First of all...my children's web speak has totally corrupted my lil brain. So forgive me if at times I sound more hip than I have any right to be at my old age.
Well. Guess how much of my Monday list I accomplished?
I got dressed.
Hah. It seems like the universe is conspiring against me. Or I am. Perhaps a little bit of both...
I sleep in. Bad, bad way to start the day. Reed asks me if I need the car and want to take him to work. (We are juggling one car with three jobs and four children's summer activities.)
I get up..check my phone...sweet Kara had texted me to see when we were meeting.
I haven't seen her forever and we have so much in common...I have to make it work. So I text my poor spouse and asked if he'd consider bringing the car home at lunch so I could drop him back off at work and meet Kara.
He said yes. What a guy!
So...he gets me, I drop him off, and head down south. However, I have the wrong exit number and drive 20 minutes past where I need to be before I realize it.
I turned around, and meet my friend 30 minutes late.
After a delicious Five Guys burger...we go to a park so her kids could play and we could chat.
And I get a phone call.
"This is Maria and I wondered if your boys are on their way to dance."
"It's Monday, right? Isn't dance on Tuesday?"
"Well, we couldn't meet last Thursday to finish the formations because too many kids couldn't be there."
And it hits me. Three of my four children have their Dance Concert. TONIGHT.
And I, I am 40 minutes from home....and have no idea where their costumes are, or if they are even clean.
So I call the spouse, who on this day shall be dubed "The Saint", and ask him to please see if his parents can get the kids to practice...and tell him I am heading home.
I get home...start on lil bug's hair...and oldest child informs me that the boys didn't find their costumes before they got picked up. Really.
So The Saint digs through the dungeon that passes for the boys room and finds what they need.
And it's dirty.
The Saint runs downstairs to throw them in the wash and gets a call. The boys don't have a ride from practice to the performance venue after all..and he needs to go take them there.
Murphy has NOTHING on me today, baby.
I sit down to the comp for a minute and get sidetracked in a conversation about ADD. The Saint finally gets back home and says:
"Did you put the costumes in the dryer?"
We both head for the basement while arguing who should have made sure that had happened (yes, probably me, but to be fair I thought he would have asked the oldest child to listen for when they were done washing and switch them since her bedroom is right there.)
One hour till SHOWTIME.
Clothes in dryer...grumpy parents...Oldest decides to FINALLY take a shower. She then retreats back into her room where she has spent 80% of the day.
Thirty minutes till showtime..the clothes are "damp dry" but we can't possibly wait any longer. I pull them out and start ushering the rest of the family to the car. And there we sit...three of the four of us.
I run into the house and yell for oldest child. She is SO in the doghouse!
She comes upstairs with WET HAIR and yelling that she'll be right there...if I want her to come BAREFOOT.
Fifteen minutes till showtime. Grumpy mommy, grumpy daddy, hungry bug and petulant teen all make it to the car.
We arrive at the venue...at the time the show is supposed to start....and run the boys clothes to them. Fortunately the dance school is notorious for late starts and this night is no different. I am madly hoping that this time it's not our fault.
Lots of music and lots of dancing later we all head home exhausted.
And I have checked one thing...ONE...off of my list.
I got dressed.
Here's hoping for a better day tomorrow.