I think the only way I’m going to get over this morning is by sharing it with you turkeys.
It started out all perfect coziness in bed with my snuggly little son curled up next to me, sucking on a binky and clutching onto 3 others. I didn’t even chastise myself for allowing him to have pacifiers when he’s nearly 3 – I spared myself, and just let the endorphins fly through my brain.
Then – and here’s what I’m pretty sure set off the chain of events that left me reeling- I drank a cup of iced Tazo cucumber white tea. It was good, and I even tweeted about it. Proof:
But guess what? Since it wasn’t my usual iced green tea, I altered my universal path for the day and caused some sort of explosive craziness to happen. It started at the gym, where I was forced to use a recumbent bike instead of my beloved treadmill. You see, I am suffering from ankle tendinitis currently (self-diagnosed), and recumbent bikes are what the internet says to do as an alternative to real exercise.
So I sat on my ass, pumping my legs around, and it was BORING. I entertained myself by making loud fake farting noises whenever someone walked in front of me, and twice I pretended to fall asleep, with my head lolling back and loud, dramatic snores swirling forth. I wondered if recumbent biking would actually cause your ass to grow larger instead of smaller, from all that sitting.
Next were the machines and then the locker room, at which point I realized I forgot to pack 1 flip flop. I think I dodged all of the flesh-eating bacteria from the shower floor, but afterwards I saw that I had forgotten to pack underwear and my brush. Ignoring the underwear problem, I “finger-dried” my hair which gave it a “beachy”, “tousled” look, and I collected my children.
Off to the grocery store, the place where dreams are made. After scoring one of the tastiest iced green teas of my life, the children and I proceeded to gather the contents on my Ziplist. (Oh my god I love this app.)
During the next 20 minutes in the store, this happened in pretty quick succession:
Beckett squeezed strawberry milk all over the floor, followed by Fen dropping her chocolate milk all over the floor. She skipped off to find napkins, so B and I waited. As I was picking out some goods I needed from that aisle, I heard B’s tiny cartoon voice yelling, Woah! wook at dat butt! Wook at dat. Butt!
I turned my head to find him standing behind a woman, pointing directly at her butt. She turned around, her hand on her advertised body part, and spat out a nervous laugh/yell as she looked from Beckett to me.
My eyes widened to the size of little moons, my mouth gaped open, and I mumbled that I was sorry as I pulled Beckett away. I hope she didn’t think I was apologizing because of the size of her ass. Then I stared at the wall of flour as I tried to force my eyes back to normal, and that’s when I started laughing really loudly. While staring at the flour. Standing next to a large puddle of chocolate milk. With my hair that I finally understood looked more “psychotic” than “beachy”. It was awesome.
For the rest of the trip, Beckett thought it would be pretty fun to knock as many groceries as he could off of shelves. Fen tried in vain to untangle a small plastic slinky, and every time it became more tangled, she would take out her rage on it in another loud, fitful way, eventually whipping it to the floor and stomping on it.
Next, I dropped a can of peaches on the ground, and when Fen tried to put it back for me, she knocked 2 more cans onto the floor and we laughed. I laughed a little too loudly because I was relieved she was through being pissy, plus I still had some of the nervous adrenaline from the butt incident left. Plus, I wasn’t sure whether or not all 3 of us had suffered minor brain damage on the way in the store somehow.
Naturally, the checkout lines were 85 people long, so we opted to do the self checkout, at which I am quite adept. Except when somebody short keeps leaning on the groceries and throws off the weight a bunch of times, resulting in getting the old side-eye/lip-purse from the checkout monitor lady.
Now it’s 5pm and I keep thinking it’s about 4 hours earlier, and Friday instead of Thursday.
Now it’s 8pm and I’m trying to figure out some graceful way to wrap up this post, but instead I’ll tell you this: I have a small item stuck in my throat, and I’m pretty sure it’s the tiny bit of fingernail that I pulled off earlier with my teeth.