A Comedy of Errors

My day has been an absolute comedy of errors.  It's so bad, I'm just going to share it, and hope someone can find some humor in it.

We woke up early this morning so I planned to go to the Y before going to our friend Tanya's house for a snowman playdate.  It's 70 degrees outside, so I dressed Sammy in pants and flip flops, the usual Texas winter clothing.  When we got to the Y, he insisted on opening the door himself, and ended up swiping the door down the side of his foot and cutting it.

From the way he responded, you might think he must have amputated his foot, but it was just a little scratch.  He immediately threw himself on the ground in front of the door, so no one could come in the door, and no one could get out the door.  I was stuck standing there, helpless, holding Sophia, her diaper bag, and my gym bag.  Some kind soul held the door open while I dragged him through, and I had finally gotten him calmed down when he noticed the blood.  Crisis NOT averted.

I sat him on the bench, and was trying to calm him down by telling him I'd get him a bandaid.  He didn't want a bandaid, but there was no way I was sending him into ChildWatch with blood spurting everywhere.  Finally I just put the bandaid on him.  Again, you'd think I'd whopped him upside the head with a baseball bat from his reaction.  Everyone who walked in the door was giving me the "you are a bad parent" look, and all I could do was try not to laugh. 

Finally, my high school friend Annecca took Sophia into the baby room, and I tried to get Sammy into his classroom.  He continued his fit in there.  Eventually one of the teachers took Sammy and told me if they couldn't get him to calm down in 15 minutes they'd come get me.

I checked on Sophia, then collapsed, gratefully, into the silence and serenity of my iPod and the elliptical trainer.  With 3 minutes left to go in my workout, Annecca showed up with the white board.  The white board strikes fear into the heart of many a mother at the Y.  When your child needs you (aka they've been screaming for over 15 minutes), they write your name on the white board and walk around with it.  Every time I see the white board I cringe, hoping and praying it's not my little angel causing a ruckus, and it never has been.  Until today.

I just knew it would be Sammy, but turns out it was Sophia.  She was being her usual drama queen self in the baby room - insisting on being held.  Normally it's not a big deal for them, but there were so many babies in there at that time that they couldn't do it.  I was totally sweaty and stinky - didn't even have a chance to change.  After collecting Sophia, I asked them to bring Sammy out, and here comes drama king . . .

He walks out barefoot, hobbling and limping on his "injury."  AKA his scrape.  Ridiculous.  He refused to wear a shoe on the injured foot, and made me carry him to the truck.  There I am in the parking lot at the Y, carrying an almost 4 year old, an 8 month old, a diaper bag, and my gym bag.  Sweating like a pig.  Are you kidding me? 

Everyone kept stopping to ask if I needed help.  No thanks - I can make an ass of myself all on my own.  And halfway there the bandaid fell off, so Sammy begins to scream that I am walking too fast and making his foot hurt again.  Arrgghhh!!!

I forgot the best part about Sammy coming out of Childwatch at the Y.  They had been painting, and Miss Bridget told me Sammy decided to paint his fingernails with the blue paint.  So his fingertips are all blue.  As is both nostrils and the end of his nose.  Pick your nose much, kiddo?

I almost called Tanya to tell her we weren't coming, but I figured the day couldn't get much worse, so why not give it a try.  Except for the fact that I stunk.  Plus I needed to change.  I was wearing a sports bra, so while sitting at the stoplight at 99 and Westheimer Parkway I took my shirt off, and reached into Sophia's diaper bag to grab a baby wipe.  I was wiping my arm pits with it when I looked over and noticed the garbage truck next to me with the garbage men checking me out.  How 'bout them apples?

Needless to say I hit the gas as soon as the light turned green.  I finished changing in Tanya's front yard.  Hopefully her neighbors don't think I'm homeless. 

So there you have it, folks.  Sammy's injury has continued to proliferate.  He is still hobbling around like an invalid, and he refuses to get in the bathtub and take a bath.  Sammy, I love you honey, but you look like a weirdo and you stink.  Real nice, kiddo.  Good thing we're going to the park in the morning . . .