Wordless Wednesday

Soooo.

This is why my husband doesn't put away the laundry.

And why I should really go to bed earlier. I didn't notice the mismatch until I was at the gym and putting on my running shoes. Oy vey.

I am also giving away a Progresso Souper You Debut gift pack here.

Oh, and while you're at it, I finally set up a Facebook Fan page for my blog (and corrected the link here - oops!). It's way overdue. Go like me on Facebook if you would so I can get an official username - once I get enough likes. You can also follow me on Twitter, too, if you're so inclined.

The Little Sneak!

Current Giveaways:

Strawberry Shortcake DVDs here
9Lives Prize Pack here

***

Friday was a busy day for me. After getting the wee ones off to their separate schools, I had a PTO meeting for Mister Man's school then was volunteering until 4pm for an event there, which meant I had to leave in the afternoon to pick up Little Miss. Oh yeah, and it was the first grade picnic. After that, my schedule had me taking the wee ones plus Mister Man's friend Violet (not her real name) to the chiropractor and then back to school for their carnival.

Needless to say, there was a lot to remember that day, and the morning was a little hectic - even more so than normal since Violet's mom had a class that day and needed to drop her off at our house early.

I got the wee ones out the door, and then I realized that I needed to pack a lunch for myself for the picnic. And it needed to be shelf stable since I was going to be at the school until lunchtime. I hadn't planned this out, and I needed to be walking out the door pronto.

I grabbed a pack of Flatout Wraps and a pouch of tuna, plus a pint of grape tomatoes I had sitting on the counter. Done and done.

The morning was as hectic as anticipated, but everything went reasonably well. At 12:15, I took my sad little packed but not actually made lunch out to the courtyard to meet Mister Man. And of course the lovely blanket that lives in the storage compartment of my car was mysteriously not there. But that's ok - it was warm and sunny and nice.

Once the first graders came out, Mister Man started eating his lunch, while I ripped open the tuna pouch and used my fingers to lay it on the flatwrap.

And thus appeared Violet.

With both her parents working, she'd told her teachers that she was having her picnic with us - with was fine with me. I asked where her lunch was. I learned her mom had ordered hot lunch for her and that she didn't have a lunch. Except that hot lunch for first graders had been canceled because of the picnic.

And so I shared my lunch - I wasn't going to eat the entire tuna packet, and I had three flatwraps in the package. I made her a sandwich and offered her some grape tomatoes. She took the sandwich, but unfortunately she doesn't like tomatoes.

Instead, Mister Man shared his grapes with her - since she also doesn't like carrots, either. It turns out she also doesn't like plain tuna on a flatout wrap. Bummer.

The family next to us had a huge picnic - as apparently did most of the families; I was one of the few who didn't have a dozen donuts, a package of eclairs, pizza or Subway takeout - and they gladly shared their Goldfish crackers, Milano cookies, and Fruit Roll-Up with Violet. She picked up a sandwich from another family and grazed the picnic gathering the yummiest of the treats from the picnic.

No one minded sharing, and she was happy to have a special lunch.

At the end of the school day, I gathered up Mister Man and Violet and returned to the event where I was volunteering. I had Mister Man work on his homework while he waited, and Violet insisted she had none. Not believing her, I checked her backpack.

Where I found her lunchbox.

Yep, sitting nestled quietly in her backpack was her lunch that her mom had packed for her. The apple was still wrapped in a paper towel, the veggies in their container, a yogurt in a special container, and a sandwich in its little bag. Untouched.

I looked at her in disbelief. Ummm, Violet, did you know your mom packed you a lunch, Sweetie?

Yes.

Is there a reason you told me that you didn't have a lunch today?

Well, I didn't want to eat it.

Oh. Of course.

I did tell her mom later - making sure that she knew no one was upset - who let me know that not only did Violet know that she had a lunch, but that Violet had also helped her mom pack it and had decided what to put into it.

What a stinker!

