Woven and Spun

I usually never post twice in one day – lately, I’m actually lucky to post twice in one month, but I had to get down the experience of this day. It started off very well, which should have been an immediate indication that something harrowing was right around the corner. I, however, skipped about in blissful naivete…until it all unraveled.

During the school year, I am/will be babysitting for a friend who has a six month old little girl. It helps them out and us out, and it gives Drew a chance to try out the sibling experience. Right now, he’s not doing so well…but I’ll save that for another post.

Anyway, back to my harrowing tale -

Both babies took a gorgeous two and a half hour nap this AM, so I figured they would be well rested and happy to take a quick jaunt to the store. Although going out with two is much more difficult than just one, I’ve determined to occasionally attempt it in order to maintain my sanity, give them a change of scene, and to practice before any potential offspring arrive. So, we headed to Toys R Us to pick up a few things for the Birthday Boy (Drew turns one tomorrow!).

Shopping went fairly well, even though I couldn’t decide between some things. I solved that dilemma quickly by just purchasing all conflicting items. It was the obvious thing to do…of course. When we hit the checkout line…bad things began. One cashier open, three people in line all being held up by one couple arguing over a sale. Is there a manager in the house?? The poor cashier called for one three times before someone finally responded. During this time, Drew tried to push little Ana out of the shopping cart – what a good big brother he’ll be someday, don’t you think?

I grabbed him quickly while the woman in front of me checked out. Then it was my turn. Ana was in her infant carrier in the back of the cart. The toys were piled below, and my diaper bag with wallet was below Ana – and Drew was in my arms. Thus began a juggling act worthy of Barnum and Bailey’s, complete with a briefly misplaced wallet and price check on a set of plastic construction trucks. Finally rung up and loaded, I headed for the door only to discover that Tropical Storm Faye-that-won’t-go-Away had chosen to drop another lovely rain band on our area. Just perfect – Ana ended up getting only a little wet, Drew slightly damp, the gifts would need some drying off, and I…well, I needed a change of clothes.

In the car, I checked the receipt and realized that two items had rung up wrong even though I had pointed it out to the cashier as she was ringing them up. She had said, “Oh yeah, you’re right.” But she never changed a thing. Oh the agony of that internal debate – face Faye again while hauling merchandise and two infants or eat the overcharge. Looking at the already high total, and imagining my husband’s expression when he saw it, I knew I had to go back. Ugghhh – I tromped in and a mere twenty minutes later, I deposited our soggy selves back in the car.

At home, I pulled into the (unconnected) garage while trying to formulate my exit strategy. Both kids were ready to go straight down for their PM nap, so I decided to take Drew, who was still awake, in to bed first and then come back quickly for Ana. Our garage smelled like gas fumes from the supplies we had ready in case Faye wiped out our electricity, so I didn’t want to leave Ana there for long. We went swiftly in and up to bed, but just as I was laying Drew down, I heard an awful noise…and then I felt it on my arm…and then I smelled it. He had just vomited what looked like his whole lunch (thus, the now grotesque title of this post). Never in his entire human existence has he ever done that. No, he’s been saving it all up for today. So, brief recap – Ana in the car, fumes in the garage, Faye outside, and vomit boy in my arms. Nothing to panic about – AHHHHH!!

I ripped Drew’s clothes off, wiped him down, dropped the poor boy in his bed, and ran to rescue Ana. She was completely fine, sleeping blissfully, but woke up when carried through the rain to the house. With her down for a nap, I tackled the carpet in the bathroom which had taken a hit when I pulled off Drew’s clothes, and then noted that once again, I desperately needed a change of clothes. I scrubbed myself down, changed my clothes, threw all offensive materials in the washing machine, and and sat down to write this post. Because, how could a day like this possibly go undocumented…

Drew and I often play the “Where is it?” game where one of us will hide something, and then I put both hands up and say, “Where is __________?”  Then with a big grin, he ‘finds’ whatever was missing.  Yesterday, he was sitting in his high chair eating lunch while I worked on the computer in the kitchen.  It was one of those wonderful days when Dr. Daddy was home all day – Drew loves those days and so do I.  Dr. Daddy had just gone upstairs to shower.  As I looked over at Drew, he put both hands in the air and said, “Deah, Daee?” with obvious inquisitive inflection in his voice.  And he waited patiently in that posture while I picked my jaw up off the floor.  After the shock subsided, I said, “Daddy went upstairs.”  Satisfied with my answer, the little man went back to eating his lunch as if our little exchange was the most natural thing in the world.  He never ceases to amaze me.