The highs and lows of the past 24 hours:
High: My mom watches Graham so I can spend 2 hours at Target by myself. Can’t find much on my list, but still… TWO HOURS BY MYSELF. Then we meet for Violet’s Christmas program. Her class is brain-crushingly cute, but kind of looses focus after about three songs. The kids are all trying to take off their Christmas outfits or play with the baby Jesus doll on the stage. Violet hikes up her tights and makes fish faces most of the time.
Low: I run out of batteries in the digital camera AND tape in the video camera. (Later I discover I actually DID have these items in their carrying case, had I only thought to look.)
High: I realize that not having batteries or tape in the cameras forced me to actually watch the performance rather than frantically record it for posterity. After school, both kids take simultaneous afternoon naps for the first time in weeks.
Low: Giddy from the afternoon nap victory I decide to pack up the kids and head down to The Trail of Lights. The plan is to meet Rob there with dinner before they close the road to cars. Of course I arrive just as they are putting up the barricades and am forced to turn the car around. Poor Rob has to listen to a shrieking daughter (I WANNA GO SEE THE LIIIIIIIIIIGHTS! GO BAAAACK!!) and a shrill wife while trying to coordinate cars and directions. The plan to meet at a playground is nearly thwarted because I get lost on the way there.
High: I finally get my bearings, ending our HOUR long car ride. Violet says, “Are we at the freakin’ playground yet?” Everything is pitch black at the park until a group of tennis players turn on the court lights. So we are able to see our burgers enough to eat and, as Violet says, “play in the night!”.
Low: Violet wakes up with a low fever and red crusty eyes. I cancel playgroup and call the doctor. We head in after Graham’s nap. She has pink-eye and something black in her ear. I discover that Violet is stronger than me, the doctor and three nurses combined. Nothing we do can remove “the thing”. She is glued to me, shaking and sobbing and hyperventilating and screaming “I don’t want anyone to check me anymore! I wanna go hooooome!” Eons later, we’re done and I’m armed with a file folder of prescriptions and directions for inflicting more medical torture upon my daughter for the next week. In the parking lot I finally get the kids in the car, but the stroller will not fold up. Not. At all. I’m cursing and muttering under my breath and slamming the thing on the ground. No amount of violence or finesse will collapse the behemoth. And it won’t fit in the car unfolded. Graham is moaning in hunger and a doctor-traumatized Violet is calling, “Mommy? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
The stroller is now sitting in the parking lot of ADC Children’s Clinic.
High: The kids are actually both at stages where we can sit in a restaurant for a (short) meal. I’m taking advantage while I can. I tell Violet we’re going to IHOP for lunch. She says, “Will they fix my eye at Eye-Hop?”
Low: I trip on the concrete steps to the restaurant door while holding Graham. This is exactly what happens in a reoccurring vision that I can’t seem to scrub out of my brain. But I manage to catch myself with my left arm while gripping Graham hard enough with my right so he doesn’t smack his head on the cement. He didn’t like the tiny whiplash, but is totally fine. I, however, land in such a way that my pants pull down just enough to make any plumber proud. The construction workers behind me were more amused than helpful. I was shaking so bad with the near miss I just didn’t care.
High: The staff at IHOP were so nice, having seen the whole thing. They doted on us. Both kids were angels. Violet actually ate real food. And now they’re both sleeping again. Which is why I am enjoying my cup of tea on the sofa and will not move until they wake up.