Of Bathtubs and Shamrock Shakes

Have you ever had two of those days?  Yesterday on the spur of the moment I quickly assembled a sack lunch, threw everyone in the van and headed 45 minutes due east to a beautiful river access spot we like.  Did I mention it was raining?

I have been trying to be a more fun mom, building great memories with the kids rather than just trudging through the endless "have-to's" in my life.

So the kids poured out of the van and we couldn't believe how beautiful it was at the river.  The clouds were puffy and picturesque, very Constable-like.  The sun was shining, and the Sierra Rescue team was suiting up to practice right by us.  We were all thrilled!  For about thirty minutes.  Still, when the sky began to drop thick and meaty raindrops on us, we laughed at ourselves and the mud-soaked two-year-old who had to be stripped and dressed in my sweater for the ride home.

Silly as this sounds, I had made it my goal to take them all for Shamrock Shakes before they disappeared from the McDonald's menu.  The first stop to order seven Shamrock Shakes was a bust, so we drove on until we found a McDonald's that wasn't already out of them.

By the time we returned home, my red-sweater-clad toddler was covered in green milkshake, as was her carseat.  No big deal; I swooped her out of the car and quickly upstairs for a bath.  Then I took the carseat up the stairs as it dripped green stuff all the way to the top. I threw the carseat in the laundry room sink when I heard the little one yelling, "Mommy! Ick! Icky, Mommy!" and her sibling assigned to watching her in the bath accompanying her cries with, "M-o-o-o-m-m-m!  She just pooped in the bath!"

Did I mention I had a turkey sitting on the kitchen counter waiting to be put in the oven? Oh, and it was 3 p.m.  And guess what?  In the middle of all this commotion our pastor's daughter had let herself into the house, followed the yells and found me to announce that she had brought us dinner from her mom. Just when we think we're at our limit, God provides.

And today, when the Sheriff showed up to check on the house alarm that had gone off while we were away and I was - ahem - stuck in the bathroom, I just couldn't imagine being any more embarrassed.  The bathroom is roughly ten feet from the front door.  Where he was waiting.  And waiting. 

It has been two of those days.  Still, no one is bleeding to death, no one is perilously close to disaster.  And the turkey is in the oven.