Friday, September 12, 2008

Some Days are Like That...


As a child, I read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, until the the cover was thoroughly worn... frayed and torn around the edges. I knew the details of the cross-hatched, pen and ink drawings and the cleverly told turmoil of the main character by heart. Judith Viorst's modern classic genuinely captures the very essence of a bad day through a little boy's disgruntled eyes.


As a kid, I thought I'd grow out of these "terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days." I was wrong about that. Some days I still want to move to Australia.

Wednesday, I woke up groggy from a staying up too late the night before. Patrick said his goodbyes and hopped out the door to go to work a bit early. Joshua and I spent some time in the Word and then grumpy Jason woke up, in all his foot-stomping, whining glory. "Hmm, I wonder how this day will go," I thought.
At 8:15 am Josh skipped out the front door on his way to carpool. "I'll pick you up this afternoon! (This is an important detail for later.) I love you!" I called out the door into the chilly morning air. "Ok," he said, "I love you, too."

Jason and I did a few chores and then got ready to go on a few errands. Jason did not want to sit in his own seat, he wanted to sit in a "regular" seat. There are lots of battles every day... this one is worth fighting. I won. He sat in his car seat, and with great discontentment I might add.


We got to the store and Jason decided he wanted a super cool diecast airplane. Uh, oh. I forgot to warn him that this was not a toy buying excursion. "We have a plane in the car... a Transformer, even!" I exclaimed. "That's Josh's plane," he cried, stomping and frowning all the way down the sidewalk.

By the time we'd done a few errands, we were hungry, so I bought him a hamburger as a treat. He didn't want the hamburger... hamburgers, apparently, are yucky. He wanted M&M's.


At the grocery store, he got a special "car" cart to drive around while I shopped. Only, he didn't want to stay in the car, he wanted to precariously perch himself atop the car and proclaim his high state in Tarzan form. Have I mentioned Jason is part monkey? He was climbing on my kitchen table and swinging from the chandelier at 10 months... before he could even walk.


On to pick up Josh from school. We waited and waited in the line of idling cars, but Josh and our neighbor Cici never came. Jason had fallen asleep, so I woke him up and carried his limp body up to the playground only to find Cici crying and confused. Josh was not with her, and she thought maybe it was a "bus" day and she'd forgotten. As I consoled her, a wave of panic rushed over me, realizing that Josh was not in the immediate vicinity. We checked the campus, the office, the book fair, and called his name, but didn't receive an answer. The kids and I prayed for his protection and then waited to hear from my neighbor... was he on the bus?


Remember the scene from Princess Bride when Wesley is in the "torture tree" and the six fingered man... or was it Prince Humperdink, turns up the torture device and takes years off Wesley's life? I'm pretty sure I lost at least a year and a half during the missing Josh incident of 2008. I'll end the suspense... he was on the bus. Praise God.


A couple hours later...


This part is gross... but not as disgusting as what happened later. I was making dinner and I heard some gagging sounds. "I just threw up!" Jason announced. Of course you did... all over your shirt and couch. It is completely amazing to me that children can throw up and then go outside and play 2 minutes later. When I throw up it is always in the middle of the night and I have to pitch a tent in the bathroom.


Back to School night was on the schedule for the evening. Patrick and the boys dropped me off, because the parking situation on these nights is horrendous. After the teacher shared, I stayed after to ask a couple questions about an upcoming field trip. On my way back to the van, Patrick came storming down the corridor holding Jason's hand high in the air and Josh skipping behind announcing, "Jason pooed his pants."


It was on his shirt, all over his pants, running down his legs... oh, and in the van, too. He got stripped down and cleaned off in the shadows of the sleeping school and then ran back to the van in nothing but his birthday suit and a big grin, singing silly songs.


My body was feeling pretty weary at this point... remember I had lost a year and a half of my life earlier. After bathing Jason, cleaning out his clothes, sterilizing the bathroom and doing a load of laundry, I finally turned in.


Some days are like that... even in Australia. Have you ever had one?

3 comments:

Sandy said...

Oh my gosh. OH MY GOSH. I'm laughing, but I know it wasn't at all funny at the time. Give yourself 30 or 40 years and you'll laugh, too. I can barely remember the days like that anymore, at least not all the gory details.

I remember the night you and Patrick told your dad and me that you were expecting Josh. I said, "Your lives will be changed forever." Patrick smiled and said, "For the good, right?" I smiled back, because of course he was right, but I was also thinking about days like your Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." No parent escapes them, that's how we earn our silver hair.

Glad you survived. :o) I love you.

Denise said...

what a day!

this reminded me of when my noah was 3 and would have a bad day, he would tell me he wanted to move to Australia. it was so cute.

jeninslo said...

The visual pictures you create are simultaneously horrific and hilarious. What a day!

I *still* call my mom and tell her I'm moving to Australia. I thought of your blog today, because after my afternoon, I'm definitely moving.

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