Quite honestly it started the entire day off on the wrong foot into a big pile of dog shite. He kept saying he could drive himself in as long as I picked him up. But at the last moment he changed his mind so I had to load Matthew and Phoebe into the car straight from their cozy beds.
We get there and he now insists we go inside with him to ask exactly when we need to be back to sit with him. So we all troop in... the kids barefoot and in jammies while I myself am sporting a fabulous fro of bird's nest hair, no make-up and very unbecoming sweats. I can only imagine how horrendously white trash we must have looked to everyone.
The receptionist tells me that I need to be back in 45 minutes to sit with him in his recovery room. Oh joy... One small recovery room + two young kids= Hell.
Matty is whining to eat. I know Phoebe must be hungry as well so I run through the McDonald's drive through and get them some pancakes and oj. We run back to the house and I hurriedly throw real clothes and shoes on all of us. We now look less like white trash and more like a tribe of unkempt Gypsy ragamuffins.
We're already running about ten minutes late so I'm in a rush to get back to Kevin in time. I'm coasting down a hill about two blocks from the office, when a cop literally jumps right in front of me with his radar gun waving me to the side of the road.
Shite. Shite. Double shite. I pull over the side of the road and start trying to explain about being late to be with Kevin. The cop listens but then asks me a slew of other random questions about my address, any prior run ins with the law etc. He looked at me expectantly like I should be confessing to having a trunk of cocaine or something. I tell him my driving record is spotless besides a few random registration misunderstandings over the years my DMV account should be clear.
He checks it out and seems almost regretful that I do in fact appear to be a generally good driver. I think the wild Gypsy ragamuffin woman look I was sporting really threw him for a loop. He then goes on to lecture me for the next twenty minutes about my irresponsibility and that as a mother I should hold myself to a higher driving standard of safety. Blah blah blah. If he hadn't have been hiding shadily behind a big truck on a very steep hill where everyone involuntarily speeds up a bit everything would have been fine.
I start crying because I just want to get to Kevin. My cell phone is buzzing violently in my pocket as the receptionist leaves her fourth snooty message about how I'm incredibly late and I catch a whiff of Phoebe's diarrhea poopy diaper. All while Matty is peppering me with questions about whether I am a good driver or a bad driver.
The prick finally lets me go after issuing a court appearance ticket and I carefully drive the next two blocks and practically sprint into the Dentist office. The receptionist sneers and Kevin gives me a WTF look which makes me break down in tears again. I continue to blubber through the nurse's instructions to care for Kevin. I'm pretty sure they thought I was insane. I saw them exchanging wary looks with each other that roughly translated into "This biznitch is crazy!! I feel so bad for her cute ragamuffin kids and her poor sweet husband..."
The rest of the day was lost in a haze of whiny kids, bloody gauze, Phoebe's diarrhea and her bloody diaper rash from sitting in that dirty diaper while the dang cop lectured me.
The craptacular tales of my life...
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