Hubs has been gone, and, stupidly, I decided that I absolutely had to go to the gym tonight. I felt fat. I was stressed. At the time, it seemed like a great idea.
So I picked up the wee ones, plied them with cereal bars, and off we went. Checked them into the playroom, no problem.
But then -- the departure. Oh ye gods.
At the front desk, as I turned in my locker key, Tootie said, "Mama, I need a drink," prompting E-man to chant, "Cup! Cup!"
So I bought bottled water, E-man took a swig, and then shrieked as though I had poured battery acid down his throat.
He screamed all the way out into the parking lot. He screamed as I buckled him into his seat belt. And I'm thinking, "OK, he's tired. This was just too much. I should have just gone straight home."
And then, just to dot the exlamation point, my sweet baby boy hurled his binky into the front seat.
Waaah! Waaah!
Mama, why is Etan crying?
Waah! Waah!
Mama, he's being loud.
Waah! Waah!
We pulled into the driveway and I swear, upon a dozen binkeys, no matter how fat I feel, I will never, ever attempt this again.
(How many days until Friday?)
No comments:
Post a Comment