This morning, as I was getting everything to go to a Christmas party at my sister’s house, I dropped a plate of 2 dozen hot coconut macaroons on the floor. I had just gotten my kids in the van . . . an ordeal in itself! Child#1 changed clothes 3 times, because she couldn’t wrap her brain around the fact that this was a breakfast PAJAMA party. Child 2 screamed for at least a half hour because he wanted to go to the church primary party that was also that morning and since we had to choose, family came first. Finally after he realized that the family party would be longer (more games, more treats, etc.) he got in the van, quite happily too. (grrr) I on the other hand after trying to get them going, had not quite been able to get it all together and I was still trying to round up cookies for the Christmas cookie exchange. So now the kids are waiting for me while I am scrambling to get the cookies out of the oven and onto a plate, which I then dropped on the floor . . . lovely!
So, I scooped them up, all mashed and broken and left them on the counter to cool. (We fed them to the chickens when I got home — I hope they don’t die . .)
When we got there, we were short on graham crackers for the little gingerbread village the kids were making. So I went to the store to get more. And as I am waiting for someone to back out some hot guy in a red fire bird swoops in between me and the row of parked cars and steals my parking space! It wasn’t even a packed parking lot. I mean there were plenty of available spaces, that one just happened to be opening up and was a little closer to the door, so I was like hey! maybe something will go my way this morning! (because it really was super cold outside) BUT NO! So I rolled down my window and yelled “Merry Christmas! I Hope it’s an emergency!” and he looked at me and said “It is!”
Well I didn’t buy that crap for a second! So when I went in the store and saw him there I walked right up to him and looked him in the eye and said “So, what’s the emergency?” He said something lame about getting a money order for his wife and I said, well there were lot’s of other open parking spaces. He looked uncomfortable and I just turned around and walked off. Maybe there was some kind of emergency that required a money order, sure, I can see that, but how much longer would it really have taken to park the next row over? It’s just that I was already quite obviously in position to take that spot. It’s like a plate of cookies sitting there, and I reach out to take one and he snatches it up off of the top of the pile just because he can. What a JERK! I thought of so many good things I could have said later of course — like “Thank you for reminding me what a great husband I have. I hope that money order keeps your wife happy, ’cause you don’t have much else to offer.”
So, I’m really fine with it. Maybe his wife is really horrible. Maybe I should feel sorry for the poor guy . . .
Did I mention that I had also toted along a casserole for the church Christmas dinner? I took it with me so I could bake it at my sister’s house and have it ready to drop off at the church by 4pm.
Again I am trying to round up my kids so I won’t be late dropping off the casserole. Again, I am invisible. I say get in the car, and they are out jumping on a snow covered trampoline 2 seconds later. Is what I am asking really that horrible? Because I am looking at the snow out there and that is not my idea of fun! By the time we are actually on the way, it is 3:45 and we are a good 45 minutes away. I drove fast and made it there only 15 minutes late. And someone had put their hand in the casserole. There was a big dent in one end where the foil had been completely mashed in.
“Who did this?”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
Three innocent pairs of eyes are staring at me.
“Come on, it was hot. There is no way you could do this and not notice!”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
blink, blink, blink.
So I pull out the guilt trip.
“An honest person would tell their mother if they did something like this.”
“Not me!”
“Not me!”
“Whaaaa ok, it was meeeeee!”
Now it’s my turn to feel bad for yelling. But I don’t. Not really. Ok, maybe a little . . .
I told the lady I handed it to to just stick the serving spoon in there and maybe no one would notice, and then I left. very quickly.
I took the kids home and had them change. We went to the church for dinner — No way I was going to try to cook after all that. And my casserole was already out on the serving table, and there was only one serving left.
I guess it wasn’t such a really bad day . . .