Actually, it was starting with last night. Usually I stay up until 11:30 pm so I can take of Wheeler's needs, and then I go to sleep after that. Last night however, I was so tired that I fell asleep at 9:30 pm and then I had to wake up at 11 pm to take care of Wheeler. It was TORTURE. I must have just fallen into deep coma-like sleep right before that because it felt like he was talking to me down into a deep, dark hole. He kept asking me to get up and cath (for the quadriplegic uninitiated: take a pee for) him and to get him something to eat. I just could. not. get. up. It was awful. Then he gave up asking me and he BIT MY HAIR WITH HIS TEETH AND PULLED. @#(*%&***#)())!%+@ That really ticked me off!! I snapped at him "DON'T BITE MY HAIR" and then I stayed in bed even longer to teach him a lesson. I cannot believe that he pulled my hair with his teeth! After I finally did get up, I made it perfectly crystal clear that pulling my hair was never, ever, ever, ever going to happen again. Or he'd be a dead man. And I 90% mean it!!!! Boy, that made me mad.
So that started it last night, then this morning, I poured myself a nice big glass of cold, delicious milk. As I was helping Small Boy put his shoes on for school, I told him "watch out for mama's milk on the table". He then promptly kicked it over (accidentally). Trying to follow the motto about not crying over split milk, I calmly got a towel and cleaned it up. Got more milk. All is well again.
When I got back from delivering Small Boy to school, I made a hot steaming pot of coffee to drink while I worked on a proposal. Ahhhhhh. Smelled so good. Tasted so good! I put my coffee on the same (damn) table as my milk had been earlier. About then, my computer battery waved a white flag asked for reinforcements. So I got the charger cord, bent in between the couch and the table ......... and my coffee spilled. This time, not only all over the floor, but also all over me. Sigh.
I was then late to my son's "parents day" at school. He had told me breathlessly the night before that he really wanted me to come. I told him of course I would be there! Then I was 20 mins late into a 40 minute event (lunch and a small "program"). At least I saw the program, but I felt like a total slouch / bad / slacker mom. He begged me to take him home from lunch and feeling so bad about being late, I agreed. At this point, for some reason I started getting really, really itchy hives all over the place. I have been getting these alot lately and have no idea why. So I was itching like a maniac and needed to get to a pharmacy ASAP to get something to help. Small Boy, knowing I was in a hurry, chose then to annoy me and refused to get in his seat. It took 10 l...o...n....g minutes to get him buckled in, whilst I am scratching like a dog with fleas - alot of fleas.
Then my luck turned, Target was the closest place and we went there. The parking lot was stuffed full so I turned to go down the aisle to the way far back when suddenly, there it was. IT. THE FRONT PARKING SPACE. As in the very first one after the handicapped parking. I whipped my little car in and hopped out with pep in my step. I am one of THOSE people now! People who occupy that very front space, the people who are always there and you wonder who they are, how they got that spot (maybe they came at 4 am and waited for the store to open?). I am now one of them, the brother/sisterhood of primo parking spaces.
So I haven't had any more good luck today but I'll take just that. This is how I know my life is just a little too dull. When I write an entire paragraph about getting the front parking space.
Oh, by the way, my body is a patchwork quilt of pink calamine right now. It is very fetching on me. I need to get my pink purse out to match my skin.
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