I can't find something.
Again, I dumped out my purse - hey, I never ate my sandwich, whoops! - and I enlisted the help of my two children as well as one of the techies. We could not find the keys anywhere, and I was on the verge of tears. My headache child was bored, my opera child pissed, and I was almost hysterical. My visions of spending an hour or two had morped into four, I was exhausted, I had stacks of work to do at home - and no way to get there.
My husband arrived with the spare, and I departed, but he decided to stay and look. He asked me to retrace my steps one more time, and I did, but we couldn't find the keys anywhere. It wasn't until I was halfway home, and he called to ask me if I was sure that I hadn't done anything else, but I remember that I had visited the bathroom. In a flash, I could visualize the keys – they were hanging on the hook in the bathroom stall.
An action I never, ever, ever do.
Monday, you are fired.