Today was a rainy Tuesday morning, which was unfortunate because I was convinced for a good half-hour that it was already Wednesday. And being one day behind your mental calendar doesn’t bode well for your week, ya know??
Rainy days are the worst; there’s something about weeping clouds that causes my kids to get ornery (then again, maybe they get that from their mom, who also dislikes rainy days…).
It began with my eyes opening to #1 shaking me awake to ask for a ride to school…. in three minutes. She normally walks, or gets a ride from The Captain, who leaves at the same time. Thinking he had already left, I got up, grabbed my shoes & keys, & walked into the kitchen to see… The Captain.
Me: “WHY did you ask me when your dad’s here?!”
#1: “Because Dad’s music in the car is lame.”
I flung the keys onto my bed, (more on THAT later) & #1 was dispatched with the parent with uncool musical taste, for a drive of FOUR BLOCKS.
The Captain’s parting words as they headed out the door,
“Oh, and can you pick up coffee creamer? We just ran out. Bye.”
There are few pleasures I embrace in life, but my coffee, with creamer, is one of them. And this despicable hogging of the creamer is an ongoing debate in our house, as evidenced by my tweets of desperation & despair:
And then again….
The other five were grumpy and moving slowly. I had to keep pushing everyone along to stay on task, & no one was happy. BUT- we were all ready to leave the house just in time for school.
Well, we were ready to leave on time, but we didn’t leave on time, because we couldn’t leave on time.
Because the keys were MIA.
The last time I thought I saw them were in #3’s hand yesterday when he grabbed his backpack from the car. Under this misconception, we all grumbled and searched as the minutes clicked by on the clock.
And then it hit me…. I had last had my keys. And threw them in annoyance on my bed.
So we dashed off to school, late, soggy, and silent. I returned home feeling out of sorts- overworked, rushed, and irritated at everything.
When I got home, there was something on the counter that I’d missed in my rush. It must have been brought home from school yesterday & removed from a backpack earlier.
It’s a hat. With flowers. And it reads, “I’m a crackpot” (like that clears things up for you, huh?)
I can tell that it’s #2’s. But SO many unanswered questions….
- Does she even KNOW what that means?
- Why with flowers?
- Was it actually worn?
- What lesson was learned in school with this?
- How could it not have come up in conversation???
But it made me laugh. SO HARD. Because #2 IS a crackpot, in the best sense of the word. And thinking about how funny my kids are, & how much enjoyment I get from being around them instantly put me in a better mood.
Well, this helped, too:
#6 snatched up the hat & popped it on, & if there’s anyone else in this house that’s a crackpot, it’s THIS guy.
And he insisted on wearing it out to the stores. And I let him, because instead of gloom and doom, today’s motto is:
“Less crank, more crack(pot)*”
*Disclaimer: Crackpot meaning fun, crazy, wild. Not crackpot meaning “smoking crack on the streets”, because as Whitney said, “Crack is whack”.
And letting your kid wear a hat promoting their crack use would be nuts. Then again, if your 3 year old has a crack habit, maybe you’ve got more problems than worrying about him/her wearing a crackpot hat out in public.© Copyright 2016 Six Pack Mom, All rights Reserved. Written For: Six Pack Mom