Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Best laid plans

So. After vascilating all morning about whether to make the schlep to storytime or not, I finally decided with about ten minutes to spare that we ABSOLUTELY HAD TO GO.

While sitting on the floor stuffing enough Bum Genius diapers for Wesley to make it through the next several hours (because we have to make cloth diapers work again), I made Charlie take off the flannel pajamas he insisted I put on over his clothes this morning (well, I was only successful in removing the pants, resulting in a sort of grunge toddler look--athletic shorts and a t-shirt, with a flannel shirt on top, sort of Kurt Cobain meets Thomas the Tank Engine), and crammed his shoes on. I picked up Wesley from the kitchen where he was screaming in his car seat when Charlie came in carrying some toy that was too big to take with us. I told him to go put it back and turned to take (screaming, despite being recently fed, burped, and changed) Wesley out to the car. Charlie walked under Wesley's carseat and bonked his head, hard. Determined to get Charlie to storytime, the pinnacle of wholesome magical and intellectually stimulating childhood fun, I chirped "Ooops! I'm so sorry that happened, Buddy!" then unceremoniously stuffed him into his carseat with a perfunctory kiss on the general area of his head where he was gesturing.

We pulled out into the rain and headed up the street. The crying stopped (from both parties) and I started to feel proud of myself for getting out so fast. I even considered driving all the way to the "good" storytime downtown with Ms. Elizabeth (lots of songs in English and Spanish, sign language, books, bubbles) instead of the less awesome, more punative local storytime where they shut the door right at 10:15 and don't let anyone new in (where I could barely concentrate on the story for all the mothers talking to eachother). "This isn't so hard," I thought, "I am just as fun as I used to be." Even more fun maybe, since I now frequently remove my shirt in public.

We arrived at the library with ten minutes to spare and I found a parking spot right next to the door. Woo hoo! I was about to get out of the car when another mother gestured at me. I smiled politely and waved back. She waved more forcefully and said something I couldn't hear. I waved back. Finally she came to my window and told me that the library was closed for Veterans' Day. Awesome.

Charlie was whining "Books? Books? Stories?" as I pulled out of the parking lot. He didn't fully recover until I took him out for a pancake brunch on the way home.

7 comments:

LL said...

Hahaha, classic.

We should find a library with a story time near us, Landon loves circle time at his daycare so I'm sure he'd love it in larger form.

AJU5's Mom said...

Did you at least get something accomplished since you already had both kids out of the house? I hate Tuesday holidays that aren't observed by most of the world so you forget about them!

Kyla said...

I've had that happen to me. What a waste of amazing dedication and preparation.

Sarah said...

I cannot make it out the door fast, no matter what the circumstances. Also? Story time? It turns Harry into a raving beast of a child-- we've tried the library, B&N, Borders, and Starbucks-- all terrible for him. I don't know why-- he likes books at home-- he goes to other classes-- all the other kids have a good time. I dunno.

Kirsten said...

So sad!!!! Gotta love the government. I only wish I had HALF the holidays they get!

sarah said...

argh!!! I don't even bother with story time anymore; my child will not hold still and I end up being "that" mom.

Congrats on getting them both out of the house in such an efficient manner, though. I'm rarely on time these days, and I've only got the one.

apathy lounge said...

Ah, yes! Pancakes are the great salve to any wounded soul. Also, great for hangovers, but I'm not saying that I've ever experienced it firsthand.