Some days I should just stay home!
women having coffee

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Some days I should just stay home! Today was one of them. It wasn't so bad I guess, on reflection, but at the time, I just thought some days, it is more work to go out and why bother?

I was to meet two girlfriends for coffee and morning tea at a local kid friendly cafe; sandpit out the back and all. I left late. I thought I was leaving at 9am and by the time I loaded everyone and everything into the car it was quarter past! How does that happen? Last minute vomits and clothing and bib changes and looking for that horse we simply must have and can't leave home without, packing the winter woollies as we'll be sitting outside etcetera etcetera etcetera, that's how. Yet still I rarely allow for these inevitabilities.

All that, and, I am so long since past driving out of town I forgot about peak hour extending past 9am. Plus the unforseen broken down truck on the two lane road to the freeway, 10 minutes wasted there, easy.

So I am almost there, took a wrong turn up the right street thanks to the husband’s advice (grr), should have followed my instincts on that one, and I am so very rarely right! A quick U-turn and then suddenly with no warning Big Miss is crying, shrieking and howling so loud and distressed I can't ascertain the exact problem whilst negotiating the 4 lane 4 direction city outskirts intersection. Then I see it, vomit. Not the Little Miss, no, that would be too easy. The Big Miss, half digested apple and mucous all over her front, and still the wailing. I shove a bunny rug at her yelling over the howls to vomit into that, lamenting that she couldn't neatly chuck into a bag even if she wanted to, such is her youth. I pull over in a no-standing zone and quickly climb into the back from her side and slam the door shut as the oncoming traffic threatened to remove my car door and derriere for me, no less. We clean up, she chucks some more and tearily tells me she is "not feeling vurry well". Errr, nope. I guess that means we're going home? "No, that's okay, I'm better now you helped me, it was just a accident" (sic) ....What a little trooper! I might get my desperately needed caffeine shot after all. We soldier on, I find a park miiiiiles away and get out the pram, bassinet on top, multiple bags, snacks, present for another child, coats, hats, scarves, blankets, infant and preschooler, lock the car, and walk to our original destination. Only half an hour late. Half an hour! I wish I'd just gone home! I cannot tell you how much I hate being late. It is so ingrained in me after years of suffering my mother’s lateness I get quite anxious if running even a few minutes behind nowadays. I have had to let much of that go since kids appeared. Clearly.

So we get there. Order. Little Miss wants a feed, Big Miss feeling okay and hungry (how do kids do that?) and suddenly sulky regarding sandpit toy sharing or some such issue. Mid breastfeed, coffee arrives, yes! Other child wants some of Big Miss’s grapes? Sure, I'll pass them over with my spare non feeding hand and bang! There goes my coffee, all over table, floor, pram, boots, jeans. Not one sip taken. Oh joy. Can't even blame the kids. Getting a waitress to help was like drawing teeth and when she reluctantly did there was no offer of another (yes I'd have paid, of course! Just thought it was par for the course when ones beverage is upended to offer to bring another one. When I turned to ask for it she was gone, yeah thanks for that). Food arrives, my French toast is dry, total maple syrup content about 5mL and 'caramelised banana' equates to one half a raw banana cut into 3 and dumped on top all sprinkled with cinnamon. Not even a whole banana! And no stinking coffee to wash it down.

Then on reflection as I sat there sulking the absence of coffee I realised I didn't actually have enough cash on me to afford another coffee. Great. Should have slurped up the remnants that were in the saucer, I did half contemplate it!

Kids playing in sand, another child not belonging to us throwing sand, offending child's mother oblivious. Until another parent tells said child off, then she gets involved, informing all and sundry that "he is only 2 you know". Right. Old enough to throw sand and yell repeatedly "shut-up" interspersed with “go away!". And did so right into other well meaning-offspring-protecting parents faces. Charming.

Aside: a Pet Peeve of mine, parents who don't participate. Don't watch, don't discipline, don't get off their backsides, don't care and then have the nerve to get all uppity when someone else does intervene.

Little Miss was then grumpy, upsetting as she is never grumpy (might have been the hot coffee in her hair!) and won't be put down, finally shoved into pram so I can take Big Miss to the toilet before we go. Came back, you guessed it, Little Miss finally asleep and I just want to go home, thereby necessitating waking her to put her into the car.

Both Miss's fall asleep on way home and of course Big Miss wakes up super cranky and there are many tears in parked car in garage, she refusing to get out. Such is the commotion that when I do get her out, in between heaving sobs she is distressed because she "can't talk". Oh no. I need a coffee!

Phew. Some days a social life is Just. Not. Worth. It.