Somewhere in the very illogical part of my brain I thought, "I'm having a baby in February, so clearly I'll be out of pocket then. In the meantime I should probably just say yes to everything I'm asked to help with."
Such a good idea...until you see how many colors I had to use on our whiteboard calendar this month and how many activities are crammed in each day's tiny box. (Why do they make the boxes so dang small, anyway? It's America, for goodness sake. We love cramming our calendars full.)
For instance, a few weeks ago I went to Jackson, MS for a PTA meeting (which was fabulous, but that's beside the point). Taylor picked me up from the airport at 6, we drove to a different terminal, and he caught his own flight at 6:30. 2 days later, I was going on a youth group retreat and had to drop Beckett off with my in-laws in the morning until Taylor came back in town to pick him up that night.
The moral of this story is a) yes, we're incredibly efficient at airports and b) we might be over committed.
But even in the craziness, funny things happen:
Mental Dog
My dog finally had that mental break we've been waiting for and ripped up both the guest and master bedroom bedding sets AND one of the couches. That in and of itself isn't super hilarious, but for some reason seeing it written out in my Bible study email made me laugh for a solid 5 minutes. The sad face might have clenched it.
Car Shame
I just had to take my car to Firestone because it doesn't start sometimes. You know...during the month where we have to be in 5 different places at any given moment...the only car that is car-seat friendly is acting a fool.
I thought they'd like tighten a bolt and send me on my way but, really, has that ever happened? No.
$833 of random crap "needs to be replaced".
I went all independent adult woman on them and told them we'd think about it and get back to them.
The only *minor* problem with my triumphant exit was that my car didn't start when I got to the parking lot. The Firestone parking lot. The parking lot of the store I had just refused service from.
Never felt more awesome in my life.
Theme Park Love
In the past few weeks I've been to a few different high school parent meetings to talk about social media. I love doing things like that with all of my heart.
But.
When it's on a high school campus, I'm always panicky I will be mistaken for a teenager and get escorted to the principal's office for skipping class. Or, currently, escorted to the guidance counselor to talk about how hard being a teen mom will be.
I opened up my last talk with that very joke - something about "My main goal here was to make it to this meeting without being mistaken for a junior..." and the parents did that kind of laugh where they laugh a little too hard and you realize that's exactly what they were thinking.
So we established that I was, in fact, an adult. I felt such a sense of accomplishment.
Until one of them asked what my husband does for a living and I answered with...
"He works for Six Flags."
It sounds obnoxious to list his full title (which is very impressive, if I may say so myself) or to go into great detail about how he's at the corporate headquarters, not an actual park, so I just leave it at "He works for Six Flags."
"Aww. A teen mom whose baby daddy works at a theme park. They probably met while he was operating the Ferris wheel during his part-time summer job. So presh."
You win some, you lose some.
Wish us luck making it through the rest of October alive. More specifically, that the other couch and the remaining blanket on our bed will stay intact. And that my car will stay alive.
If all of that fails, it's all good because baby boy #1 will continue being precious...
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