Kelly and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning*: Some days conspire against us, no matter what we do. I think I’ll move to Canada.
It begins before I wake up, but I don’t know this.
It is Monday.
I stumble downstairs and eat my usual bowl of cereal. Dirty dishes pile around the sink and I clean them. Food splashes onto my favorite shirt. I curse and try to wash it off when the faucet water dribbles to a trickle, then nothing.
The water is simply gone.
I need a shower. I have plans tonight.
I hurry to my gym so I can shower.
They don’t have water either.
I enter a near panic state at not having a shower. I learn a flood – caused by rain nowhere near us so our grass is still parched – has destroyed the water supply for all places east of the highway.
My mind runs through all of the ramifications of this news.
Then I wake up and finally discover it was all a dream.
I stumble downstairs for (what feels like) the second time.
I pour a bowl of cereal and hear, “Oh, Diva!” followed by scrambling and her protests.
CG comes downstairs and grabs paper towels. “She dumped the cat water dish.”
I laugh, and it hits me.
This is going to be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning.
Because she never does this.
I either haven’t attended or been on time to my strength class in a month and desperately need the exercise. I dress in my workout clothes to ensure the day flows seamless so I can arrive on time.
The children whine as I try to prepare their lunches to eat at the gym.
I am still on time.
Ten minutes to leave: Lil Diva fills her diaper requiring a change. I am ready for this, as it was the cause to my previous late arrivals.
Five minutes to leave: I quickly use the bathroom and wash my hands.
One minute to leave:I exit the bathroom to gather the kids and find Lil Diva by the back door. With this:
Notice how everything was removed from my wallet?
What. The. Frak.
This does not bode well for the teen years.
And I know, this will be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning.
Maybe I should move to Canada.
Five minutes late: I quickly repack my gym bag and wallet. I load it into the car as I request my son put his shoes on. I return and sling the diaper bag (designed like a backpack) over my shoulder. I open the fridge and bend over to grab their travel water cups when I hear a splash.
The diaper bag has collided with my son’s water cup, the large one, which he had filled to the brim and only taken the smallest sip of.
It floods the counter top, soaking the mail, waterfalling down the side into a splash pool on the floor.
I grab a beach towel from the steps and toss it onto the tile, past the point of caring as I try to prevent the mail from distintegrating.
And I know it will be a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Morning.
Ten minutes late: I hurry the kids into the car, as Lil Diva demands her drink. I hand snacks to them both and drive.
Thank goodness no flat tire occurred.
I arrive and rush the children to the child care center as fast as possible.
There is a line to check in backed up to the door, common five to ten minutes before my class (and the two others that begin at the same time), but almost unheard of after classes have begun.
Fifteen minutes late: It is finally my turn and I sprint to the locker room to drop off my stuff and to the class.
Time of arrival: Seventeen minutes late to class, helped slightly by this clock being the slowest one in the entire gym.
I exercise, barely able to finish lunges across the room with a bar after three sets of squats on a boso and one-legged squats.
And I know, Tuesday I will not be able to walk.
I was right, but at least the day got better after the hot shower following class.
Minus a second workout bag disassemble by Lil Diva.
It was a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad morning.
My husband says some mornings are like that. Even in Canada**.
Do you ever have days/morning/evenings/weeks like this?
*This is a play on the children’s book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. If you haven’t read it, it is classic and I would love to write an expanded Stay at Home Mother version. What do you think?
** T minus 13 days to my trip to Canada!!!