Mother Nature -- she's a bitch. She toys with me; seducing me into climate-controlled bliss, all the while lurking in the background, waiting for the perfect moment to caress with me the bitch-slap only she can provide.
She and I first clashed 3 yrs ago, when she struck a blow stranding Ryan (at a mere 11 mos old) and myself in our car on I35 for 4 1/2 hours. 4 1/2 hours with a hungry baby (no food), in freezing/snowy/icy weather, with no way out. (Yes, I know that all the victims of this summer's hurricane-induced gridlock had it much much worse, but allow me to lament, please.) There I was, all excited about the notion of not having to go to work the next day, hurrying home to snuggle with my baby & hubby in front of the fire, and then...the sh*t hit the fan (more precisely: the ice hit the road). She really screwed Shawn more than anyone, 'cause he still had to go to work the next day (and spun out on the road, thank you), while I got to stay home and watch Ryan take her very first steps. Yep, the lady is a tramp.
Now let's fast forward to today. As you may have previously read, we were havin' a good day: costumes were worn, adventures were commenced, pics they were a-taken. Then came time to leave for Jax's doctor's appointment. A little dangerous, risking Austin roads in unusually wintry weather with other drivers who suddenly become retarded at the first hint of ice, but I am Supermommy, after all.
So there I was, hustling the kids out the door, trying to get out of the house early to avoid any "bumps" in navigating my way to the doctor's new office, when lo and behold, I cannot find my keys. I really wish I had a "clapper" for those f*ckers. I tend to lose them (or forget -- whatever) on a regular basis, so I wasn't too worried -- I'd pepared for moments like this. I grabbed the spare car key out of the junk drawer, threw the kid's snacks in my bag, grabbed sippy cuts, and jumped in the car, spilling sippy cup juice (yeah, those sippy cups work really well) all over my coat and pants. Problem? Not for Supermommy! I simply ran back inside, ditched the coat, grabbed a towel and rubbed furiously at the cranberry-red juice stain on my crotch. No time to change, but who cares? Not that easily embarrassed, kiddos.
Back in the car, I realize that Shawn's got the garage door opener in his truck, so I jump out, punch the door closed, run to the car (very Dukes of Hazard) and we're off. It's only as I'm driving away that I remember that I can't get back into the house without a key if the garage door won't open. Whoopsie poopsie. No prob -- again, been there, done that. After the last time I got locked out and had to break a window, I hid a key by the front door, so I knew we'd be okay.
I eventually make it to the doctor's new office -- that is; I find the address. It seems there are a plethora of medical offices located at this one single address, none of which have any labeling whatsoever. Sweet. Nothing I look forward to more than running from one office building to the next in 32 degree weather, toting a 20 lb baby (in carrier) while ferrying a pre-schooler who can at best be described as a "lollygagger", all in just a chunky wool sweater and jeans. All I'm thinking is , "Where are the freakin' movie cameras?" When I finally do find the right building, I'm like a mouse sniffing out the cheese trying to find the actual office. They've conveniently chosen to build their second empire inside an outpatient surgical center, making it more of an "outpost" than an actual office. There was no waiting room (after all, what mother with young, sick children needs to sit?), and the patient rooms were more like curtained-off areas. *cue theme music from Deliverence*
Appointment goes well (a little wheezing, but nothing to NEB about, and NO ear infections!), and we leave having spent less than an hour in the hovel -- I mean, office. We work our way home, laughing all the way, until we get to the driveway and I remember...what was that?...Oh, right -- no house key, no garage door opener... It's dropped about 10 degrees since we originally left, and now I really don't feel like digging around in the dirt for my hide-a-key, but I guess we have to get inside since the gas tank is now reading EMPTY. I jump out of the car, sprint towards the front door (remember -- I'm practically naked ), and then I hear a scream and a very loud thump. I turn around*crossing fingers, squinting eyes* to find the car's nose bumped right into the garage door. Hmmm...I didn't realize I'd parked that close - no, wait -- my bad; the car is still in DRIVE. Splendid! Okay, fix the car issue, calm a freaking child ("Oh My God, Mom!!! The car just started moving by itself -- like a ghost; is there a ghost in the car Mom?!!!"), and head to the flower bed to find the hidden key. And I'm digging, I'm digging, I'm digging, (damn, I hid this bugger quite well) digging, digging... and nothing. Bloody hell -- Shawn used it a few weeks ago, and looks like he didn't put it back. Nifty. Not to worry, I see our neighbors are home, so we'll just crash at their place till someone can rescue us. Right? Wrong! Within 30 minutes of being there, Ryan attacks the neighbor's daughter with an umbrella so we excuse ourselves (really, terribly sorry -- hope it heals quickly!) and head to the grocery store to kill time till Shawn can get home.
Ahh yes, she truly is the Mother of all Mothers. I bow down to her in awe, "I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!" (now can we call a truce???).
Tuesday Newsday by The Pioneer Woman
3 days ago