Thursday, December 07, 2006

Blood Spilled At The Target

Last Friday on the way home from picking up K we stopped off at the Super Target to pick up a few things for K’s trip to Colorado. I parked and people started getting out of the car, then my ever so graceful offspring Super Girl proceeded to slam her finger in the car door. Oh great. There was crying. And there was blood. There was one 7 year old little girl screaming “It’s BLEEDING! It’s BLEEDING!” and then there was me. The mom. I told my wee person to CALM DOWN NOW, and surprisingly she did as K followed my directions to find a paper towel in the car. (at this point some nosy old lady in the parking lot started asking if we needed help – I think just trying to see what was going on really – and I told her firmly no, that I was handling my business). Since the screaming had stopped, we headed to the Super Target where in I asked the security guard where the snack bar was so I could get a cup of ice for Super Girl to stick her finger in, then we headed to the bathroom for clean up and assessment. Things looked okay except for the cut on her finger which extended all the way across her fingernail. Ew.

When we came out of the restroom to meet up with K and Cabbage Patch, the helpful security guard was there asking if anything happened in the parking lot that he should know about and then he said something about someone having been bit by a dog earlier. Um, no, just a car door.

I made Super Girl keep her finger in the cup of ice as we shopped – she got a bag of Gummi Bears to help her healing and for pain management (hey, Mary Poppins said a spoonful of sugar helps medicine go down. I figure a bag of candy can help the pain go way for a painful injury, a whole cake for a broken limb and probably a case of Hershey bars for a dismemberment.) Things were good, she got candy and she knew she’d get band aids too.

Later I pointed out to K that this was the second of our two progeny to have their fingers injured and bleeding on a shopping trip involving him being on watch. He denied such charges and said he did not cause the injuries in question. I asserted that though he had not in fact injured either of the beings that I had nurtured in my body for 9 months and birthed, he was in fact in the vicinity when both of them bloodied their tiny fingers therefore it is his fault. He conceded that I was mostly right.

So boys and girls, the lesson here is that you should not shop with K! You might lose a finger!

PS the kid is fine now.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Now How Does That Go? Specticals... Testicals... Wallet...

Due to my recent breakage of my glasses, I was forced to get some stylish new glasses. I wanted something that was funny and would stand out - sadly the didn't have any rhinstoned cats eye frames. Darn it. Now I can see and I look good doing it ;)
Snow (ice) Day In Dallas And Why Holiday Parades SUCK

Thursday morning I woke to terribly cold weather and the promise that it would only get worse. After a near panic attack at the thought of driving home in sleet and ice (and a few flash backs from my 2001 spin out on ice that totaled my tiny car) I decided to stay home, drink cocoa and watch DVD’s with my offspring. Even though school wasn’t closed that day, my mental issues dictated that they get a day off. I figured it was better than me envisioning their school bus sliding off the highway on the way home, crashing into a recently overturned semi carrying gasoline and bursting into flames. PTSD is fun! (Therapy isn’t for me folks – I prefer to live in denial and develop additions to deal with my issues.)

Now before you start calling me a pussy for not driving in that weather or saying that the roads weren’t that bad, take into consideration that all except maybe 5 years of my life have been spent in the non snowing Southern areas. Hell I was born in Louisiana, spent my formative childhood years in Southern Louisiana where the only kind of ice they regularly encounter is in a drink glass surrounded by a tasty alcoholic beverage where the only danger of slippage from is if you drink too much of the alcoholic beverage. I prefer it in my glass and not on the roads, so cut me some slack.

The highlight of that day was copious amounts of hot alcohol infused cocoa and long naps. Oh yes there was that nasty little event of my boss calling me and giving me shit for not going in which ended with me telling her that some gawddamn’d $6 an hour job isn’t worth getting caught in the weather while driving home – then hanging up on her. I’m sure it was a surprise to her that the hospital didn’t implode from my not showing up and they were completely fine with me not being there.

Friday was interesting at work, very busy, ‘nuf said.

I rushed home to get Cabbage Patch as her Daisy Scout troop was supposed to march in the local Christmas Parade. The plans changed a few times on Thursday and early Friday as to where we were supposed to meet. Originally the plan was to meet at the leaders house at 5:10 pm, then it changed to meeting ‘somewhere downtown’ as the leader might not be able to be there, to ‘we’ll meet at 5:30 pm downtown’ and finally ‘let’s meet at 5:30 pm at the Londoner in the town square.’ This seemed fairly straight forward and easy as I knew exactly where the Londoner is (I know it’s a shock, right). We left our abode at 5:20 pm as the Londoner is less than 10 minutes from my doorstep. I was feeling confident in my plan… there for it was doomed! Doomed I tell you! Anytime I feel confident in something involving directions, it’s a BAD sign.