I'm A Creature Of Habit

There are still a couple more days to enter for a $25 Wal-Mart gift card here. I just put up a brand new giveaway for Angie's Kettle Corn here, with ten winners, I need you to enter!

***

I am a creature of habit, and I know it. I just proved it to myself yet again.

I'm sure you've heard of the phrase "A place for everything and everything in its place." I live it. It brings me comfort. Things belong somewhere, and then I know where they are. I don't have to search endlessly for them, trying to figure out what I did with my keys or my shoes or that homework paper Mister Man needs to turn in.

I get so good at it that sometimes I don't even realize I've done it. I'll freak out because I can't find my phone and call it, only to discover that I put it in my purse where it belongs. It's so instinctive that I don't even notice myself doing it.

So back to my proof.

Earlier this week - Wednesday, in fact - I went to the gym to run. I had two and a half hours to get to the gym, run, pretty myself up, and get to Mister Man's kindergarten graduation (don't get me started). The timing worked out beautifully, and I was happy.

When I arrived at the gym, I dropped Little Miss off at the kids' area and headed to the locker room. I grabbed my running skirt, my shirt, the freshly charged iPod and... no running shoes. Wait. What? Where are my running shoes?

Oh.

Yeah.

Let me back up a moment for you. When I run, I generally run on the treadmill at the gym. Being a non-sweating person (yep, that's me and it's no fun), I do well running where it isn't too hot and where I have a ready access to water. Thus, treadmill. However, on Monday I was scheduled to run but didn't have time until around 7:30 at night. Rather than drive the twenty minutes to the gym, I decided to run in my neighborhood since it had cooled into the low sixties.

Annnnnd when I took my shoes off in the family room when I got home, I left them sitting there. And because I wasn't in the habit of having to put them back into my gym bag, I didn't.

Back to the gym on Wednesday... I glanced down at the heeled black shoes I was planning to wear to Mister Man's graduation, and I debated whether I could pull off heading up to the floor anyway. Mmm no, no, I really can't. Instead I took a shower and spent a little extra time getting ready.

That night, I ran again at home, since June in Chicago is fortunately long sleeve weather half the time. At the end of my run, I carefully put my heart monitor and its accoutrements into one running shoe. My iPod and socks went into the other. I was not going to forget anything. In fact, I even remembered to put my running clothes into the wash since they ummm needed to be washed.

Yesterday, I returned to the gym, so proud of myself that I remembered to repack everything. I opened up my gym back and removed my heart rate monitor and my iPod. I grabbed my running shoes and... ummm where are my running clothes?

My mind raced back to my house where I could picture my clothes still hanging on the drying racks from where I'd done laundry the night before. Because, you know, I'm not in the habit of having to repack my running gear specifically.

I was absolutely not going to not get in another workout because I'd forgotten something. Again. And last night I didn't have the opportunity to run at home later in the day - I had a murder mystery party to get to (and oh, do I make a good saloon girl!). I surveyed my bag - as a Girl Scout, I always have something else packed. I had a pair of yoga pants and two sports br@s.

I sighed and debated whether I was truly desperate enough to wear this ensemble. I thought briefly and then realized that 1pm in a gym is a fairly empty time, which would work to my benefit. And that the fact that I don't know anyone at my gym actually worked to my advantage for once in my life.

Begrudgingly, I pulled on the yoga pants that are designed to have a) a perfect yogi body or b) a long shirt covering through the hip area. I had neither, but that was my own fault. I closed my eyes and pulled on the two sports br@s. And I felt n@ked.

I pulled the pants up until Erkle would have been proud. I pulled the sports br@s down until I had only a couple inches of exposed abdomen. I debated with myself again whether or not I was up to this. And I reminded myself yet again why I do not wear a bikini and probably never will.

But I did good. I sucked in my gut and walked up the stairs to the gym floor, and I did my workout. After the first five minutes, I wasn't constantly conscious of my lack of a running shirt; it only hit me every three or four minutes that I was soooooo exposed.

