Yesterday evening, I brought my younger daughter to her indoor soccer practice.
I did this after picking up my older daughter and her best friend from their after-school Odyssey of the Mind program, and then dropping the best friend off at her house. Beforehand, I'd heated up some leftover pasta and put it into a take-along container for Grace, because Grace and I would be waiting at the sports complex until Anna's soccer practice wrapped up at 6:45 p.m.
Thursday is usually a hectic day, but yesterday was particularly hectic because Stanton had a work event until 8 p.m. or so, and I needed to log into a 7 p.m. virtual meeting (school-related).
I had a small but manageable window of 15 minutes to get the girls and me from the sports complex back home for my 7 p.m. meeting.
At 6:30 p.m., I got up from the table where Grace and I had been hanging out for the past hour (Grace doing homework, myself wasting time on TMZ and E! News 😉 ). Nature called.
I strode over to the women's restroom. A white sign had been Scotch-taped to the door.
The sign read: "Bathroom closed due to flooding. Please use Porta Potties outside."
What?!
I checked the men's restroom. The same sign had been Scotch-taped to that door too.
"Please use Porta Potties outside." Um, it's nighttime, and it's January. True, it's not snowing, just raining (hence the restroom flooding, I imagined)...but it's still cold out there, sports complex manager.
Cold and dark, might I add.
Please use Porta Potties outside? I don't think so.
Please use Porta Potties outside? Not an option, friends. Not an option.
Um, it's nighttime, and it's January.
As I went about my day today (Friday), I couldn't help thinking that the "Please use Porta Potties outside" sign pretty much perfectly epitomizes this past week for me. So much has been happening, and I'm so thankful it's the weekend.
One of my colleagues at the library had asked me to work this past Saturday for her (and she'll work an upcoming Saturday for me). Switching Saturday shifts can be tricky for me, because of the girls' activities, but this woman has been so kind to me, so of course I told her yes.
"Mom," the girls said to me. "You don't have to say yes if you don't want to."
"Girls," I said back. If someone's been a friend to you, you should be a friend back when they need you. This is what I believe, anyway.
The weekend was a bit of a blur. Work on Saturday, cheering Grace on at her last "Shrek" performance on Sunday, getting ready for the week ahead.
I had ordered some new clothes for myself, online of course. On Wednesday morning after showering, at approximately 6:30, I pulled on a pair of my new pants, looked at myself in the mirror and—like 40-something women everywhere who buy a pair of pants online—said out loud, "Do these look OK?"
I couldn't decide.
Anna told me they seemed shiny. Translation: She didn't like them.
Grace raised her eyebrows but had no comment, then wondered if I could make her lunch.
Stanton was out of town for work.
Agh. I would just wear the new pants.
Once I got to work, I confided in two of my female co-workers that I wasn't sure about my new pants.
"You look fine, Melissa," they assured me.
Although today (Friday), I wore a different pair of new pants to work, which I also felt unsure about, and another female co-worker said, "You look like a genie!"
(Thanks, Allison! 😉 )
On one of the evenings Stanton wasn't home this week, all I wanted to do after the girls had gone to bed was sit on the couch with some junk food and watch TV. That was all, friends.
I turned on the TV. "No signal," the screen said.
I clicked various buttons on the remote control(s).
Nothing worked.
I briefly considered waking up Grace, who's her father's daughter when it comes to problem solving.
No, that wouldn't be kind.
Agh.
In the morning, I told the girls what had happened.
"You were probably on the wrong input, Mom," Grace said.
"No," I replied. "I tried all the inputs. Nothing worked."
Anna shook her head, skeptical. "I don't know, Mom," she said. "I think you were on the wrong input too."
You know what, friends? Maybe I was. For all I know, I was on the wrong input.
Sometimes you are, I guess.
(TGIF!)
❤
Photo credit: Pixabay
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