Everything was proceeding along well until we were within 3 blocks of our destination, then I could see signs of trouble… actually signs of DETOUR! The street that the Londoner was on was being CLOSED OFF for the parade. YIKES! The ONLY way I knew to get to this damn place was being closed off and I was being diverted into foreign territory! Dear Gawd, we’d be lost forever! Not only was I being diverted, but I was being diverted onto a street full of SLOW MOVING traffic. COME ON PEOPLE! I drive a STANDARD for fucks sake! I had already endured my quota of slow moving traffic and constant clutching for one day, my damn clutch foot was threatening to CRAMP up on me. And I was starting to get BITCHY (say it isn’t so)! I told the offspring the prospects of parade marching were slim due to their mother’s horrible direction sense and someone’s stupid idea to meet in the middle of parade central RIGHT when the streets were being blocked off.

Eventually we inched out way to what looked to be a blocked off street – a DEAD END! With some official looking person standing there pointing in different directions when anyone asked him questions. I pulled my car up to him and explained the issue at hand. The man looked at me, then looked at his crumpled piece of paper in his hand and then asked me a question I should know the answer to but I don’t. It all came out in slow motion to me, just to punctuate my absolute lack of preparation and suck ass mothering skills for this area. He said “What troop number?” and I said “Uhhhhhhhh….” He said there were 4 different GS troops (some Daisy Girls, some Brownies) and he couldn’t direct me to the right place unless I knew the number. I racked my brain and got a busy signal. This sucked! First I can’t get to the Londoner now I can’t even remember the damn troop number! Fine, fine, fine. I just asked the man the easiest way OUT of the area before my head exploded and he did what he does best, he pointed me in a direction.

I told my progeny that we weren’t going to be doing this and it was nearly time to go fetch their father from work so that’s where we would be headed … or something like that, it may have been more like “Muther fuck! First I can’t get to the goddamned Londoner because all the fucking streets are blocked off and I don’t know my fucking way around a city I’ve lived in for 8 fucking years! NOW I don’t know the damned troop number. Fine. Just fuck it all! It’s to damn cold to march anyway. AND I’m going to be late to pick up K because I don’t have a goddamned clue where the hell I am! Fuck!” (Give or take a few FUCKs)

And about that time as I inched along yet another traffic packed street, the clouds parted and the angels began to sing. A celestial light shone from above, illuminating a destination up ahead. By some miracle, I RECOGNIZED WHERE WE WERE! We were right NEXT to the Londoner and we were only 7 minutes LATE! I parked the car quickly and ushered the fruit of my loins out of the car and off to stand in front of the Londoner. I saw no other little girls. We waited a few minutes. I looked around and watched for what might look like girls in the troop. Nothing. I peaked into the bar and didn’t see any tiny children (thank goodness!). I looked around and saw something frightening. A barricade! Headed for the street I was parked on! Blocking off the street in the only direction it goes! SHIT! Waiting time was over. It was 5:45 pm and I didn’t want to get stuck in the town square with the Tiny Terrorist until 8 pm making K wait at work that whole time. Oh no. not going to happen. I told them the marching wasn’t happening and we had to go NOW! I practically threw the Tiny Terrorists into the car and leapt into the car the whole while Super Girl is BAWLING about not being able to see sister march in the parade. Cabbage Patch on the other hand doesn’t give two shits and is talking to the birds outside. WTF?

We escape the square just as the barricade is being shoved across the street. Of course NOW I’m DETOURED AGAIN. And once again I’m fucking lost. We drive around aimlessly until Super Girl (who has since regained her composure) says “Oh I know where we are!” to which I reply “bullshit.” And continue to drive thinking I kind of know where I am. Very quickly I’m fucking lost and not sure I’m even still in Texas. We come to a place where I have to turn either left or right and I ask Super Girl which way she thinks we should go. Against my better judgment I go the way she directs, to which she says “I know where we are.” Much to my fucking surprise, she actually does – proving that she has inherited her directional genetics from her father. She recognized the farm that we went to ONCE for a boring political picnic! But… that victory was fleeting. A few more turns and I had no clue where we were once again. Lost in suburbia.

Just as I was losing my will to go on, the clouds parted, angels sang and all that happy crap. I took a turn on a whim and wouldn’t you fucking know it, I was back on the street I live on! Right by the damned lake! Unbelievable, I found my way home and didn’t even need to call anyone for assistance.

I leave you with this for now… I know… long winded. Sorry. That’s me. I’m hopped up on the coffee and sugar! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!