Stink, Pip and I checked out the opening of a local firehouse today. They had never been to one before, and after today, they're certain to want to go back. Although they'll no doubt be disappointed when there's no jumper, no live band, no food, trucks on display or a climbing wall. "What? Just, like, firetrucks today?"
It was a hectic morning of fighting with Rex, the kids at each others' throats and the sad realization that I was, yet again, late with my credit card payments. Rex is so timely, if he were female, he wouldn't even be late for his period, despite being pregnant. He's just annoyingly perfunctual and practical about everything. Which is why we have a home and savings and food on the table and why I am clearly the biggest whiner on the planet. I'd take a class on how to be more grateful, but I'd just be late, so what's the point?
With all the dumb irritation of the morning, it wasn't until we arrived at the firehouse that I realized Stink didn't have shoes. Luckily Pip, who had on a princess dress and purple ballet shoes (because you can't ride a fire engine without sparkles) had an extra pair of Barbie slippers. He had a choice: Wear the blond or go home for his own sneakers, cutting his play time in half.
You can take a guess what he chose.
Between the shoe fiasco of 2008, and an emergency bathroom break post firetruck festivities that forced me to leave the car in the middle of a local park n' rec lot while I raced to the mens room, only to be interrupted mid-operation by a football player needing to use the facilities, the day was eventful to say the least.
Rex met me later at a local McDonalds where we didn't talk about credit card bills, vacation plans or how a last minute trip to Costco for a hot dog is too spontaneous for him. Stink can't eat hot dogs anyway, and if we went, I'd have to admit that I don't have the cash I thought I had due to a late payment on my credit cards, so it was a good time to just let it go. We held hands while the kids burned off the rest of their energy, ensuring an early bed time tonight. Gavin, the 10 year old down the street, is coming over at 7 for the first time to watch the kids while they snore. His only concern? Can he watch the NBA playoffs. After today? I don't care if he watches porn, as long as he doesn't tell his parents and keeps my kids safe so I can reconnect with the man who I sometimes forget about in the heat of my go-go-go crazy spinning brain.
Speaking of going out, I had better get the kids' dinner ready while they knock around a balloon the size of a kiddie pool that Pip intercepted from a 20 year old fireman in training. Pip: "I don't want a baby balloon. I want that biiiiig one on top." He looked at her in disbelief. "Pleaaaase?" she coyly offered up, then gave him a wink. No joke. He was defenseless.
Oh, for those of you interested in my ex-husband's blog, you can give him some love over there. He's single again with the most handsome boy in the universe, so if you know any hot women that don't mind living in Austin, give the man some props.
Though here's the warning: His blog platform is on Vox - One of the most difficult blogs to sign up for and comment on. I hate Vox. That's the reason I divorced him all those years ago. I mean, it had nothing to do with the fact that I was young and dumb and not ready to do my own laundry, let alone pay bills like an adult. No, not that.
And finally, happy wedding day to Mrs. V's sister in Florida. Hopefully V's kids made it down the aisle without staining their tuxes and she is now happily buzzed on martinis.