kiwords

What. A. Day.

Can I tell you? You care, right? So today I told the boys that if they finished school early enough, I would consider buying them lunch out before we went to the allergist's office to get Tre shot. Get Tre his shots. Whatevs.

Predictably, they rose to the challenge, because I am a stingy wench who hardly ever buys them lunch - unless you count the many healthful and loving meals I have prepared them here at home - which they DO NOT.

We had coupons from the summer reading program that I wanted to use (see: stingy wench), so off we went. HOWEVER, when we arrived at the lovely burger-providing establishment, and I cheerfully announced my coupons to the metal menu board, I was informed, "We no longer accept more than one coupon per order." Which I pointed out was NOT on the coupons, to which she responded the policy WAS on the window where your pick up your order, to which I responded that is NOT where you PLACE your order, to which she responded that it was still their policy, and then my head exploded, and I apologized for wasting her time and I drove away. We ended up going to TWO OTHER fast food restaurants to fulfill the many luncheon demands, and at the last place a taco supreme somehow fell into my mouth, thereby answering the question, "How many fast food restaurants does it take to overcome the restraining influence of a baggie of walnuts tucked in your cupholder?"

Three. It takes THREE.

Nonetheless, we still had Tre's shots to get, so allergist's ahoy. When we got there, Tre and Max headed up to the office, while I waited in the van with the younger two so Raphael could finish his lunch. He spilled his drink twice while we waited. I sat in the front seat and pretended to be a calm and wonderful mother who happened to be swearing under her breath, rather than what I actually was, a slightly unhinged mother who happened to be swearing under her breath.

Raphael finally finished, and we got out of the van. I pulled out the stroller, scooped up Sophia and plopped her in it. One of the seatbelt straps was underneath her and I tugged it free. It slid out surprisingly smoothly, and then I saw why. Its movement was lubricated by a good cup and a half of baby poop.

It LOOKED like at least a cup and a half.

The next minutes are a blur of baby wipes (this - THIS is why I always carry an entire box of wipes with me. I AM VINDICATED) and scrubbing and stripping Sophia down and changing her and finding a new outfit and redressing her, all the while telling Raphael, "DO NOT TOUCH THAT. NO. NOT THAT EITHER. Look, just...PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD." He stood there with his hands on his head, saying, "Wow. I'm sorry your day is all the way bad, Mom. WOW."

After scrubbing the whole of the parking lot, I went up to the allergist's office, where they told me that Tre had fallen behind on his venom shots, and so was bumped back from his maintenance dose. While I stood there, trying to understand exactly how this happened, Sophia spit up all over me.

When Clay got home from work this afternoon he found me sitting at the kitchen table in my spitty shirt, eating Starbucks ice cream from the carton. He kissed me and asked how my day was. And I told him.

"Well. Would you like to go to the gym?" he replied.

And lo, I did.

And then my day got better, so much so that I am now able to handle the small setback life just handed me. I was just washing my face, and after I was done I noticed the print on the tube of face cleanser. It read, "Pore redefining scrub" which made me groan. Seriously? Who has time? But then, I DID use it already, and I suppose there is some sort of contractual obligation here, so fine. Everyone, please get out your dictionaries, and look up "pore." Found it? Good. Scratch out where it reads, "a minute opening in the skin or other surface through which gases, liquids, or microscopic particles may pass," and write there instead, "perforations in Kira's face that are exuding a sense of DONE WITH THIS DAY."