I concluded my workout in my creature of habit ways and left the gym in the same way I do every day. Shower, moisturizer, pants on, shirt on, return the towels, hair dried, makeup on, shoes on... just like I do every time I go to the gym.

Because I am a creature of habit. And I need it that way.

Oh, and my running clothes? They're currently sitting on the couch next to me. I put away all the laundry today, but my gym bag is in my car. Ten to one I forget to put them in my gym bag for tomorrow. On second thought, maybe I should go put them in my car now.

Sometimes You're The Windshield; Sometimes You're The Bug

I love that song, and now I have it going through my head. Artist anyone?

Today, I was the bug. While I was super productive and got a lot done, I also realized that all my running around out and about probably induced quite a few snickers. And deservedly so.

I have a pair of jeans that is coming really close to having a hole in the knee. I know to be careful with them. This is not uncommon, as the knees seem to give out regularly.

Me? I've got a whole different issue, and yes, I apparently walked around like this all day long. It wasn't until after dinner when Mister Man pointed it out that I realized my problem.

Go ahead, you can laugh, too. You've got my permission. There's really no way to salvage these, is there?

BUT if you laugh, you have to go enter giveaways - I'm extending my probiotic giveaway due to lack of entries. Probiotics are good for you in a lot of ways, and many of these are perfect for kids. Go. Enter.

Plus e.l.f. cosmetics giveaway.

And I have a brand new giveaway from Energizer - a Smart Charger!

Lastly (I know I know) if you want to hear about the oh so fun Silicon Valley Chicago Moms Blog event, go check out part one of my recap here.

That'll Teach Me To Listen To My Mother

A couple weeks ago, as I was about to walk out the door to go to work, my mom looked at me (and keep in mind, this is at 6:15am and I am not a morning person) and said, "Wow, you're really getting grey!"

Yep, just what you want to hear from your mother first thing in the morning. Now I will admit that I've never been one to color my hair. To be honest, it just seems like so much maintenance and time that I don't have. My mom, on the other hand, has been coloring her hair forever and doesn't actually know the true color of her hair anymore.

That little comment stuck with me. And now that I have a little more time on my hands since I'm staying home for a bit, I decided to do something about it. It could be fun to color my hair and have a little bit different look for a bit.

Having never done this before, I decided to find one that is not a permanent color. The last thing I want to do is have a disaster on my hand until my hair grows out. I looked around, and I was shocked at how hard it was to find non-permanent hair coloring. But I was persistent, and I found some that claims to last for a month.

The hard part was finding a color. I didn't want to go blonde. Or black. Or red. Or really anything with a major difference. I wanted to find something that had a little bit of a hint of color and highlight more than what mine does naturally these days. I finally settled on one that was a mild auburn. It was fairly close to my natural color but a bit brighter.

I read all the instructions and followed the preparations. As I poured the color from bottle one into bottle two, I was reassured that it was a lovely brown color. I put on the gloves and shook. I was supposed to shake until it was thickened, but who knows how long that takes. I kept shaking and shaking and finally decided that had to be long enough.

On went the dye, and I somehow managed to not get it on anything other than my hair. I consider that to be a minor miracle. I set the timer for eight minutes, figuring that it had taken me a minute or two to apply everything, and I was to leave it on for ten minutes.

Once I heard that magical beep, I began to rinse. I added the small amount of water to my hair and worked it into a lather. Next step was to rinse until the water ran clear. Yep, that's when I realized we might have a problem.

You see, the water was running purple. And I don't mean mostly brown with a little color, I mean full on Northwestern purple with a hint of red. My first instinct was to hyperventilate, but I managed to hold that back. As much as I love purple - and yes, it's my favorite color - having purple hair wasn't really what I was going for.

Every splatter against the shower walls freaked me out more, and I quickly used the gloves to wipe away those traces - because if I can't see them, it didn't happen, right? The water finally ran clean, much later than I thought it should have.

