Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Some days, I should have just stayed in bed.
Current mood: amused
The other day Billy was free to hang out with us all day (yippee!) My mom was supposed to take Sweetcheeks to stay the night- but to make a long story short, that fell through. Instead, Billy, all the boys and I headed to the park. When we got there I needed to nurse Babyman, so Billy headed out with Littleman on his scooter and Sweetcheeks on the trike. Once Babyman was ready, I started gathering a few things for the diaper bag so that he and I could catch up with everyone else. Lo and behold, we had no extra pants for Sweetcheeks. And let me tell you, going anywhere without a spare pair of pants for him is just asking for trouble. I checked in with Billy (what did we do before cell phones?) before driving back home to pick up some extra pants.
As I near home, I notice a large van parked in front of the house. I've never seen the van before, and I can't see anyone around. It strikes me as odd. I pull into the driveway, hitting the button to open the garage. Looking inside, I see that the door inside the garage (going into the house) is ajar. Now, I'm creeped out. Still it's possible that, in our typical mad rush to get out the door, we might not have closed it properly. So, I decide to leave Babyman sleeping in his carseat while I have a look.
I quietly creep through the door and pause in our little basement storage room (it's a split-level house). The dogs are not waiting to greet me at the top of the stairs, as they normally would after hearing the garage door. I listen carefully, and then I can hear dishes being shifted around in the kitchen. It sounds like silverware clinking. It's definitely not the cat! Somebody is in the house.
I silently hightail it back outside and into the van, hitting 911 on my cellphone as I go. As I lock myself and Babyman in, I report my suspicions and await the police. The adrenaline is pumping. The dispatcher keeps me on the line until the cops start arriving- not one, not two, not three but four police cars show up. As soon as I hang up with 911 I call Billy to let him know what's going on. He's a bit alarmed, of course. . . but then he asks me if it could be our friend Jeremy. Jeremy and my brother had planned to drive a dishwasher out to the house that week (long story), and it hadn't worked out. Perhaps Jeremy had borrowed a van to drive it out? Sitting there in my van, looking at the cops gathering on my driveway, a curious mixture of relief, amusement, embarrassment and dread flooded me. Of course! Somehow I knew immediately that Billy had it right. That was good- my house wasn't being robbed- but now I had to tell all those police "Oops, sorry! It's just a buddy of ours. Didn't mean to call you out here for nothing- (insert airheaded giggle) My bad!" I let the police know it might be a friend, and described Jeremy. Sure enough, a moment later Jeremy comes out to get something from the van, only to discover police everywhere! Police, and my sheepish, relieved self. Luckily, everyone involved was very good natured about the whole thing. I was very, very embarrassed.
So, after calling the cops on a very good friend, I snagged some pants for Sweetcheeks and headed back toward the park. Billy decided to continue down the path with the boys, and meet me at a restaurant for a late lunch/early dinner. We had a nice meal, during which Littleman dumped out his ENTIRE glass of water and Babyman fussed for much of the time. (My sandwich and veggies were still quite yummy, though). Afterwards, the plan was that Billy would take the boys out to play some more, and I would settle in at the coffeeshop to sip tea and knit while Babyman napped. Ahh.
I get my tea steeped just right, and pour a nice cup with some honey. Just as I begin casting on the next section of the sweater I am knitting, Babyman gets fussy. I spend the next 30 minutes or so trying a variety of things to get him to calm down, while my tea grows steadily colder. Finally, he falls back asleep in his carrier. Just about then, Billy and the boys show up.
The boys are cheerful and wired, climbing all over the chairs and crawling under the table. (I was in a back corner of the room, where some cushy chairs were grouped together, so at least they weren't bothering anyone else. Much). While Billy figures out what to order, Sweetcheeks poops in his pants. So, Billy (what a great Daddy!) takes Sweetcheeks and some supplies (I told you we'd need those pants!) off to the bathroom. I manage to drink a couple sips of tea, then I sit back again to knit.
Littleman by now has drunk more of my tea than I have (it was rooibos, which is decaf). He's using my coffee stirrer as a straw, leaning over the cup so he doesn't have to pick it up off the coffee table. Just as I get about halfway through a purl row, he comes over to me looking crestfallen. "Mommy", he says, "I'm sorry but when I was drinking your tea a drop of my mocos fell in it". Now, for those of you that do not speak spanish, "mocos" basically means "snot". (It's the word we use for snot in our household). So you can imagine how delighted I was with this little tidbit of information. Sigh. Seeing that I was looking a bit downtrodden at this turn of events, Littleman comes over to give me a sweet hug. He leans over to hug me where I'm sitting, wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head on my lap. Awww. After a moment he looks at me with his sweet, curious face and innocently asks, "Mommy, why is your tummy still fat?"
Geeeez.
What a day.
(The evening was an improvement, though)
* * *
Thumbs-up tonight goes to this fun little site: http://www.ericmyer.com/blue/stereotypes_II.htm. Swapping out the halves of faces is surprisingly amusing. . . I played with it for quite some time! Check out Editions I and III as well. Enjoy!
relaxed 
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