Tun-tun, tun-tun-tun-tun, tun-tun-tun-tun, tun-tun-tun-tun, tun-tun tun turooo-rooo, turooo-rooo, turoo-rooo, turoooooooooooo …
All I wanted to do was leave my parent’s house by 8:00 o’clock to make it to my friend’s BIG 4-0 celebration. Listen to music, laugh with some friends and not have to worry about being a mom for one night. I don’t get out much in the evening, let alone an entire night for partying, so needless to say I was pretty excited.
It’s hard to find someone to watch my kids for even an hour, let alone an entire evening. I know what you’re thinking, You live at your parents…hello they would to help you out, right?…Well there are all types of grandparents. You got the Huxtable loving grandmother who cares, does anything for you, drop your kids off any time you need a break. I’m-a help you. Then you have the Everybody Loves Raymond Marie Barone grandmother who sometimes helps a little bit TOO much. Or you have the crazy Tyler Perry grandmama like Madea who’ll watch your kids, but knock the sass out them with a frying pan in a second. And then you have my mom who believes in “the chancla”. She’s old school and won’t hesitate to reincarnate into the Latin version of Madea…I try not ask for many favors as I feel my presence in her house is a big enough favor alone as I am in her “space.” Asking for her to watch them is usually a great challenge…like climbing Everest in the snow with one leg. So I keep the babysitting to a minimum. I have to build enough courage to withstand “the exhale” and “the look” and then the … “well I guess so.”
But once that force field is up I have to insure that everything is hassle free. So I needed to put my kids to sleep before we could leave. That way all my mom had to do was watch them as they slept…easy right? I thought so.
I figured if I planned it out with enough time I would be able to tire both my kids out for an early nap in the afternoon and then plan out for an early bed time. As it got closer to dinner time I began with the crazy anxiety and feeling like it wasn’t going happen. There was too much to do and I should have started earlier, like a 7 a.m. or something. But I pushed on …
At 6 p.m. I cleaned the house, did some laundry, played with my son, fed the baby, cooked dinner, washed the dishes, opened the computer for blogging, prepared the bottles for the evening, left detailed instructions for my mom, played with my son some more, closed the computer for no blogging, folded the laundry, then his dad finally shows up.
At 7 p.m. they take showers, while I try my best to keep the baby awake and reiterate the baby sitting instructions for mom, which she ignores of course because as she often tells me “…how do you think you were raised?” I often wonder that myself. She shrugs off my instructions and tells me not to worry about it. She knows what she’s doing. My husband and son get out of the shower, and help me fold the remaining laundry. Our son decides to help too, so we have to re-fold half the pile. Husband gets our son ready for bed. Our son needs his teddy.
At 7:30 p.m. I run downstairs to get it and run back up. The baby needs the bottle I run downstairs to get it and run back up. Our son needs water I run downstairs to get it, and as I am going back up the stairs I realize I also need to take the bottle warmer and baby cooler with milk bottles. I turn back to get them and as I walk over the dog and her bed in my Hanes cotton socks I don’t quite make it up the stairs as a normal person would.
Walking is not complicated. It’s really not.
One foot in front of the other…it should be the same process when I go up the stairs, however the laws of physics did not agree with my Hanes white-cotton socks. I slipped at the base of the wooden staircase and my hips landed smack down on the corner of the second step…bottles went flying everywhere. And I needed to take a minute … several actually as the pain radiated throughout my body and the ouwwwwwww came out.
Pine is not a soft wood at all. If I was a senior citizen the ambulance would have needed to make a trip to the house. This pain was beyond profanity. It was just ouuuwwwwwwwwwwwwww and clenched fists. People fall down stairs all the time. Constantly. However, my body decided to fall going up the stairs. UP! Not down. Up. It must be the Guatemalan blood.
At 7:45 I peeled myself off the stairs, collected the bottles and sippy cup and crawled up the wooden staircase and plopped on the bed massaging my hip.
“You shouldn’t have fallen down.” my husband says.
“Yeah. I guess that wasn’t a good idea.”
At 7:50 I took a shower and rubbed my hip
At 7:55 I came out of the shower, continued rubbing my hip, and took some ibuprofen.
At 8:00 I got dressed and kissed my son good night and his dad put him to bed. The baby was wrapped up and sleeping already. I carefully made my way downstairs to use the blow dryer.
At 8:15 My son was still awake.
At 8:20 My mother returns from filling a prescription down the street that apparently needed to be done at that moment in time.
At 8:30 My husband comes down and assures me that our son is on his way to dreamland.
At 8:31 My husband tells me he’s left the keys to the car next to my son.
At 8:32 My son is still awake.
At 8:45 My husband assures me again that our son is off to dreamland.
At 8:50 We’re in the car ready to go, pulling out of the driveway.
At 8:55 We’re on the freeway. Only 55 minutes later. If I was saving the world like Tom Cruise, we’d all be dead by now. I thought, at least my kids are asleep and I don’t have to worry…
At 8:56 my aunt, who incidentally caused the mini tsunami that washed over my computer a couple of days ago, decides to slam the bathroom door.
At 8:57 My son is awake asking where we are.
Midnight…My son finally falls asleep.
At 1:00 a.m. We walk back in the door. I’m still massaging my hip. No time for blogging Saturday night. So for the second time this year I miss a day. First one due to a mini-tsunami that sidelined my computer. Second one bad hip and failing mission eight o’clock. Better luck next time.