I cautiously peeked at my wet hair, and it appeared to be much the same as it was before. Of course any dark hair that's wet looks the same, but hey - it made me feel better.

Then I looked at the gloves I'd been using first to apply and then to rinse my hair. That's when I actually did start hyperventilating.

This doesn't do a good job of showing how truly red the gloves were (I so need a good camera!), but this doesn't look like the brown with a bit of a brighter hint that the package had promised, does it?

As I dried my hair, the sunlight streaming into the window showed me exactly what I had on my hands, errr my head. It was a gorgeous color. For Sharon Osbourne. In fact, I think this might well actually be her color.

Ironically, I heard my mom come into my house at this point, as she wanted to take Little Miss to gymnastics. I walked downstairs, and she started laughing. This is not a good sign. Once she recovered, she asked whether I was trying to go that red. Umm no.

Once Little Miss got off the bus, we moved into the kitchen, where I had the blinds closed. The good news? When I'm not in the sun, it doesn't look nearly so red. In fact, it's actually a decent color. I'm working on staying inside in bad lighting for the next month.

See? It's cloudy and rainy and yucky right now, so the red isn't coming out very well but you at least get the idea. Sorta. I should really know better, shouldn't I?

The friends I've seen in the intervening two days have yet to comment at all on my color change. And you know what that means - if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all as my mommy taught me.

Twenty-seven more hair washes, and I'll be back to normal. I hope. Apparently my virgin hair really liked the dye, so I'm hoping this doesn't mean it will last longer for me, too. In the meantime, does anyone have a cute hat I can borrow?

Stupid Electronic Systems

I went to the library the other day to pick up the fourth Twilight book. Finally, it was ready for me. Ok, I shouldn't say finally since I only put in my request for the first book ohhhh two weeks ago, but I get impatient when I'm waiting for a book.

I have a system at the library. The wee ones are only allowed to check out four books at a time. This makes it pretty easy for me to know where our books are that need to be returned and also to be sure that I don't accidentally forget to return one.

Now that Mister Man has his own library card, I've upped it from four total to four apiece. It's worked out fairly well so far. The library has a new system of electronic self checkout where you can look up info on your account as you check out.

My new system is to check out the new books, then look at how many books I have checked out. When I did this after checking out Breaking Dawn, I was mildly alarmed to see eight books checked out.

How do I have eight books checked out? Did I accidentally check out Mister Man's books on my library card? Fortunately, you can not only see the number of books checked out but -- if you pretend you're going to renew them -- you can also see the specific titles.

I skimmed through the titles quickly. Four books for Little Miss. Check. Breaking Dawn. Check. Love and Logic Book. Check. The Kings Man (a Sharon Kay Penman book I had gotten the last visit). Check. The Devil's Brood. Uhhh, what?

I looked more closely at it. The books were all due on May 26. Except The Devil's Brood. That one was due May 14. Uhhh, I only checked out books for myself one time. The Devil's Brood isn't my book!

How can I return a book I didn't ever check out? I began hyperventilating, imagining the fees the library would charge to replace the book. Stupid self-checkout. I must have somehow forgotten to click "Done" at the end of one of my sessions with the wee ones and someone had checked out a book on my account, obviously intending to steal it.

I hate people. What's wrong with them that they would do this? And how stupid was I to forget to click the button that ensured no one else could check out a book under my account. I so wish they were still using the system where the librarians checked out each person.

I stewed about this the whole way home. I woke up in the middle of the night freaking out about it. Yes, I know it's silly, but this is how I deal with things I've done "wrong."

This morning I finished The King's Man and started the next book in the pile. It took me about three chapters before I realized that I was reading The Devil's Brood.

Oh. Yeah. I remember now. I chose two Sharon Kay Penman novels when I checked out books. That way I had four books, too, just like the wee ones. Two novels of hers, the Love and Logic book, and Twilight.

Yeah.

I guess people aren't so bad after all.

Oops.

In a way, I'm glad that Mister Man already knows how to read. And he's getting better at spelling. This is not due to the teaching he's getting at the kindergarten he attends through daycare.

