Alternately Titled: A Day from H*LL OR The Worst Day Ever
The day before Valentine’s Day is rough if you’re single or, in my case, just unable to be with your spouse. I knew it would be emotionally challenging, but I was doing my best to make it a good day for the kids. I had already given them the small gifts from Kev and me. After surviving theblizzards that wouldn’t end, Kady’s plague of pneumonia, and several days at my parents’ house, we arrived home to bare cupboards—eating stale popcorn and scraping the sides of the peanut butter jar type of bare cupboards.
We took off to the “big city” of Fayetteville to get our groceries. The Fayetteville Wal-Mart ended up being our destination, despite some objections on my part (it’s right beside the mall and most restaurants—almost insuring traffic issues on the Saturday night before Valentine’s Day).
Sure enough, it was BUSY. The check-out lines were 5 deep when we walked through the door, but have you ever tried to drag children out of a Wal-Mart before they’ve had a chance to look? I’m sure it’s DHS-call worthy, or at least the sounds they would make would appear that way. We stayed. I decided to suck it up and bite the bullet and just do it and all those other cliché things people say when the situation pretty well stinks, but you don’t have a choice. . .
Almost immediately, Kady began cheering. Loudly.
As we were leaving, Kady apparently thought she saw her daddy, despite the fact that he’s 8 hours away. She was loudly yelling, “DADDY, DADDY WAIT! WAIT, DADDY!!!” I was never quite sure which one she thought looked like Kev, but I can say there were a few men I’d never seen before making a speedy get away. . .
After slowly (due to VDay traffic/auto accidents) making our way in the general direction of home, I called a single with no-children, teacher friend of mine, who is often intrigued/appalled at the misadventures my hooligans get me into. As I was talking to her, chaos suddenly ensued, and I found myself saying something I never dreamed I would say. . .
My daughter had attempted to throw a chicken nugget at her brother and missed. The sticky, poultry ball had ricocheted off my jacket, rolled down the arm, and bounced in my lap.
I can assure you that we are not in the regular habit of throwing food. My theory? Apparently, when one recovers from pneumonia, one finds themselves with an overabundance of energy and the need to throw food towards one’s sibling. . .What can I say, it’s the best answer I’ve come up with.
Anyway, as you can imagine, we immediately began discussing disciplinary actions that would occur as soon as we were home. Kady began crying. She announced that if I tried to discipline her, she would throw me in with the frogs. Yep. I checked it twice, because I thought I might not have understood. If I tried to discipline her, SHE WOULD THROW ME IN WITH THE FROGS. . .I managed not to laugh, but it was one of those parenting moments when you can’t decide whether to laugh, cry, yell, or just give up and completely LOSE IT. . .
And, just when you thought I survived (without getting thrown to the frogs), I arrived home to find that I had washed a pull-up in the washing machine. . .So, how was your Valentine’s Day?
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