Please Kill Me Now
Today my older boys had their art class. I am wondering if the teacher isn't quite as enthused as she used to be about all the "boy energy" because she shortened the class to only one hour and 15 minutes, down from 2 hours. I needed to go to Home Depot and had planned to go during their class so that I didn't have to take everyone. But, the shortened class made that plan impossible.
So we dropped them off and came back home to play outside in yard for a bit. Then it was on to Home Depot, at 4:00 in the afternoon. A time which any parent knows is the beginning of the witching hour. It is so NOT the time to begin running errands.
Rob was supposed to pick the window up this past weekend, but didn't feel like waiting around forever while they brought it from the storage area to the front desk. Oooookay, sounds like a much better idea for *me* to wait around forever with children. Not like they will act up and get into things and knock over displays or anything.
They bring the window up to the front desk and I marvel at the sheer size of this window. It is HUGE. I knew how big it was going to be since I measured and ordered it, but I have no firm grasp of spatial relationships. I went to Home Depot with no doubt in my mind that this window would fit into the back of my van. Afterall, the van is enormous, we know people in NYC who live in apartments that have less square footage.
But standing there looking at the window in person I realize that this most likely will not fit into our van. I should have aborted the mission right there, but I was still hopeful.
And so I waited for someone to help me bring this window to the van. And waited. And waited. After 15 minutes I asked again when the man was going to come and put the window in my van only to be told that the lot boy would be in to work in 10 more minutes. Clearly customer service is not a high priority at this Home Depot, since there was a group of orange aproned men standing around talking and laughing while I stood there. I pointed over to them and asked if any of those able-bodied men could help only to be told that they worked in the departments and were here to assist customers inside the store. Yes, it did appear they were doing that.
After an eternity had passed and my children had earned and been given their awards as the poster children for birth control, an actual employee of the store came to bring the window to my van.
To make a long painful story short, it would not fit. No way. No how. Even if I strapped a few kids to the roof.
So back into the store with the window we go. Oh the fun just never ends.
Rob will have to go get the window himself this weekend afterall. Poor guy. I hope they don't make him wait long. (yes, that is sarcasm)
And because I have obvious masochistic tendencies, we headed over to Wal-Mart. My 3 yr old decided today to be a fireman for Halloween. I already had the costume in our big bin of costumes, but the hat that came with it was way too small. I never thought he had a freakishly large head for his size, but the hat looked like a doll hat perched atop his big melon head.
I would have laughed over it, but he was very upset and screaming that we needed to buy a new one that fit him. I thought for sure Wal-mart would have a plastic one.
Strike two for me today.
Not only did they not have one, I had to deal with a 3 yr old tantruming through the store that he needed a fireman hat. I tried to convince him that another costume might be nice, like the nice red dragon one. But he is stubborn and three years old, and therefore devoid of any reasoning ability.
I put it in the cart anyway as a back-up costume since it was pretty cute and cheap enough. And as we walked through the store, in search of item number three we needed, he kept grabbing it and throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.
I just kept pushing my cart, smiling, trying to appear composed and in control. Most likely though I looked like some sort of lunatic.
And item number 3 was a bust as well. There were no more pumpkin carving kits to be found. Sigh. So now it will be me, my kitchen knife, and my pitiful imagination.
Strike 3. I know when to go home.
But not before I drop $100 on stuff I didn't know I needed. It's like a cover charge. Only instead of paying to get in like a bar, you have to pay to leave.
And now I am sitting watching baseball with my boys, trying hard to be properly enthused, cheering and high-fiving since Rob is away. But boy I find it hard to get excited about sporting events when I'd much rather be in bed reading, yes even if it is the Red Sox.
So we dropped them off and came back home to play outside in yard for a bit. Then it was on to Home Depot, at 4:00 in the afternoon. A time which any parent knows is the beginning of the witching hour. It is so NOT the time to begin running errands.
Rob was supposed to pick the window up this past weekend, but didn't feel like waiting around forever while they brought it from the storage area to the front desk. Oooookay, sounds like a much better idea for *me* to wait around forever with children. Not like they will act up and get into things and knock over displays or anything.
They bring the window up to the front desk and I marvel at the sheer size of this window. It is HUGE. I knew how big it was going to be since I measured and ordered it, but I have no firm grasp of spatial relationships. I went to Home Depot with no doubt in my mind that this window would fit into the back of my van. Afterall, the van is enormous, we know people in NYC who live in apartments that have less square footage.
But standing there looking at the window in person I realize that this most likely will not fit into our van. I should have aborted the mission right there, but I was still hopeful.
And so I waited for someone to help me bring this window to the van. And waited. And waited. After 15 minutes I asked again when the man was going to come and put the window in my van only to be told that the lot boy would be in to work in 10 more minutes. Clearly customer service is not a high priority at this Home Depot, since there was a group of orange aproned men standing around talking and laughing while I stood there. I pointed over to them and asked if any of those able-bodied men could help only to be told that they worked in the departments and were here to assist customers inside the store. Yes, it did appear they were doing that.
After an eternity had passed and my children had earned and been given their awards as the poster children for birth control, an actual employee of the store came to bring the window to my van.
To make a long painful story short, it would not fit. No way. No how. Even if I strapped a few kids to the roof.
So back into the store with the window we go. Oh the fun just never ends.
Rob will have to go get the window himself this weekend afterall. Poor guy. I hope they don't make him wait long. (yes, that is sarcasm)
And because I have obvious masochistic tendencies, we headed over to Wal-Mart. My 3 yr old decided today to be a fireman for Halloween. I already had the costume in our big bin of costumes, but the hat that came with it was way too small. I never thought he had a freakishly large head for his size, but the hat looked like a doll hat perched atop his big melon head.
I would have laughed over it, but he was very upset and screaming that we needed to buy a new one that fit him. I thought for sure Wal-mart would have a plastic one.
Strike two for me today.
Not only did they not have one, I had to deal with a 3 yr old tantruming through the store that he needed a fireman hat. I tried to convince him that another costume might be nice, like the nice red dragon one. But he is stubborn and three years old, and therefore devoid of any reasoning ability.
I put it in the cart anyway as a back-up costume since it was pretty cute and cheap enough. And as we walked through the store, in search of item number three we needed, he kept grabbing it and throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.
I just kept pushing my cart, smiling, trying to appear composed and in control. Most likely though I looked like some sort of lunatic.
And item number 3 was a bust as well. There were no more pumpkin carving kits to be found. Sigh. So now it will be me, my kitchen knife, and my pitiful imagination.
Strike 3. I know when to go home.
But not before I drop $100 on stuff I didn't know I needed. It's like a cover charge. Only instead of paying to get in like a bar, you have to pay to leave.
And now I am sitting watching baseball with my boys, trying hard to be properly enthused, cheering and high-fiving since Rob is away. But boy I find it hard to get excited about sporting events when I'd much rather be in bed reading, yes even if it is the Red Sox.
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