It was the stunt that nearly put me over the edge last night on a day that had been nothing but a comedy of mishaps all day... otherwise known as "one of THOSE days."
The fighting and bickering amongst the boys was constant. Nobody, wanted to go hockey camp, maybe even me. Its beens 4 long weeks of car pool in and around road construction, several times a day and nobody was all that anxious to climb in the car again. So because we were already running behind, it was the day the baseball gear was left on the seats in the truck.
I tried everything I could to push it, pull it and drag it to make room for the all the boys and their hockey gear. It took 3 of us, but we got it to budge finally. I was hot and tired. It seemed to follow me the rest of the day.
After an hour of running to Walmart and back and 14 phone conversations about it, I discovered the tension rods I bought for the shower at mom's new apartment... already came installed with her showers... she just didn't notice them. I'm hot, tired and insert crabby here now.
The next call comes when Rick realizes that not only can he not coach Colton's t-ball game, but he can't run Nolan's practice either. With half an hour to spare we had to line up rides for Nolan, coaches to cover, and I had to move the baseball equipment again! I am hot, tired, too tired to be crabby in fact, and now hungry... Enter the FBI... yes really. The coach filling in for Rick is an FBI agent... I mean if you can't count on the FBI, who can you count on?
With Nolan safely to his practice, and Colton with me at his game... I began to think I was home free... which one should really never think...
While I am sitting at Colton's game I get a text from a friend. Nolan is at her house, because he is locked out of our house... hmmmmm... I know I left the door open for him...
But since this is Nolan...
I return home, having just sat through a gale force wind and the most I've had to eat is the sand thrown in our faces from the fields... only to discover when I open the garage door... that by "locked out," Nolan means he not only locked our outside door, but he locked the door leading from the garage to the house... we are screwed. Safe, but screwed.
Grandpa has the only spare key... on his key ring at the lake an hour and a half away. Okay... tired, hungry, hot, gritty, thirsty... and HOMELESS!!
While I am trying to google from my phone "how to break into your house...," hubby enters.
In one fell swoop he loads us all up, gets drive through pizza, brings us home, remembers cold gatorades in the fridge in the garage... and calls a locksmith.
Locksmith guy shows up... in 2.8 seconds and 60 bucks later, has us in our house... I offer him my first born son in trade... literally... he declines...
I am home... I am now grateful, relieved, full of pizza and gatorade, and happy to crawl in to my bed. Sense of humor, fully intact!
Please dear lord, tomorrow we have to move my parents from their home of 44 years, into their new apartment... please let this day have been the challenging day!!