You ever have one of those Monday mornings where it feels like the universe is trying to send you a message, and the message is not very nice?
… your nearly-five-year-old who should be nighttime trained by now but isn’t because he will be going to college in pull-ups has soaked through everything, because you were out of name-brand pull-ups and used the inferior no-name brand, and it was probably all Murphy’s Law-ish-ly because you just put clean sheets on his bed last night?
… that same child wakes up with a snot-covered face and you are out of daytime children’s cold medicine?
… your other child is complaining of a tummy ache, and she always complains of a tummy ache so it’s probably nothing, except that you have a tummy ache, so maybe it’s not nothing?
… having a cup of tea to settle your stomach turns out to be a really bad idea?
… you receive a rude email from a non-paying eBay buyer who is irate that you’ve filed a claim against them, because surely it must be your fault that they’ve failed to pay you?
… after packing lunches inbetween running to the bathroom, and getting everyone out the door on time, the neighbor greets you at the bus stop with “Wow, you look like crap”?
I’m thinking that if I had a morning like that, I’d be very grumpy, indeed. Yes.
But, as luck would have it, I’ve pretty much repressed everything that happened before we walked out the door today. What? Where? I can’t heeeeaaaaar you!
So Chickadee got on the bus, and Monkey and I headed off to Wallyworld to pick up some cold medicine and some real pull-ups. This deviation from our normal schedule was joy-producing for my small boy. He bounced through the parking lot, then laid his head in the crook of my neck as I was lifting him into the cart. “Mama,” he sighed into the hollow at the base of my throat, “I love you. And I love cold medicine.”
First we selected our pull-ups, based on the vast array and what coupons I had. Lucky for me, Buzz Lightyear was still the most economical choice. It may have gotten ugly if we’d had to go with something inferior and uncool like Mickey Mouse. Of course, it’s apparently not uncool to piss your pants all night long, so my understanding of how the coolness factor is ascertained is clearly lacking. But judging by what little I understand, certain catastrophe was avoided by going with our longtime favorite, Buzz.
On our way back across the store (approximately 3 miles, as Wallyworld is Super Gigantic) towards the cold medicine, I decided to detour in the fabric section. Monkey will be having a Justice League birthday party this year, and because I have multiple holes in my brain, I came up with the brilliant idea that we will decorate capes at the party. That way, we have an activity and a cool party favor and something thematic all in one. Plus, it will probably require a gazillion hours of crafty “prep” time for me in the weeks beforehand, and I will then have a houseful of 5-year-old boys “flying” through the air and I think that would be a wonderful sight to behold just before I gouge out my own eyes with the little straws from the Capri Sun juice pouches they’ll be having.
Where was I? Oh yes. Fabric. So. Monkey and I headed for the Dollar Table and launched into a deep discussion of the relative merits of the various offerings. This one is super cool looking (he said), but further examination revealed that it was rather hard and scratchy. This one feels superheroish (I offered), but the color did not meet with his approval. (“No one in the Justice League has a grey cape,” he chided me. “Don’t be crazy, Mama!”) At least we found a suitable midnight blue material, soft and supple and shiny and–naturally–super! The lady who measured it out for us chatted with Monkey as he strove to explain to her that technically, Spiderman is not in the Justice League, but he is also very super, therefore we will also have some Spiderman party favors. But the capes are going to be the very best part, he confided.
Finally we were on our way to the cold medicine. Again we paused as I compared the choices to my coupons, and after our selections were made, it was off to the registers. Once we paid, I pulled our cart over to the side and gave Monkey one of the “thin strips” I’d just bought. Monkey was not at all sure that he wanted to put this flat purple thing in his mouth, at first. But as it melted, a large grin spread over his face.
“Mama! This is yummy and melting! Also I think I feel it melting my snot away!” There may have been some folks in aisle 18 who didn’t hear him, but everyone else in the store did. My guess is that with a ringing endorsement like that, the thin strips will be sold out there by noon. (“But they melt the snot away! Really!”)
I hear it’ll be Tuesday in just about 14 hours or so….