I was going through his backpack last night and came upon a short story that the children were supposed to read and then copy onto the back side. Mister Man didn't do much in the way of copying, what with his arm and all, and it's a good thing, too! Hopefully, this didn't sink in.



So how exactly does a dog wage his tail? Is it kind of like fighting a war? Is it a way of paying his tail?

Oops.

I know, I know. It's only February 20. I think I make a pretty compelling case, however. I would like to hereby submit my application for Mother Of The Year 2009. Please see below for the details. I'm pretty sure I've got this one in the bag.

On Wednesday, we woke up and got ready for school. Little Miss gets on her bus around 8:30 or 8:40 or 8:45 or 9:05 or whenever the bus feels like showing up. I then take Mister Man to daycare by 9 to go to his kindergarten class there and begin work. From there, the school district handles getting Little Miss from preschool to daycare and Mister Man from daycare to preschool. I just need to make sure they're picked up before the daycare closes.

When I looked out the window that fateful morning, it was raining. I checked the thermometer, and it was in the high thirties. Given how hard it was raining, I decided the right call was Wellies and raincoats for both wee ones. They happily put them on, we went on our merry way, and that was that.

Exept for one small issue. By the time the afternoon rolled around, it looked something like this outside:



Just in case you can't see it too well, here's another image. Yes, that's snow. And yes, that's an accumulation on the ground. You can't see that it's now seventeen degrees.



Yep, by the time the wee ones got home, it was most definitely parka weather. But not for my wee ones. Nope, they were in their spring raincoats and wellies. Yeah....

Oops.

Next time, I'm checking the weather forecast. I promise! In the meantime, I'm a shoo-in, aren't I?

Monsters Aren't Real

I was putting both the wee ones to bed last night because my husband wasn't home from work quite yet. They'd both had showers, pjs were on, and teeth were brushed. I'd finished the book, and it was just about time to turn out the lights. Little Miss was snug in my arms, but she wanted down to give Mister Man a hug and kiss goodnight.

After the hugging and kissing finished, Mister Man told me to look in his closet. I turned around and put my hand on the small brass knob, throwing a fake frightened look over my shoulder. He giggled with delight. I creaked open the closet a smidgen of an inch, then gasped and shut it. Mister Man was rocking back and forth on his Thomas sheets roaring with laughter.

I repeated myself, opening the door just a tiny pinch further before shutting it quickly and turning my back to it. It was about then that I noticed the hysterical screaming.

Oops.

I gathered Little Miss back into my arms, shushing and rocking to try to calm her. I asked her why she was crying, only to discover that my pretending there were monsters in the closet had truly frightened her out of her wits. I calmly explained that I was merely pretending and that there was nothing in the closet. I took a step towards the closet to demonstrate.

A wildcat erupted in my arms as she flailed and clawed and tried to climb onto my head and down my back to get away, screaming in panic all the while. I reassured her that it was fine and that I was going to show her that there was nothing in the closet. Mister Man piped up that yes, there was too something in the closet. I shot him a look intended to get him to pipe down, and he looked crushed.

As I reached the closet, I realized that I had no way of holding onto the she-demon in my arms and opening the closet at the same time. However, were I to set her on the ground, she quite possibly might break the sound barrier exiting the room. This is where creativity really pays off. I managed to slide my toe under the closet door and exert enough pressure to open the door.

As the creature howled before darting out of the closet, my eardrum was pierced from the screams of panic from Little Miss.

See, I told you there was something in there! crowed Mister Man.

I quickly began pointing out to Little Miss that the creature was just Roar (one of our cats) who'd somehow gotten trapped inside Mister Man's closet and that it wasn't a monster and monsters don't exist and see Mommy always takes care of you and really it's ok, while mentally cataloguing how soon I needed to go to bed to make up for the lack of sleep I'd soon get due to Little Miss's nightmares.

Luckily, my soothing bedside manner is more effective than I thought, and she awoke this morning with no nightmares and no apparent ill-effects.

