Funny Story

OK, so it's not hugely funny, but it is amusing, for sure. :O)

Yesterday began at 5:45 when I heard the water running for my sister's shower. I got up, had my (weak) cup of coffee, and patiently waited for her to get out so I could get in. I managed to get a 5 minute shower before I had to be ready to leave to drive her to her OB appointment. Long story short, we were on time, and her visit went great. Though we both started receiving calls--during her appointment--from our parents. Thinking someone had died from the frequency of the calls, we called them back as soon as we were free.

Turns out, Mom's emergency was to tell us she needed to pick up a dog from an old friend of hers, all the way in Vancouver. Her plan was to finish her work day (until 6PM) then drive to Vancouver (it's normally a 6 hour drive, though with her lead foot she can make it in 4.5 hours) then drive home, stopping to sleep in her car if she was too tired, to be back at work at 9AM the next morning. Of course my sister and I didn't want her to have a fiery car crash, so we offered to drive down there for her, pick up the dog, and keep it until she had a day off.

Off we went home to cancel our (many) appointments for the day, to clear up our schedules for our new day trip.

In the car we go, three year-old and two very pregnant women. Of course within a few minutes the kid is sleeping and we're having deep conversations all the way there (what? Your deepest conversations don't happen in the car? You should try it!)

So, we get to Vancouver after several potty and snack breaks, stop at the nursing home, and find Gertie--mom's 92 year-old friend--practically in hysterics because she didn't want to give up her dog, but since she couldn't really take care of him she felt she had to. Feeling bad, I made sure there was a nurse there with her when we left, since her (selfish, rude, uncaring) daughters couldn't seem to be there when their mother gave up her dog of the past 11 years. By the way, Regie is a hairless Chinese Crested. Cuteness!

As luck would have it, we ended up crossing into Oregon to Portland so I could quickly stop by Bolt Fabric Boutique, which I've wanted to see but can't seem to justify making the three hour drive for just fabric (my husband soooooo doesn't get it!) Of course they're closed on Mondays.

BUT, I noticed someone inside, so my BRILLIANT sister knocks on the door, and after explaining our situation the LOVELY lady inside let us come inside, stating that while she couldn't actually sell us any fabric since she didn't have the authority, she'd let us look around. It was HEAVEN! So many Japanese and unique fabrics, as well as JALIE patterns and just LOADS of pretties to look at. Sarah even wanted to get into sewing after that (I'm not kidding--she wants to make things for her baby--yey!!!) After I tore myself from the fabric (it was hard, I really, really wanted to buy lots of things) we decided we were hungry (surprise!) so we started to drive back, looking for a coffee shop along the way.

Starbucks found, crisis averted. Though about halfway through our snack, we get another urgent phone call from Mom, telling us to take the dog back, Gertie is hysterical and wants the dog back. Were we in Tacoma yet? No, thankfully we had gone to Portland and taken our sweet time, otherwise I would have had to drive all the way back from home. OK, so we leave the Starbucks, Eamon telling me he DID NOT have to use the potty, Mommy. OK, whatever kid.

Of course, as I'm driving down the freeway, about to take the exit for the nursing home, I hear "I HAVE TO GO POTTY!" from the backseat. Oh God, I can't pull over here, there are cars everywhere, it's rush hour, and OH MY GOD! HOLD IT EAMON, MOMMY'S ALMOST THERE! Sarah's hysterical by now, this is so funny to her. I whip the car around to a parking lot, quickly waddle over to his door, pull him out saying HOLD IT FOR JUST ANOTHER MINUTE HONEY MOMMY'S HURRYING! OK, I get him out, yank down his pants and instruct him to pee on my tire, in the middle of the crowded parking lot. People in cars were looking at us funny so I tried to shield his naked little butt from their view. "But Mommy, I need a big boy potty!" "Too bad kid, just pee." OK, so now he thinks it's hysterical good fun to pee on Mommy's car. But the pants were still dry, so good for us.

On we go to the nursing home. We get there, unload everyone again, let the dog pee, and trek inside. It's dinner time. All the residents are in the dining room, including Gertie. So we walk through the tables, to get her dog to her, and she says, "You can't bring him in here." (Really???) Anyway, she's beyond happy to have her dog back, so we send her off and off we go, to fight rush hour traffic.

By this time we're hungry. The car is out of gas. We're tired. Cranky. We drive all the way to Chehalis, where I remember there's a fabric store I really want to check out. OK, I'm starting to look forward to this, maybe there's a silver lining to this trip after all.

And it was closed.

So on we go looking for a sit-down restaurant so I could let my beast out of the car for a bit, since he's starting to get a bit stir-crazy. Country Cousins it is. We're starving, so we order large meals. And pick at them because neither of us are feeling well at that point. The kid ate part of a roll and some milk. Really?

We finally made it home about 8:30 (after a phone call to my husband, stating that if he didn't take his monster child so I could go to bed I was going to pop out a baby TONIGHT.) Of course he agrees, and even installs a window fan in my sister's room so she can have cool air at night. I'm lying in bed, thankful to be home, when I start hearing shouts and loud banging sounds from downstairs. What the hell?

Not able to move well because of the nonstop contractions, I'm sitting up in bed, yelling "What's going on?" More loud banging noises from downstairs. "I'm starting to get worried, trying to haul my large belly out of bed, when my husband comes up and says, "I think you need to take me to the ER, I think I broke my finger." Oh God, really??? I look at the finger, asking him if he can move it. He moves it, big sigh of relief. OK, it's bleeding, but no stitches needed. "OK honey, it's not that I don't empathize with you, but I AM NOT taking you to the ER for that." Take some Tylenol, keep it on the ice, and we'll reevaluate in the morning.

And that was the end of my day. Finally.