Was It Valentine’s Day or Friday the 13th?

Okay, I’m really not a superstitious person and Friday the 13th is just another day for me, but I have to wonder what happened on Tuesday.

I was supposed to get up early and take my friend’s cat to the vet for an 8:25 drop-off. Bennett kept waking me up all night with nightmares. When I finally got him settled down and got into a nice deep sleep myself, Jeffrey woke me up yelling because of HIS nightmare. I got back to sleep just long enough for my alarm to wake me up out of a dead sleep at 7:00. It was just not possible for me to get up. I reset the alarm for 7:30, thinking I’d still have plenty of time, as I had originally planned on a quick workout. Let’s just say that by the time I took a quick shower, got both boys up and moving, and everyone was dressed, it was 8:20. Amy had already left to take the cat to the vet herself. I sent her a quick email apologizing because I was sure she’d be driving, and I hate to call people when they’re driving if I can help it.

Our homeschool group’s Valentine’s Day party didn’t start until 10, but I needed a couple things from the store anyway, so we set out for Kroger. One of the things I bought was apple cider vinegar. The organic kind. You know, the kind in the glass jar? Yeah, that one.

When we leave Kroger, I see that we can either head to the party location and be 30 minutes early, or we can go home for 10 minutes and head back out. I knew if we came back home, we’d end up being late for the party (not critical, but still…) so we just drove to Jump2It. Where we sat until a couple minutes after 10 waiting for someone with a key to let us in. We were all starting to wonder if we were actually going to have a party after all.

The kids head inside with friends and I opened the front passenger door to get the chips I’d bought at Kroger and guess what was sitting against the door. At least until I opened the door. Yes, the only breakable thing in the car. The glass bottle of apple cider vinegar. Which smells, even on rain-soaked pavement.

We made it through the party and went back home. I always throw my purse and Bennett’s bag in the front passenger seat. His bag is one of those black diaper bags you get from the formula company to take home from the hospital. I keep a couple of pull-ups, a change of clothes (for him), his drawing notebook, and sometimes a couple books for him in it. It’s more a “just in case” bag than a diaper bag these days. The bag had ended up against the door, so when I opened the door, the bag fell out and into the mud. At least it wasn’t my purse. I carried the bag in and wiped all the mud off, leaving the bag hanging in the shower to dry.

Around 5, I left to go pick up the cat. Bennett went with me, and about 10 times before we left, I asked him if he had to go to the bathroom. Of course he didn’t and of course I really should know better by now. Five minutes into our 10-minute drive, he tells me he has to go. At that exact moment, I was sitting at a light behind other cars and couldn’t even get to the Rite-Aid that I could see just ahead. Thirty seconds later, he tells me he’s wet his pants. Obviously, he did have to go before we left or he could have waited more than 30 seconds, but it was a moot point by then. Of course, we didn’t have our “just in case” bag because it was at home drying. I didn’t think we’d need it for a 10-minute drive.

I still had to get out of the car to get the cat. I couldn’t leave the three-year-old in the car alone, so he had to get out, in wet pants, in the cold, so we could get the cat. I told the lady I was there to pick up Martin, and gave the last name. When she handed me the cat carrier, she asked, “Are you going to be able to get him in?” Um, what? He was already in the carrier, so I had no idea what she was talking about. I guess the blank stare gave me away because she asked, “Are you going to be able to get in the house? It’s too cold to leave him outside.” My still-confused response was, “Yeah, I can get in. I live there.” Why would she think I was picking up a cat just to leave him on someone’s porch? Weird.

We head back home and the drive that took us 10 minutes one way, took 30 minutes the other direction. With a wet little boy in the back seat. We came home, got him changed, and I took apart his car seat and washed the cover and the little “piddle pad”, which did nothing at all to keep his seat dry. Guess three-year-olds have too much “piddle”.

Wednesday morning, I got up, blow-dried the seat cover and reassembled the whole mess so we could go to Callaway Gardens. Which is a whole ‘nother post.