Yesterday was One of Those Days. It just seemed like no matter what I did, I couldn’t get ahead. And my children seemed out to sabotage my progress at every turn. All week I had been looking forward to last night’s girls’ night out at my neighbor Kim’s house, but yesterday was the clincher.
At about 5PM, I sent this email to both Kim and Shannon:
In the past 24 hours…
1. R has pooped in her pants, which fell out onto the bathroom rug
when I took her pants down, not knowing there was poop inside.
2. R has peed on the floor beside my desk.
3. R has decided to drench the powder room towel and drip it
until there was a puddle the size of the room on the powder room
floor. This while I was baking my dessert to take to Kim’s and I
couldn’t take my eyes off it.
4. I’ve found 4 boys in my garage wailing with all their might on an empty box with golf clubs.
5. I have been to the pool and back with 4 kids.
6. And now R is running to the bathroom every 20 minutes with green poo.
7. I have made a delectable dessert, on which I intend to gorge later tonight.
8. I have NOT had a shower. OR a glass of wine.
I’ll be over as soon as you see a big black truck pull into my driveway. Have the drinks ready.
One might think that’s enough drama for one 24-hour period in a person’s life. One might be wrong.
After dinner, as I began gathering up the food stuffs I was contributing to the shindig, my 5-year-old went to put her glass of milk down on the counter and missed. Milk went E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. It was actually quite impressive. Hub and I looked at each other with a grimace, and then I wiped down the pack of my pants and said, "See ya! Have a great evening!"
I’m not even kidding.
Then I gathered my stuff and walked out the door. Poor Hub, left with all that nasty clean-up. Although, after the clean-ups I’d had, I didn’t have a whole lot of sympathy.
When I got to Kim’s, Shannon was already there, looking all cute with her hair curled and wearing heels. We all poured ourselves a drink and started setting out food, waiting for the rest of the ladies to arrive.
And then we heard the most horrifying screech from the basement, where all of our girls were playing. We didn’t pay much attention at first. I mean, with 5 girls, screams and squeals are often the status quo. But this was no ordinary scream. We all kind of looked at each other quizzically, and then finally Kim said, "That’s Kiki."
That woman has good ears, let me tell you. I had no clue who it was. At that, Shannon took off for the basement. Kim and I stood there a minute, and then I ventured down the stairs. Shannon was running back up. She looked traumatized. Wringing her hands, she said to me, "Oh my gosh, she BROKE HER ARM."
Now, Shannon’s an x-ray tech. She knows a broken arm when she sees one. So I knew the situation was dire.
She regrouped and went back down. Kiki was hysterical, holding her arm, and y’all. I am NOT an x-ray tech, and even I knew it was broken.
I went back up and told Kim what had happened, and while I am pretty much useless in a crisis situation, Kim is the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. She took off across the street for Shannon’s husband and managed to get everyone going in the right direction. And that was no small feat, as you will see if you read her version of the night.
After we saw Shannon and AK and Kiki off to the ER, we took the kids and walked back across the street. I think we all looked a bit dazed, trying to recover from the drama. My two-year-old kept saying, "Dat ‘cared me."
By this time, the other ladies were arriving, so of course we had to recount the story about twenty-five times.
We did manage to salvage the evening, although we all felt badly that Shannon was missing out. And of course we were concerned for little Kiki. Later that night, we were all sitting on the back deck, enjoying the balmy evening, and Shannon, AK, and Kiki arrived to pick up AJ, who we had kept with us. Kiki had her arm in a temporary cast, and she seemed to be out of pain, at least for the time being.
AK was kind enough to take the kids home and put them to bed so Shannon could salvage what was left of her girls’ night out.
And these are the days of our lives…