This morning, my mom was watching the wee ones who are off school, lucky devils, while I worked and conducted conference calls.

At the end of one conference call, I heard the oh-too-familiar hysterical screaming and then the whining, panting cries for Moommmmyyyyy. I hurried downstairs only to hear my mom whispering to her, it's ok; it was just pretend. You don't need Mommy. It's ok; we'll just pretend that didn't happen.

Yep, my mom also managed to scare the patootie out of Little Miss by turning off all the lights, handing the wee ones mini-flashlights, putting them in the toy house we have down there and then making our toy ride-on lion poke his head into said house and roar. Loudly.

Way to go, Mom. errr moms?

Thanks, Doctor

So today, I am sitting in a hospital. The good news is that no, nothing is wrong with anyone per se. It's just time for Little Miss to get her tubes out. Funny story, that.

She's had her tubes in for over two years. When we got her three year checkup in August, the doctor mentioned that her tubes didn't look like they were functioning anymore. In fact, one looked kind of like a lollipop with a wax top sitting on the tube. Yummy! He suggested we see our ENT and have him evaluate her tubes.

Our ENT is a great guy. He is great with the little ones, and he runs pretty much right on schedule. The downside is that he's affiliated with a hospital that's almost an hour from my house in non rush hour traffic. If I have to have the tubes removed, I don't want to be driving there early in the morning and fighting traffic. Nice as he is, I want a new ENT.

I asked for a referral to an ENT a little closer to where we're at, and the pediatrician wrote down the names of two that he liked. I tucked that note away and procrastinated on making an appointment.

When we went to Florida, we realized her tubes really weren't working. Oh and that maybe I should have gone to the ENT earlier. Too late though to keep her from bleeding from her ear, but I flipped a coin and called one of the ENTs whose office was about 15 minutes from my house.

He was available the Monday after we got back, and we headed on over there. He agreed that her tubes were non functional and that they needed to be removed. Further, he recommended putting in new tubes since we have a family history of longstanding ear infections. He asked which hospital I wanted to have them done at.

Good Shepherd, I replied.

Umm, I meant Lake Forest or Highland Park. My brain screeched to a halt. For those of you not familiar with Chicago geography, let me clarify. Good Shepherd = very close. Lake Forest and Highland Park = further than my work and likely an hour and a half to two hours to get there. That's further than the first hospital I was trying to avoid.

As I tried to wrap my mind around how my pediatrician thought that closer meant only the doctor's office and not the hospital he was affiliated, I was relieved to hear that the nurse would be calling me to make an appointment for the surgery and I didn't have to choose right then what I'd do.

By the time the nurse called me two days later, I had made up my mind. In fact, I'd made an appointment with the other referral from my pediatrician -- after verifying that yes, he was affiliated with the hospital close to my house. I explained the situation, and the nurse completely understood.

Now I just have to explain to my insurance company why I had to see two different ENTs within three days of each other in a non-emergency situation. But I figure that I have a good two hours of waiting for Little Miss here to figure that one out.

Me, I've learned my lesson. First, don't procrastinate when it comes to bodily orifices. Second, don't assume that a doctor is affiliated with the hospital that makes sense geographically.



PS The surgery went well. Little Miss has successfully had her tubes removed and a paper patch placed in them to help the eardrum heal. She came out of the anesthesia just fine and enjoyed watching Peter Pan while in the recovery room. While I've been cautioned that we may be back for new tubes in a few months, we have our fingers crossed that this is it!

Best Wishes!

When I was at work on Monday a coworker stopped by to show off her new diamond. It was large and gorgeous and oh so shiny. It reminded me that mine desperately needs to be cleaned. Maybe I need to go "shopping" for jewelry again soon so I can have someone steam clean it properly.

Anyway, once we all finished ooooing and ahhhhhing over her rock and demanding the answers to the usual questions like when the wedding will be, we asked her about the engagement story.

