That’s right. The blog is now three, which around here means it’s officially a preschooler and no longer a toddler.
I have had an eventful morning. We all got up and got Lexy off to music camp without too much fuss. Just the usual discussions over why chocolate chip cookies don’t qualify as breakfast food, and why it’s impossible to watch an episode of the Simpsons in the eight minutes we have until it’s time to head for the car. I’d given Lexy my only cash, conveniently the exact amount he needed to purchase a song book and cd to help out with his guitar learning. Before we got out of the driveway (and after the money was lost, taken by Sophie, lost again, and then finally in Lexy’s pocket) I realized two things: one; I was nearly out of gas, two; John has my atm card and the twenty he’d taken out for me yesterday and since I have no credit cards (other than my atm/visa card) I wouldn’t be able to get gas without a trip to the bank, which was not going to happen with all the kids and before 9 a.m. I made Lexy give me back the cash so I could get gas. He was crabby, but I told him I’d bring a check when I picked him up and kissed him goodbye. Then, with NO GAS TO SPARE, I found myself blocked into the parking space by the woman behind me who was chatting with her friend and would not back up to let me out. I had to make a twenty-seven point turn to get out and she was oblivious. Grrrrrr.
I drive out of the school driveway, and get a block or two, only to discover a large suv blocking my way. The street the school is on is a circle, and this was at the bend where it doubles back. After the way was clear, I started to go on my way, only to discover why the suv was turning around: lots and lots of broken glass all over the road. So, I too, turned around to head home. I passed the cop that I’d passed earlier, and thankfully he didn’t pull me over. I was certainly speeding the first time I passed him. I still had a few drops of gas left, and I had already scoped out the cheapest of the three gas stations that I’d passed on the way ($2.51.9) and was headed there, when I felt like there was a piece of fuzz in the back of my throat.
Now, I have been having this problem lately, where I feel like there’s a hair in my throat and I throw up. It’s happened about four times in a month or two. I have always had a strong gag reflex, but this is getting ridiculous. (I suspect it has something to do with having a schatzki’s ring)
Here I am, driving down the road, barfing into a disposable diaper and looking for the gas station. I had to pull over on a side street because the main road was dotted with no parking signs. The whole time I was sitting in front of someones house being very sick, the kids were asking me for stuff and wanting to know what we are going to do today. I finally got to the gas station, put in ten bucks worth, and started home. I called my mom to tell her that the place John interviewed at last month called back and wants to interview him again. They practically offered him the job in the call back. I had to hang up so I could barf. "Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant!" I yelled into the phone before hanging up. Then, at a stoplight, the van stalled. While throwing up into the diaper, I put on the hazard lights and got the van into park. It started again and I finally made it home. I really don’t want to leave the house again.
I’m hoping that was all the excitement I’m going to get today, other than finishing up the Arry-Ha Otter-Pa book.