Living the Dream
I awoke this morning with a satisfied sense of accomplishment from having conquered 6 stores and nearly all our Christmas gift buying last night while our beloved babysitter watched the kids. Evan crawled into bed excited to tell me all they had done last night while we were gone including that her loose tooth fell out while she was eating dinner. WHAT?! Beloved babysitter is fired as she neglected to mention this important fact and therefore no tooth fairy visit had been arranged. After very obviously pointing this out to Andy I assumed that he would handle the tooth fairy business as he goes downstairs first (the tooth fairy visits our mantle as Evan thinks it creepy to have a stranger in her bedroom, seems like sound logic).
As I am stepping out of the shower I hear an odd but somehow familiar thumping sound…. still dripping I open the door to see what it is. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but a heaving Weimaraner barfing onto Clark’s impossible to clean chenille loop rug. So I sprint, towel in hand, downstairs with the dog and shove her outside and search frantically for the carpet spray. And my ever-multi-tasking brain thinks “tooth fairy, tooth fairy” so I take the opportunity of being alone downstairs to insure that the tooth fairy business is complete. Of course it’s not so I search around for said tooth, and after locating it dig change out of the coin bag as I gave every cent I had to the babysitter last night. The whole while Clark hollers at me from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, you fine it yet?” meaning the carpet spray.
Tooth disposed of and money on the mantle, I race back upstairs with generic glass cleaner as I can’t find the carpet spray. And still in nothing but a towel set about to clean three spots from the rug, one being the culprit of the barfing, one of my socks that by the looks of it the dog had stolen from the laundry and eaten a few days ago.
Rug cleanish, everyone dressed (Clark in his jammas for pajama day at daycare), boots, shoes, snow pants, and backpacks loaded into the car, I deliver my pop tart munchers to their respective schools, pull into one of the last parking spots at work and laugh out loud as I hustle through the ice slick in the subzero temperature, that if this is what’s called Living the Dream, I’d rather go back to sleep.
