James and Mary stayed home from school today because James has a super gross rash on his face and yesterday when I picked him up they said, in polite hippie tones, that I might want to get that checked out by a doctor, like PRONTO, and please don't bring him back until you do. Mary is unaffected, but taking three kids to school to drop off/pick up one kid seems like a lot of effort. We saw the doctor, it's impetigo. Do not Google this. Trust me. He's on oral and topical antibiotics and if that doesn't work we'll send him to the local leper colony until he recovers.
ANYWAY, it was pretty nice outside when I picked the kids up from school and everyone seemed like they had excess energy to burn off, so we went to a playground on the way home. I KNOW. Who do I think I am? A mother of two? I don't know if James and Mary even know that a playground is something that exists outside of school. Certainly not Mary. The one I chose has a large grassy area with a track for running next to it and a pavilion with a roof and benches for me and Mary, so I thought we could kill a couple of hours hanging out and then talk Ryan into meeting at a Mexican food place for dinner.
We'd been there for forty-five seconds when James first had to go to the bathroom. I had him go in the grass sort of off to the side in some bushes. Problem solved.
A few minutes later everyone was playing happily when James decided to jump from one of the climbing platforms, onto the mulch, barefoot. Once he did it he started screaming and limped the rest of the day. It seemed to be better right after dinner, but we'll see?
Next, another boy pushed Wes so crazy on the tire swing that Wes started sobbing and had to be held like a baby for several minutes.
I finally sat down in the shade when Mary started screaming. Poopy diaper. Rash. Misery. Fortunately, I had ONE LAST DIAPER in the car and MIRACULOUSLY, there were some wipes too. There are never wipes! Score! I got her cleaned up then returned to the bench.
And then James told me that he had to poop. RIGHT NOW!! Did I mention that there was no bathroom there? And getting in the car and driving home would have taken too long? Normally I would just slap one of Mary's diapers on him and told him to do his best to make it home, but I had just used the LAST DIAPER. I looked around. We were all alone. So I had him poop behind a tree then picked it up with a courtesy dog poo bag and threw it in the trash can. Top five of the most disgusting things I've ever done.
Three minutes later, Wes and the kid from the tire swing, whom Wes had forgiven by this point, gleefully ran down a steep embankment on their way to the open field adjacent to the playground and ATE IT at the bottom. Screaming. Tears. Blood. Refusal to walk or stand up. I left Mary standing up hanging onto a picnic table and ran down the hill to retrieve him and carry his fifty pound frame back up the hill to the pavilion where he refused to use his legs.
Everyone was hot and tired and hanging around ME, so I called James over and said it was time to go. James ran happily over to me and said "Mama, look what's stuck to my shirt!!" I looked down and saw a hornet the size of a songbird clinging to his chest. Holy. Crap.
"Is that a... bee?" I asked stupidly to no one in particular?
Charley's eyes got huge. YES. OH YES THAT'S A BEE. He helped James remain calm by yelling "DON'T MOVE OR SCREAM. IF YOU MAKE IT ANGRY IT WILL STING YOU AND THEN YOU COULD DIE."
I freaking hate freaking bees.
Armed with a half-sheet of paper from Mary's diaper bag, I ran over to James, who was starting to freak out, somehow managing to control the SERIOUS heebie jeebies I had going on. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I didn't want to make it mad because the stinger was like eight inches long and James is so CUTE AND LITTLE. The bee just clung to his shirt like a bad Homecoming date while James whimpered nervously and Charley yelled about anaphylaxis. With horror I wondered if it was actually STUCK to his shirt which would have meant I had to TOUCH IT, which NO.
Several seconds of deliberation later I decided the best plan would be to be flap my hands ineffectually while shrieking and dancing around. Eventually I got close enough that the hornet knew I meant business and flew away.
And then we went home, closed and locked all the doors, TURNED ON A MOVIE AND MADE BLONDIES. Because sometimes you just have to let the universe win.