Subtitled: Sweet god I made it home.
Let me pre-apologize to any of my blog readers who may be public banana eaters, more on that to come.
There was noon dismissal for my son’s Kindergarten due to the impending storm so I loaded up my tired little guy for what would normally be his nap time and headed to the school. I dazzled him with a mommy opera in the hopes of keeping him up but he feel asleep moments from the school. I dragged him out of the car and he sleep walked into the school. Not too bad at this point, I was still a smiling functioning human. I will admit that my story cracks in part, due to my own poor planning. I figured I better get a couple of errands done before the monster snow storm barreled down on us. I ran to the frame shop to get their advice and/or help in packaging two vintage prints someone ordered from my shop. I usually send out orders straight away but I was intimidated by the fragile glass. I double bubbled it and taped cardboard all around and then at the shop the kindest woman busted out the serious frame box and helped me out in a BIG way. Ok, that’s the boring part (I’m afraid it all might fall into that category but I will soldier on). I tell you about it only go give you a sense of time passing. Time passing ever so slowly with two tired and hungry kiddos in tow. So then we went to the 5&10 to get an ice scrapper and a rubber chicken. We then walked to the Post Office, guess we weren’t the only ones thinking of mailing out packages before the storm. Apparently there is some holiday coming up or something. 45 minutes. 45 minutes! I kept chanting in my head, “Oh my god, I’m the mom with THOSE kids”. I am the mom who has 2 boys wrestling and “torturing” a rubber chicken on the floor of the tiny and crowded post office. The kind of mom I would have so smugly look down upon not too long ago. The last straw was when my 2 1/2 year old threw the rubber chicken and hit someone in line. If you know my 2 1/2 year old you’ll know he’s got an arm. More than one person has gotten a face full of ball after leaning down close to him in anticipation of a baby-sized throw. Oh, and then to make it all more rich and enjoyable, the woman in front of me (not a believer in personal space), reached over to grab my package from me and tried to untangle my packing tape. I said,” No thanks, I got it!” but she wouldn’t stop. I swear to you I said, “Unhand my package woman.” and yet still, she continued. She went from being a harmless crunchy older woman to deranged at that point. And then, then – she took out a freaking banana, peeled it and ate it. Oh so close to me and my nose. I swear I almost lost what was left of my marbles. I think if we looked up the social contract for crowded lines at the post office it would say somewhere that eating a banana in that situation is in poor taste, I can not even type about the peel. Not sure, but it may or may not also mention the etiquette for a rubber chicken beat down. Anyhoo, by the time we left the snow was falling and my blood pressure was rising.
Here is the chicken my oldest decided should have a tattoo that reads, “Chickens for Obama”.
And now the snow is pouring down and piling up. Here is view from my front window.
I am about to take a toasty shower, put on my warmest robe, grab a bottle of wine, curl up on the sofa with my videos and CHILL.