In return for my stupidity to publicly declare that I still had my pride, Karma was kind enough to strip me of that privilege. Yesterday was grocery day. Which is kind of a big deal for me, since I HATE leaving the house. I would have been content to starve, or at least let the grocery situation get a little worse, but my children were protesting the lack of choices, LOUDLY. Therefore the babies and I headed off to the store early, about 9:30, just after rush hour, right as Dora was coming on.
We had four separate destinations yesterday. Wally World, our local natural food store, Target, and Whole Foods. There wasn't a great deal I needed from the first store, but the layout makes for quite a journey, not dissimilar to hitting the four corners of the Earth. Then our little food market, that was really just a produce and lunch stop. Hercules was somewhat even tempered until this point. Then Target, as they have the baby formula on sale. By now H was anything but even tempered, he was more like Attila the Hun. I was only mortally embarrassed twice when he threw things out of our cart at other shoppers. However, I was also too tired to put much energy into my humiliation, so we persevered. At Whole Foods, his attitude further deteriorated, even though I would have said it wasn't possible if asked ahead of time. Finally, four and a half hours after we set out on our shopping extravaganza we were done.
H fell asleep on our four minute ride home. I spent an hour hauling groceries indoors. Then the shelving on the side of my laundry room above the washer and dryer fell. I had to move the washer and dryer in order to get the clothes and odds and ends picked up. It was then that I decided that because I had already moved the washer and dryer that I would try to clean out the exhaust vent on the dryer. While I was cleaning the exhaust vent on the dryer, I fell through the floor. Oh, only about a foot, but, WTF????? So, I felt compelled to clean out the hole in the floor. Then I called the landlord. He knew about the hole and was the one to tile over it. Well, duh! Why wasn't I surprised?
So, okay...picture this...every laundry basket I own is in the entry way filled with clothes that had just fallen to the floor. The floor in my laundry room and indeed in the kitchen where I swept a large portion of the mess out into is covered in lint and whatever. There is a huge gaping hole in the laundry room. There are broken shelves. There is an assortment of Valentines Day stuff because it had been stored in the laundry room. Every available surface is covered in groceries and grocery bags because I have just shopped for a family of seven for two weeks. My three school age kids come home and add book bags to the crap on the floor. They get snacks and sit down at the coffee table to eat them because the breakfast bar is covered in groceries. AND THEN THE FRIGGING DOORBELL RINGS.
The first thing I did was beg the children to be quiet and/or play dead so whoever was at the door would leave. The doorbell rang again. I was then forced to go look out the peephole and pray for the Mormons because there is no way I wanted it to be someone I actually knew. Did I find a Mormon? No. I found my grandparents. They popped in for a surprise visit to drop off more Valentines. Shit. Friggity frig. Damn.
I was forced to open the door and invite them in. Their expressions ranged from appalled to pitying. I tried to explain. Really, I did try, but, the doorbell excited the dogs. Who in turn barked. Who in turn woke up H. Who in turn started screaming. Then my grandmother made the mistake of touching TLL, who HATES strangers. She started screaming. I sat down on the floor so that I could hold both crying babies. The screams were deafening, nothing I said was audible over the wailing. They stayed for about an hour. During which time H never stopped crying. TLL would calm down periodically, but start again whenever they looked at her. The children got Valentine cards and a set of walkie-talkies. Of course, they didn't bring any batteries for the walkie-talkies which needed SIXTEEN!!! So, my six year old began sobbing. Then the dog stole my daughter's lollipop bouquet. When my grandparents left, there were four kids in tears. The baby had spit up all over herself. The dog threw up the cellophane lollipop wrapper. My home was in a total shambles, and if I didn't mention that I was in my pj's when they arrived, I meant to. I had an appointment to have their Valentine picture done, which we missed.
I was so emotionally and physically drained by my day that I accomplished next to nothing in terms of damage control last night. In order to have the Valentine portraits done, I am going to have to leave the mess, pick up the big kids from school, get pictures taken. Then I am sure by the time we get home, my grandfather who promised to come back to fix the lock on my door will be here. My house will still be a disaster. My daughter got up FIVE times last night, so I might well be too tired to care. Thankfully I am too tired to cry because I really want to. My husband will be home tonight, he will see the disaster. I'm sure that won't start a fight. Happy Valentine's Day Honey!
Musings from the Big Pink: Dead at 25
15 hours ago