At Least They're Committed

Walking around the block, Dez, you and I were charged by a pit bull. The dog looked friendly enough but I’m not fool enough to count on that. I snatched you under your arms and within a millisecond had you hoisted onto my shoulders. The dog was quite friendly, but it certainly got my blood running. Eventful!

It was only the beginning. Before we set out today I’d put your grandpa in charge of the iPhone maps and after I asked him to let me know when I was close to the street he admitted he didn’t know how to use it and it hadn’t been working the whole time so we had to backtrack for 15 mins and then I turned right when I should have turned left and I circled back, but I was frazzled by then and — despite my best intentions of not letting anything get to me — I had a screaming meltdown, your grandpa screamed at me for screaming and then I hit the curb pulling up to the party.

You had a great time at the party! You hopped right into the kiddie pool with your clothes on (we didn’t know there’d be a pool) and splashed around for a good hour. The clouds rolled over, the wind started to blow, and your little lips were blue and you were shivering, but I still had a bitch of a time getting you to come out of there! You did play on the slide some and wander toward the garden. You sat on your grandpa’s lap while I shuttled him and you chips and burgers and more burgers and more chips.

The party was adorable! A very beloved little girl and her cousin, Kayla, and other cousin, Grayson were as precious as can be. But it was time to get you warm and dry and to go. The sky was spitting rain and you had to be exhausted.

. . . Except the tire was flat where I’d hit the curb. I started to cry and it started to pour. Uncle Terry changed the tire, I stood by because I didn’t want to add weight as he was using the jack, you were secure and semi-dry in your car seat. But the spare wasn’t aired up well, either. Plus it was just one of those doughnut ones. So I was hugely apprehensive as I started to drive; hoping the minimal air would hold to a gas station.

I limped it to one station — no air pump — we got flat fix or something from Autozone. That helped a little, so I limped farther along and your grandpa kept saying we needed a gas station and finally I saw one, but it was confusing to get to and when the road finally rounded that way . . . it was closed and locked up.

Screaming breakdown No. 2. But, lo! By now I knew where I was, so I pulled a U and crept into the parking lot at Exempla Good Samaritan, where I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time these past months. Your Uncle Dante and his girlfriend, Becky, brought the van and got us. I clumsily crawled over the second seat into the back. You were ornery as all get out because you were exhausted.

I just peaked in on you; it’s 9:30 p.m. You’re still crashed out. What a day! What a day! I didn’t realize how drenched I was until I had you safe and asleep and I laid down on my bed. This time I was the one quivering with the chills.

I guess I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I screamed. You chided me from the back seat, “Mama! Mama!” I’ll do better tomorrow. I’ve just realized that I’m going to have to make things as simple as possible, no more driving to new places or doing the extra things. Gotta make it through the day. Simple as that.

I’ll get the tire fixed tomorrow. I’ll jump Dexter again in case I need to use him. I’ll mow the lawns. That’s all. That’s all.