Her fiance (ok, another minor pet peeve of mine: fiance is the male; fiancee is the female -- French adds the extra e) apparently has been joking for quite awhile about getting married, and it's gotten old.

Last Saturday, (when it was cold and yucky here) he suggested that they go walk around the lake for some exercise. She had a long list of errands that needed to be done so tried to demur, but he wouldn't let her. She suggested doing it at the end of the errand-running, but he insisted on doing it earlier, so she acquiesced and agreed to do it midway through the day.

When they got to the lake, she put her sweatshirt on and stepped out of the car, and then she realized how cold it was. She suggested that she wait in the car for him while he walked. He insisted the both walk. She agreed but didn't want to walk all the way around the lake. He kept insisting.

When they got to the midpoint, he stopped and dropped to one knee. "Oh, get up. This isn't funny anymore," she told him. He was really asking her to marry him, but until she saw the box, she didn't believe him and kept blowing it off.

The spot they stopped at on the lake is where they had their first kiss. It's across the street from where they had their first date's dinner. It was all romantic, and she kept unintentionally trying to ruin it. OH, and they were going to dinner that night with two couples... the two that had introduced them to each other. It was all planned, and it had to be that night.

It makes me feel better to realize that I am not the only woman to sabotage an engagement.

My husband asked me to marry him when we were in San Diego on vacation. We were staying on Coronado Island and had gone to the Gaslamp district during the day to hang out. We got caught up watching college football in a cute little Mexican bar and headed back to the island later than we'd expected, and it was starting to get dark. On the little ferry back to the island, it started to rain. By the time we reached the dock on the other side, it was pouring and I hightailed it back to the room.

Once in the room, I changed into dry clothes and laid across the bed to peruse (read: drool over) the spa services offered by the hotel. My husband started talking about how great I am and how much he loves me and so on. I responded with only half my attention because I was still reading all the cool things that I could pay way too much money to have done to me. He finally grabbed the brochure from my hands and demanded I pay attention to him. He was on one knee with a box. And had been reciting a speech (monologue that I was interrupting). Oops.

He had intended to ask me not in twilight but in the graceful sunset as we walked on the beach in Coronado Island. Whoops. Then he was going to ask in the moonlight on the dock. Whoops. And in his mind, it had to be that day because he'd asked my parents' permission before we left (even showing them the ring), and he didn't want them to think he'd chickened out. Personally, I would have waited another day, but that's just me.

Anyone else mess up their engagement?

Who's On First?

This year has become a bit more complicated with the wee one's schedules. But hey, I'm the one who was so busy in college I had color coded markers to help me remember where I was supposed to be when in my calendar. And it worked!

MWTh - I work. Mondays I go to the office, and generally I work from home on Wednesdays and Thursdays.

M-F - Little Miss goes to preschool on the bus in the mornings.

M-F - Mister Man goes to preschool on the bus in the afternoons.

MW - Little Miss goes to daycare after preschool, and the bus drops her off there.

MWTh - Mister Man goes to the "kingergarten" program at daycare in the morning and gets on the bus from there.

Last week, Little Miss was sick all week and we kept her home. My mom was a huge help and did babysitting for me when I was working, which made life so much easier.

So someone please explain to me why I was sitting on the front porch on Thursday at 12:15 while my mom was on a walk with Little Miss (she was feeling a bit better then) waiting for Mister Man's bus.

Seriously. I even called my mom to ask where she was and why she was still walking and not home waiting for Mister Man's bus. Oh. Yeah. I'd dropped him off at daycare at 9am, and the bus was coming to daycare around 12:30 or so to take him to preschool. No bus.

And I wonder why I have them signed up only for swim lessons on Saturday mornings and no other extra curricular activities at the moment.

I'm SOOOO Not A Morning Person

I'm really not. I'm not a night owl either. Early afternoon isn't my highlight. I'm still figuring out where I shine, but it definitely isn't in the morning.

