See? Funny. HILARIOUS.
Yesterday I dropped my eldest--Plus One-- at preschool, then came home with T9 to clean up and such in preparation for the husband's homecoming. He's been gone guys. For a month. That's years in solo-parenting. Anyway, the morning was splendid. I scrubbed bathtubs, interacted in a meaningful manner with my two year old, and even started breading a herd of unicorns I found feeding in the back yard.
After a few hours of this, we headed back to the school to pick up Plus One. T9 and myself hung out in the hallway along with the other parents and preschool artwork that adorned the walls. And after only a few minutes, everyone was AWWWW!ing over my youngest, who was chanting for his beloved brother to emerge. He calls him "brother," you see because he hasn't yet mastered his real name, but I appreciate that because it helps me maintain their anonymity here without much awkward explaining and nicknaming.
Anyway, the kid is chanting like a lovesick puppy after being away from his big brother for TWO HOURS, and when Plus One's head finally bounced out the door of the classroom, they ran toward each other with laughter and smiles, embracing and saying things like "BRAVAH!" and "BABY! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!" At this point, a mother started weeping at the pure beauty of the moment and out of the corner of my eye, a dad looked at his own child with dejection. I decided to ask the boys to reenact the scene, but this time in slow motion while I play some Kings of Leon in the background, and this time guys? Maybe some tears?
When we got in the car, I decided to test our luck at the library. I had some books due on Friday and thought WHAT THE HEY! We pulled into a prime spot in front of the old building and the boys held hands as we walked through the parking lot. Once inside, I slipped the books out of my eco-friendly bag, set them on the front counter, and lead the boys toward the kids' section. Now, HERE guys, is where my Earth shifted a bit, sending the unicorns sprinting back to the forest with panic as the rainbows and lollipop clouds popped like bubbles out of the sky. In a heartbeat, I was chasing T9 through the stacks, hushing his squeals of "MOORE! MOOORE DOOOK!" with fairly loud and frantic whispers. Suddenly, another fire sprouted up when I heard Plus One loudly lamenting that they didn't have his preferred title, a fictionalized literary work he dreamed up in the car titled, When Batman Catches that Guy with the Boxes.
For the love of god, it was time to leave.
I grabbed some Halloween books and dragged my forlorn crew to the counter. Initially, I set T9 down in order to procure my library card, but he instantly sprinted to the rotating display of romance novels with an eye for destruction. So I dropped the books and card on the counter, scooped him up, and headed back to the stern-looking librarian. It was at this point that T9 took my face in his hand in what I thought was going to be another SWEET AS HELL gesture, but rather, he palmed my head and started shoving me backwards. I stood there, squirming like a cat with a tube sock on his head, ultimately setting him on the floor to regain bodily functions.
TIME OUT, T9. I set him against the desk and he commenced his faux wailing. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Plus One still wimpering about the non-existence of his MOST FAVORITE BOOK EVER and quietly scowled to myself. A line was forming. And OHMYGOD is it hot in here?
Looking up to the librarian with exasperation and a pleading smile for SEND BACKUP, she simply eyeballed me disapprovingly.
Her: You have a late fee for $2.25.
Me: [Sweating. Panting. Half bent over, keeping a thumb on a wily child.] For what?
Her: [Reading through the titles I just returned. Clearly ANNOYED.]
Me: [Confused.] But those weren't due until Friday, though.
Her: [Heavy sigh. Labored adjustment of spectacles.] No, ma'am. They were due back in early October.
Me: [Now lurching toward the floor and back in a tug-of-war with said wily child.] But I renewed them online!
Plus One: [Wimpering turning to full-fledged tears and a distinct WHHAAAAAH.]
T9: [Beginning to climb my leg and, wait, nope, yes, he's BITING ME IN THE THIGH.]
Her: Well, it's not showing up on MY computer, so I JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL YOU.
Me: [Shaking the baby from my leg and balancing on my other foot while eyeballing Plus One with that YOUSTOPITRIGHTNOW look.] Well, I don't have any cash on me...I...I mean...I could run to the car? Or...geeze...[WAIL!WHIMPER!CHOMP!]
Her: [HEAVY MOTHERFUCKING SIGH] Well, I guess I can waive it for you THIS TIME. [EYEROLL. Oh yes, the old ho bag still has it, folks.]
Me: I really...T9! OUCH! STOPIT! THAT'SREALLYNAUGHTY!..I really appreciate it...PLUSONE! GET BACK HERE YOU DON'T LEAVE WITHOUT MOMMY...
Her: [Scanning the Halloween books into the apparently useless computer.] THESE are due back in three weeks. Make note of the date on your calendar, hmm?
Me: [*twitch* *spazz* be a good role model. be a good role model.] SURE THING MADAM LIBRARIAN. SURE FUCKING THING. HAVE A GODDAMN SPLENDID DAY, NOW, OK?! OK! [*twitch* *spazz*]
I threw the books into the bag, scooped the children into a football hold and/or dragged them by the fingertips out the door where they proceeded to dash into oncoming traffic and toward roped-off construction areas. And rather than embracing one another with pure, childhood affection and saving each other from peril, these little piggies now smacked, screeched, and body slammed each other ALLLLLL the way home!
So, you know, I figure the day was pretty much a wash.