Queen of Rambles

I’ll never sleep tonight, no matter how many sleeping pills I take. We’re closing on the townhouse tomorrow! I’m excited, but a little worried. I’m not too worried about the monetary aspect of it, I’m more worried about the poop aspect of it. A friend volunteered to take Erik for the day, but the child had the trots today. There is no way I can leave him with a friend if he is still sick. It would be beyond rude. But how can I take a poopy child to a big, boring meeting? There is no solution to this problem.

I’m also worried about the roads. We had an ice storm last night, then things started melting today. If it all refreezes it is going to be a nightmare. We need to be out the door around 10:30, so I’m hoping the roads will be salted and clear by then. We don’t need to get killed on our way to a house closing.

Erik wanted to go sledding again today, so we made it as far as the public sidewalk in front of our complex before we had to turn back. No one cleared the sidewalk and neither of us could walk on it. I was doing semi-ok in my winter boots, but I could see that we had to make it across the sidewalk, then across another sidewalk then through a parking lot that looked like a skating rink.

I talked Erik into going down the mini-hill by our building and thought the poor lad was going to die. I sent him down the hill, which was fine yesterday, and he just about went off the embankment edge and into the parking lot. The snow had all turned into a literal sheet of ice and it sent him zooming. My heart was in my throat and I had no way to stop him. Of course, he stopped about 10 feet short of the actual embankment but it still was a little scary for a minute.

Then the poor kid had to climb back up the hill. In his cowboy boots. I’m a bad mom and didn’t realize his cowboy boots have no traction at all. He couldn’t make it and I couldn’t make it down to him so we were in a right pickle. I kept picturing my sister’s broken leg and knew I would be totally screwed if I fell. In the end I sat down on my fat rump and slid down the bumpy ice sheet then walked him out a different way that didn’t require climbing a hill.

In the end we went over to the office for a cookie (for him, I’m still being sugar free) and a run around the racquetball court. We weren’t the only family with that idea, so he got to play with a couple of girls while I tried to hide my mismatched clothes and bed head from the mother.

That was probably the highlight of the poor kid’s day. We finally got the final settlement number from our mortgage guy, so we had to dig the car out from under an ice crust and go get a big ass cashier’s check. Erik did not have fun in the bank because I wouldn’t let him lay in middle of the floor and pretend to be a baby.

We headed to the grocery store for a few essentials and things went really well until I turned around and accidentally smacked Erik in the head so hard that he flew across the aisle. It was bad. It was made worse by the Jamaican man behind us that kept telling him to be a man and quit crying. Thanks, guy! That’s what every sad three year old needs to hear (he wasn’t hurt, so much as shocked that I hit him I think).

He just can’t win today. I walked out of the bathroom later this afternoon and saw this:

My heart went to my knees and I froze. I don’t handle blood well. I couldn’t figure out why there was no screaming, but then I realized it was just paint. He knows how to get an old woman’s heart beating.

Mike is telling me I have to go to bed and I think I believe him. He’s watching a tennis match and I can’t handle all the grunting and groaning. I’ll leave you with a lovely little gem from this morning. After Erik got off the potty this morning, he looked at his results and declared in the most disgusted tone ever, “That’s not ice cream.” Ya think?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 28th, 2009 at 10:45 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.