On Friday night, all I wanted was a pizza. With an empty pantry and a long workday behind me, the thought of taking my two hungry kids to the store was utterly exhausting. So, I hopped onto Firetrail Pizza’s website, aiming to find their delivery number. From the start, I should have sensed the impending doom—after getting disconnected and rerouted twice, I discovered that the number I called was for a brewery, not a pizza place. I could have taken that as a sign to grab a beer, but I was too hungry to think straight.
As I attempted to order a pear-gorgonzola pizza, my daughter Mia erupted into tears. I picked her up, and she calmed down, but as soon as I set her down, the crying resumed. The person on the other end of the line was clearly annoyed. Desperate for my pizza, I barricaded myself in the bedroom to finalize the order, feeling like I was in a zoo, afraid I might have accidentally ordered something horrid like olives—yuck!
Twenty minutes turned into forty, and just when I thought I was getting closer to dinner, I realized my order hadn’t even gone through. Frustrated, I placed a new order for Thai food. A scathing Yelp review about that pizza was definitely in my future. By the time we ate, it was nearly three hours after my initial call. Where’s my dinner? At this point, I figured I might as well just have some wine. I could have sworn my glass was right here. But it could always be worse.
Saturday started with my grumpy, teething toddler opting to sabotage our breakfast instead of eating the food I prepared. She clung to me like a koala, wailing in my ear. All I craved was a moment of peace and a hot cup of coffee.
My five-year-old, Lily, decided to sit in maple syrup while wearing her ballet outfit, arriving late to dance class with a sticky bottom. When she opened her dance bag, she discovered she forgot her tap shoes. But the show must go on, right? I snuck off to a nearby cafe with my toddler in tow, craving that latte.
At the counter, as I placed my order, the barista began to whip up my drink. I slid my credit card into the reader and took a sip of the latte. “Your card has been declined,” the cashier informed me. I tried my debit card, hoping for a miracle. I was in desperate need of caffeine after the chaos of the past two days. My paycheck had just hit my account. There was no reason for this.
While I stood to the side, trying to call my bank, Bee began tugging on my leg, tears streaming down her face. As I turned to soothe her, my keys and credit card slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor. I thought about having a tantrum myself. As I bent down to gather my daughter and my belongings, I heard a rip and felt a draft. The entire cafe got an uninvited glimpse of my floral underwear. But I wasn’t leaving without that coffee. I awkwardly scooted to the wall, grabbed my latte, and imagined Lily’s face when I finally picked her up.
Arriving late at the ballet studio, I moonwalked to the car, trying to avoid eye contact with the teacher as if I were hiding from paparazzi. Clearly, I should have just stayed home. But the day had to continue.
Later, we had swim lessons and a birthday party to attend. At the pool, Lily ignored the instructor’s commands, and I watched my cash fly down the drain. After some coaxing, she finally finished her class, and we ventured to Target for a birthday present.
After shopping, we headed to the wrong birthday party. Lucy’s house was empty, and I felt tears welling up. Bee was overdue for a nap and was crying, making the moment worse. The actual party was 20 minutes away, and I thought we could still make it. I didn’t know the parents, but I was determined not to miss this chance. We arrived 35 minutes late to Jake’s party, only to realize it was Halloween-themed, and we were dressed entirely wrong.
On Sunday, we finally made it to the right birthday party with the correct gift, but the heat was unbearable. Bee melted down and we left early. Back at home, I attempted to prepare for the week but was thwarted again when Bee refused to get in the car for groceries, throwing a tantrum in the driveway.
Monday couldn’t come soon enough. I dropped Lily off at dance camp, feeling grateful that there were no sticky messes today. When I returned to my car, I tugged on the handle—it was locked. I had left my keys in Lily’s dance bag. I had to interrupt her class to retrieve them, feeling all the eyes of the room on me. I rushed back to the car, only to realize I’d also left my phone in her bag.
After a chaotic day, I picked Lily up, and she changed in the backseat. I placed my phone on the roof of the car—big mistake. As I drove off, I heard a loud THUNK. It wasn’t until I reached the office that I realized my phone had become a casualty of the day, left somewhere on the streets of Petaluma. Petaluma, enjoy my expensive phone; you must need it more than I do. At least I still had my wine.
If you relate to these kinds of weekends, you might want to check out this blog post for more insights. Also, for anyone looking to boost their fertility, Make a Mom offers some great advice. Lastly, if you’re navigating pregnancy and home insemination, News Medical is an excellent resource.
Summary:
This weekend was a rollercoaster of chaos, from a pizza order disaster to forgetting keys and phones. The challenges of parenting two young kids led to numerous mishaps, highlighting the unpredictable nature of family life. Despite the frustrations, there’s always a silver lining to be found.
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