A Comedy of Errors

Note: This kind of morning happens more often than not, but I just chose to write about today's events while they were still fresh in my head. :-)

This morning I needed to go to south Austin to pick up my race packet for a 10k I'm running tomorrow morning. The kids and I stayed home almost every morning this week, so I thought they would both be happy to go somewhere new.

Right off the bat, things started to go wrong. Buttercup choked during breakfast and vomited. Oliver spilled milk all over his crab PJs (which, if you don't know, is pretty much the end of the world for him). I got the kids cleaned up, and started cleaning up the kitchen. Then I mentioned to Oliver that we were going to a running store to pick up my race packet. And then things really started to go downhill. Oliver was whining, "But I don't want to go to a running store! I want to stay home!" Buttercup was screaming because she wanted to wear pants, no she didn't want to wear pants, yes she did want to wear pants, no she DIDN'T want to wear pants, yes she DID WANT TO WEAR PANTS!!! And the poor cat was endlessly meowing because she wanted canned food, but I fed her the last can yesterday. Oi!

So I got myself dressed, threw some snacks together for the kids, dressed the kids as fast as possible, and we left the house. Never mind that it was 8:30 and the running store didn't open until 10:00, it was time to get out of the house! Since we had so much time to spare, we made a stop at Target to get cat food and also spent about 30 minutes on the toy aisles, playing with the different toys. Buttercup refused to get back in the cart after playing, so I held her while we went through the checkout and paid for our stuff.

"Oliver, do you need to potty?" "Nope!"

We walked out of the store, I was still holding Buttercup and pushing the cart, and Oliver was holding onto my pants pocket because I didn't have an extra hand for him to hold. Then we stepped out into the parking lot, and Oliver started galloping. While holding onto my pocket. And my pants are a little bit loose. Can you see where this is going? Yep, that's right, my pants slid halfway down my behind before I could get them up. Guess this is why you should always wear underwear?

We got to the car. I loaded our stuff in, while holding Buttercup. I opened Buttercup's door to put her in, and she started screaming bloody murder. I had just gotten her buckled in -- still screaming and flailing and trying to bite me -- when Oliver said, "I have to poo!" Okay. I was actually kind of relieved, because Buttercup was definitely happier (and quieter!) out of her seat.

We made it back inside the store, and took 2 steps forward. "I don't have to potty anymore." Sorry, kiddo, you're going to potty.

In the bathroom, Oliver wanted his privacy and didn't want me to help him in the stall. "Are you sure you don't need help?" "I'm sure! I can do it myself!" I was standing outside his stall door while Buttercup wandered around the bathroom. She found a wad of toilet paper on the floor and, before I could stop her, wiped her nose with it. Oh, lovely.

Oliver was awfully quiet in his stall. "Do you need help?" "Nope!"

Then a minute later, "Mom, I need some help, please!"

Five minutes later, we were back in the parking lot. Fortunately, Buttercup was much happier getting into her seat this time! I handed out snacks, and the kids ate while I drove us out of the parking lot and got back on the interstate to head to the running store. I plugged the running store address into my handy dandy TomTom, and I am happy to say that I did not get lost once!

We made it to the running store at 10:15, walked right in and picked up my race packet. It was a nice, sunny morning, so we walked around the shopping center for about 30 minutes. I remember thinking, "Good, it's only 10:45, we'll have plenty of time to get home and play before lunch." Ha, famous last words!

I needed to change Buttercup's diaper before we drove home, but none of the nearby stores or restaurants were open, and the running store didn't have a changing table in the restroom. So I changed her diaper on the front seat of the car. I asked Oliver to sit or stand on the curb while I was busy. He chose to sit, and I could see the top of his head, so I knew he was okay. But he was awfully quiet. I leaned my head back until I could see what he was doing -- he was running both hands over the front wheel of the car, and now both of his hands were black with dirt and who knows what else. I finished up with Buttercup, and right then Oliver announced that he had to pee. Fine with me, because then he could wash his hands before heading home.

We headed back into the running store, and I steered Oliver straight to the back of the store. We had to dodge long lines of people waiting to get their race packets. We got to the restroom door, and Oliver stopped for a minute to talk to a policeman waiting outside. The policeman held out his hand for Oliver, and Oliver gave him a high five with one hand, then reached out with his other hand to touch the policeman's uniform and smeared black dirt on his pants. Sigh.

We got inside the bathroom, and Oliver needed privacy in his stall again. But this time Buttercup decided she wanted to go in. She and Oliver fought over the door until I finally got her interested in something else. When Oliver came back out, I helped him wash his hands to get all of the dirt off. While I was busy helping him, Buttercup was pulling toilet paper off of the roll and stuffing it into the toilet and trash can. I left Oliver to dry his hands by himself and shooed Buttercup out of the stall. But as she backed away from the stall door, she decided to close it and smashed her fingers in the process. :-( She screamed and screamed, and it was about 50 times louder and shriller than usual because of the acoustics in the bathroom! Oliver started hollering at Buttercup because she was hurting his ears, which made Buttercup scream louder, which made Oliver yell louder, etc. And all of this was happening in the tiny bathroom in the running store, where there were about 100 people waiting to pick up their race packets. Needless to say, I was sweating by the time.

I got the kids calmed down, and we walked out of the restroom. Almost everyone in the store was staring at us. I thought, "Whew, now we can just go home!" Nope, sorry! Oliver was behind me, and I held the heavy bathroom door open for him to walk through. The policeman told Oliver "hi" again, and Oliver looked up at the policeman, and I looked at Oliver, and . . . then the heavy door closed on Oliver's fingers. Poor kiddo! It looked so bad, too. And he screamed and cried, and I picked him up and somehow got the heavy door open again, and carried him and Buttercup back into the bathroom. He refused to let me look at his fingers or run cold water over them, so I grabbed a paper towel and wet it to hold against his hand. He was still screaming, but was starting to calm down and then he let me look at his fingers. Then the policeman knocked on the door to see if he could help. When I opened the door, Oliver started screaming again, so I figured that he was probably more embarrassed than hurt, and that we should just make a break for it and head home before something else happened.

I had one kid on each hip and race-walked past all of the people and out of the store, into the parking lot, and strapped the kids in their car seats as quickly as I could. Buttercup started screaming again, Oliver was moping in his seat, and I was sweating profusely.

Maybe next time we should just stay home. ;-)