I was determined to get to MOPS today. Anderbug needed to play, I was looking forward to the social time, and Miss V's pretty much up for anything as long as there's a bottle and a snuggle involved. So, "Mission: Take Two Babies to MOPS" began last night. I packed the diaper bag, I prepared A's snack, I laid out clean clothes for the three of us, I scheduled our departure for 9am. I patted myself on the back for my superior organizational skills, and went to bed anticipating a good Monday.
Oh, but Monday had other plans for us.
First, there was the "possessed bedroom clock incident" that had us leaping from bed when we saw "7:45" on the display. Only after I'd started getting ready and J had taken A downstairs for breakfast did we realize it was kind of dark for nearly 8am. It looked more like, uh, 7am. A look at the microwave clock confirmed what we feared- we were up much earlier than we needed to be for no good reason at all and we also need a new clock that doesn't skip ahead as it pleases. Strike one, Monday.
At 9am, we loaded up and off to MOPS we went. But instead of scampering off to play as he usually does when we walk through the child care doors, the Mister clung to my neck and screamed. When a kind teacher reached out to help, A took a swing at her hand and screamed louder. I finally got brave and walked away, figuring it was true what they say, he'd quit crying as soon as mommy left. I got myself a
donut healthy breakfast, settled in with the ladies, and was enjoying some mom-chat for 20 minutes or so .... until my cell phone rang. It was A's teacher. The Mister, it seemed, did NOT stop crying. So back I went to pick up my very sad boy. Who clung to my neck sobbing as I carried him to the car (while wearing V and lugging our 40 pound diaper bag, mind you) and choked back tears of my own for no good reason other than that I'm still a hormonal mess from time to time. Strike two, Monday.
I get them both strapped into their seats, and the big one stops crying as we pull out of the parking lot. Silence. For two seconds. Then the little one starts crying. Then screeching. Then choking and sputtering and making a whole lot of noise for someone under 10 pounds. And that's how I ended up in a Long John Silver's parking lot, feeding Vivi while Anderson howled (because I wouldn't free him from his seat, knowing once he was out going back in was going to be a fight). If you're counting along, this is strike 3. Anyone knows you're out on strike 3, and a smart mom would have called it a day and headed home now, right? Oh, no! I put on EYELINER, people. We were all three dressed and decent. We were going somewhere, because we were not going to sit around the house all day long.
To Borders, I decided. It was on our way home, I wanted a new book to read, and A likes to hit up the kid section. So we get to the parking lot, I get out, put the Bjorn back on, remove a sleeping V from her car seat and insert her into the Bjorn. Open the back of the vehicle to grab the stroller .... and find a big empty spot where the stroller usually sits. J had taken A out last week, so OF COURSE the *&^%$$##@ stroller was still in the back of J's car. Of COURSE I'm now standing out in the rain with a stirring infant and an impatient toddler kicking to be let out of his car seat. No Borders for us, because while I may be a little crazy, I'm NOT crazy enough to let my toddler run wild through a bookstore. And I doubted they'd be cool with me locking him in the bathroom while I shopped. Jerks.
Anyone still with me? Anyone? Bueller?
After all that, the day still turned out okay. I got to Skype with my baby brother in Spain, a very good friend had a very good morning (love you, friend!), and best of all I have two sweet babies and a chance for a do-over tomorrow. And Jason and Molly's wedding is on tonight. AND I have wine. Plus, we all napped, and naps cure all. Best of all, after naps were over, I captured this very sweet moment that made me sure we're all going to be okay after all .... so much love, my heart could just explode ....