Yesterday was Monday. Not my favorite day of the week, but I happen to have a job that I enjoy 94% of the time, so I woke up excited to get my day started. That lasted for about 2 hours. By 9:30am, I was debating hiding under my desk or locking myself in the bathroom for the remaining 6 hours of my work day. I like to think of myself as Olivia Pope. I am the fixer at work. Someone has a question or a problem or needs some help, they come to me. I know who to call for help with most things, I know where we keep almost everything, and I generally have my finger on the pulse of most things on the horizon. I am a fixer.
I like being a fixer. Except for when I cannot fix something. Yesterday, I couldn’t fix anything. Every project I was in the middle of at work figuratively went up in flames. I was the bearer of bad news most of the day, and while I wasn’t actually shot for being the messenger, I did not escape completely unscathed. There were wounds that will take a while to heal, but eventually, they will scab over and we can move on with our lives.
Ready to put the day behind me, I grabbed Clark from daycare and went home to intercept Ryan and head to my happy place; Target. As I pulled into the driveway, Ryan met me outside to tell me that the house was completely dark and getting warm, as we had no power. Being the smart guy he is, he told me that it probably wasn’t a great idea to get groceries since we were unsure of when our fridge would be up and running.Trying to make lemonade out of some powerless lemons, we headed to Olive Garden – my favorite!
We have found recently that our almost 2 year old is not a fan of eating. Ever. Unless it is a chobani greek yogurt or a banana, meal time is a battle of epicproportions and strong wills at our house. He does love his carbs, just like his momma, so pasta and bread felt like our best shot. Once seated and settled, Clark took it upon himself to loudly greet all who were within 20 feet of us, multiple times. ‘HI!’ ‘Hiiiiii! ‘Hi!’. Repeatedly. When not assaulting the restaurant with ‘hi’s, he passed the time by pointing at everyone’s food and signing ‘eat’. When we offered him the menu pairings, his only response was ‘No!’ Clark do you want ravioli? No! Do you want chicken? No! Do you want 8 million dollars in exchange for 3 peaceful bites of food? NO!
Gluttons for punishment, we ordered in spite of the prolonged hunger strike, and offered him many different flavors. The only three things he would willfully consume without screaming his head off? Tomatoes, black olives, and French fries. Not completely dissimilar to his mother’s palate. He also gleefully stuck his finger into the ketchup and licked it off. Hey – it’s kind of a vegetable. Also not eating was my husband, who was now 6 shades of pale and gingerly touching the side of his mouth. He was experiencing tooth/nerve/mouth pain and was visibly distraught. Being the fixer I am, I called every dentist’s office I could find, asking each if there was any way they could see him immediately. After several calls, one very nice lady told me to get him to the office by 5pm and they would treat him. Perfect! I hung up, looked at my phone, saw that it was 4:56 and did some quick math. 1 toddler, 3 plates to box up, 1 check to receive and pay, plus 1 toddler being buckled into a 5 point harness, and 15 minutes of cross town traffic. Carry the 1. No. Can’t make all that happen in 4 minutes.
Ryan assured me that he could wait 24 hours to be seen, and would get some medicine if I took him home. So, we went home. Ryan got Clark out of the car and my job was to unlock the door. We have 2 doors – a regular door and then a glass storm door. The glass storm door, as you would imagine, is the one closest to the outside. Said storm door locks and unlocks, but only from the inside. There is no key hole on the outside. And wouldn’t you know it – we accidentally locked that door when we left for dinner. So now we are locked out of the house that still has no power. And short of our dog having opposable thumbs and half a brain (She’s sweet and we love her, but she has neither of these things), there is nobody on the inside who can help us get in. Oh, it’s also somehow 90* in late September in the Midwest. Perfect. Clark and I sat in the car and I gave him a stationary driving lesson, crazy hair, and a demonstration of selfies with the a/c blasting (Growing up in the desert taught me a thing or two about how to survive the heat during power outages!), while my husband took various tools from the shed and attempted to break into our own house.
Get the man a mask, a bag with money signs on it, and a wrench, and he could have a future as a very successful burglar, because he broke in, people! Clark and I followed him into the hot, dark house, and I had no more than shut the door when I heard a very eery sound. I turn around, look outside, and there is 40 mph winds, pouring rain, and every trash bin on our street is skiing into the alley when 90 seconds prior, the sun was shining. Oh good, it’s the apocalypse. That’s really the only thing missing from this day.
Mercifully, the storm only lasted a few minutes, we have sweet friends who took us in for the evening, and when we returned home, the power had been restored, and the house was on its way to cooling down. We went to bed and greeted Tuesday with fresh eyes. Unfortunately, Tuesday was just a second Monday involving a broken phone and (unrelated) dog pee, but we have high hopes for surviving Wednesday!
