It was one of those days where everything is happening at once, and I’m being pulled in 50 million directions. The day where you want to change your name from mom, mama, mommy, mooooooooom, Kellie, Kel, hey you, or anything slightly resembling the afore mentioned names, and not tell a sole what your new name is. I mean really. It’s a day where you wish you could block it out entirely, but due to a mishap, you will remember it forever.
Come to think of it, it was the same day I wrangled and mangled the chicken! Good times. Well, being stressed out over that stupid chicken, dealing with homework, trying to pay attention to the directional video on how to cut a whole chicken via youtube, while listening to my daughters tell me about their day, and everything in between, I forgot to pick my eldest, G1 (girl 1), up from rehearsal at school. Aaaahhh. I threw that dang chicken in the oven in a hurry and told G2 and G3 that I would be back in 5 min. G3 insisted on coming with me, (and since she’s technically not at a legal age to stay home alone, I caved in), but then she took a zillion seconds trying to find her coat, and I was already late!! I’m sure you know the feeling. She finally found her coat, so, we jumped in the car *cough:minivan:cough* and buckled our seat belts. I started the car and threw that puppy in reverse. We were off!! And only 8 minutes late!! Well, in my haste, I forgot to let the garage door open all the way. Ummmm….yeah. Ooops. The good news, it made an awesome sound. The bad news, well, let’s just say, damage was done and angry tears may have been shed. I reluctantly called my hubby, to inform him of what to expect when he got home from work, and also warned him not to talk to me about it. I was mad. Mad at myself for getting so upset and frustrated with everything. Ever have that feeling? Yep, one of those days. Sigh.
Anyway, the garage door was fixable via a genius with strong muscles, a hammer and a drill. Or at least I think that’s all hubby used to fix it, because I wasn’t out there, I was sulking in the kitchen and stabbing at the stupid chicken to see if it was cooked through. Regardless of how he fixed it, I’m just grateful that we didn’t have to buy a new garage door!! And if you stand on your left foot, put your hands in the air and cross your eyes, you can hardly see the dent!
The best part of the whole ordeal was my youngest, G3. She kept rubbing my arm and saying: “It’s okay mom, everyone makes mistakes. It’s going to be just fine. Don’t worry about it.” I just adore her.