There are bad days, and then there are Epically Bad Days.
Yesterday was an Epically Bad Day. Start to finish, it just wasn’t a good idea to be me. The good news is, as each craptastic event took its turn, I learned something new. Here are some highlights:
Usually, I’m the first one up. I set the alarm on my phone and get the men-in-my-life moving. This particular morning, I woke my husband up for work and then went back to sleep, after re-setting my alarm, of course. So at 8:42, my husband calls me to tell me he got to work okay (he has an hour and a half commute). I look at my phone and ask if, in my groggy WTH-is-going-on state, I was reading the time right. He says yep, and I say CRAPPP…ok..so it wasn’t that pleasant. Feel free to string a tastefully foul grouping of obscenities here. My son is supposed to be at his bus stop in 3, count ‘em 3 minutes. Yeah, that’s gonna happen.
One sacrifice that we made to afford my staying home in this economy was to be a one-car family. He had the car. Not hot in a situation like this. So I call some friends, and find him a ride. He was 20 minutes late. Life goes on.
Make sure that the alarm is set to a tone that will actually wake me up, always know that I have the best friends on the planet and get a friggin’ second car.
When I go to pick Kyan up from the bus stop, other 2 kids in-tow, we run into an elderly neighbor lady whom we see every once in a while. She takes a look at my middle child, Jaxon, and notices that he’s got a big, puffy shiner. Jaxon is extremely sensitive to bug bites. A mosquito got his eyelid over the weekend, and now he looks like the elephant man. So anyway, she asks in her crypt keepery voice, “Oh, dear. What happened to your eye?” My response, “Yeah, it looks pretty bad, but you should see the other guy.” The silence was deafening. That little old lady gave me the most disapproving, nasty little old lady look ever. Awkward? Absocrappinlutely. My attempt at recovery, “I’m just kidding. The little guy got bit by a mosquito. It looks terrible, doesn’t it? Poor kid.” This seemed to make things better, she gave an “Awwww,” and walked away.
Know your audience. Do NOT joke about fist-fighting 2-year-olds with antique people. Their senses of humor died decades ago. Whoops.
I love cold coffee. Before the hubz leaves for work, he always puts a pot on for me. I drink the first couple cups hot and then as it cools off, I drink it over ice. Delicioso. AND it saves money…no Starbucks $5 cups of joe for this girl. So, anyway, I poured the last of my cold coffee into my gimungous, red tumbler, of course, not paying much attention. I nursed that baby for quite a while as I wrote articles. When I took that last yummy gulp, I got a big ol’ honkin’ mouthful of coffee-groundy-nastiness. I have an incredibly sensitive gag reflex. Draw your own conclusion.
After 10 1/2 years of marriage, I still need to watch what the hubz is trying to put in my mouth. I may not have the choice whether to spit or swallow.
Jaxon has turned from a sweet, quiet wallflower into Captain Destructo. His favorite pastimes are pouring things out, tearing things up and chewing on stuff. I’m hoping it’s a phase. I have a feeling it’s a mixture of the terrible-twos, middle-child syndrome and experimentation. All summed up to be termed as “attention-seeking behavior”. I assure you, the kid gets TONS of positive attention, but no one knows how he perceives things.
Anyway, yesterday, he was in hyper Destructo mode. He poured out a bottle of baby oil (which I didn’t even know we had) on my favorite pillow, broke a chachki that was passed down to me from my great-great grandma and wasted an entire roll of paper towels, amongst other minor offenses throughout the day. I know what you’re thinking…why aren’t you watching this kid? Answer: He’s freakin’ crafty. He waits until I’m busy with one of his brothers and then blammo…evil. 1 mom to 3 boys. A girl can’t be everywhere at once.
NO MORE CHILDREN…at least not for a long time. I informed the hubz that he is no longer allowed to touch me. He was quite agreeable after he’d been home from work for a couple of hours.
I have a lot of friends that I keep in contact with on Facebook and Twitter. One such friend is a large, buff, shirtless-beach-volleyball-playin’ (yes please), completely yummy, athletic guy who I’ve been friends with since 5th grade. He also happens to be hella gay (I know, right?). He’ll be the first to tell ya and snap his giant fingers in your face. TOTALLY LOVE THIS GUY! So anyway, I noticed that he had a new profile picture, which is taken from a strange angle that makes him look like he has a gigantic body and tiny head. So, in true Jessi form, I call him out on it, making a remark that he looks like one of those atrocious, disproportionate new He-Man action figures. His response was to make fun of my dark, ridiculously curly “fro”. He’s been making fun of my quaff for over 20 years. This all-in-good-fun battle continues to wage on and has now gone from one thread to two.
If you’re going to poke fun at a sassy gay guy who happens to have 20 years worth of ammunition in his arsenal, be prepared to bring it, and don’t expect your mutual friends to step in and stop the war. They will laugh…a lot…and egg on both of your shenanigans. It is clear that maturity has not set in for either of us, yet. We both like it that way.
I battled with WordPress for hours and hours and hours and hours trying to upgrade my edition and make this site a little closer to what I want. I lost said battle.
Never undervalue the power of social networking. I met an awesomely cool guy on Twitter a couple weeks ago who introduced me to an awesomely cool guy who knows more than a thing or 100 about WordPress and is willing to help me fix some stuff. I may have lost the battle, but certainly not the war. Stay tuned for some pretty cool stuff…once I can actually do it.
As this post has become wayyyy longer than I intended, I’m throwing in the towel for now. These are just a few episodes of my Epically Bad Day. I left out retrieving a gooey, green fruit snack from my 2-year-old’s schnoz, frozen groceries and the bedtime that wasn’t. Good things for later? I think so.