Yesterday morning, the alarm went off at 5:40am, and I didn't roll over and snooze it. Nope, like a good little girl, I got up and took my shower so I could be on the road to work by 6:15. As I stood brushing my teeth, I realized this was probably the last week I'd be able to get ready without turning the light on. Early mornings with harsh light are worse for me.

As I got everything together, I realized that I needed to take off my nail polish before going to work. As a side note, bug spray does not like nail polish. I didn't have time before I left, so I ran upstairs to bring it with me in the car to do after I ate my breakfast. And yes, I eat my oatmeal on the road. It's too hot to eat when I make it, and no food allowed in workspaces.

As I walked out of the house, I even remembered to grab the three bags of Target things that I had to return on my way home. When I got in my car, I realized that I had forgotten my phone and sunglasses, so I retrieved them, as well. Phew!

Traffic wasn't too bad, and I was pleased with that, although I again realized that I'd shortly be driving to work in pitch blackness. It actually got quite dark as a huge thunderstorm rolled in, and I thanked my lucky stars that I'd be at work before (I hoped) the storm would hit.

A couple miles from work, I started reviewing mentally what I had to do when I got to work. That's about when I realized that I might have left my laptop at home. I looked over to the passenger seat and moved the Target bags to find ... nothing. Whoops.

On the way home to pick up my laptop (since my husband and wee ones were still asleep and couldn't meet me halfway), I watched the traffic on the other side of the road build up more and more. There were more than a few deep sighs heaved in the twenty-five minutes it took to glide home through open streets. Yeah, the trip back took over an hour. Well over two hours in the car before I made it to work. Fun!

As I parked, I realized how much the parking lot fills up in the hour and a half after I usually get to work. The south entrance to my building has an upper and a lower parking lot, with an entrance towards the west side of the north wall. I always park on the lower level on the far east row because I usually get the third or fourth spot there. I was about the fourth from the end in that row yesterday.

Now's when my brain fuzziness in the morning started to cause problems, although I didn't realize it until a couple hours later when I thought through the sequence of events. As I got close to the door, I reached into my purse to get my badge. Except that it was still attached to the pants that I work last week and sitting in the dirty clothes hamper (don't judge my laundry speed).

Without a badge, one must go upstairs per the sign near the entrance. I trudged up the stairs to the entrance there. Only once I got through the revolving doors did I realize that there was no guard there and that I had to walk around to the main entrance.

Now. My building employs several thousand people, and it's designed with long wings to the north and south. A normal person would return to the car and park near the main entrance, especially since another thunderstorm was threatening and about to break. That thought never crossed my head, as I walked around the building with no sidewalks to the main entrance to get admitted.

Fortunately, the rest of the day at work went better, as it was no longer really morning. Or at least not early morning. And how much more could I do wrong, right?

Oh, except that I learned that without a badge, I can't print anything or make any copies or get faxes, as all that requires logging in via my badge. Not that I learned this two minutes before a meeting where I intended to walk a couple people through a presentation I had created or anything. Luckily, I work with understanding people!

When I left at the end of the day, I went down to the lower level garage and used my temporary badge to get the doors to open so I could exit. That's when it dawned on me that if the temporary badge didn't work to print anything, it also wouldn't let me out.

I went back to the nice guards to return the temporary badge and gain access to the outside world. Walking outside to more thunder for my trek back around the building and to the furthest reaches of the parking lot, I got out my car keys. And realized that I'd left my phone upstairs (anyone sensing a theme here?).

Fortunately the guard let me back in, and I only had to carry the badge versus getting a whole new holder for it. When I came back, said guard told me good-bye and hoped that it was the last time. Because, really, I needed the snark to remind me that I didn't have it together! Fortunately, at that point, it just made me giggle.

And when I looked at my watch -- oh wait, I forgot to put on my watch yesterday, too, so really it was the clock on my phone -- I realized that the morning was over and the day could only look up.

Next time the alarm goes off at 5:40? I might snooze it. My mom, on the other hand, suggests a checklist. Too practical!