Really? I wonder where he's been living the past eight years. Our whole lives are a series of natural disasters. Too busy to debate, I decided to roll with it. The notion kept him occupied. It was absolutely nothing short of a torrential downpour outside, and I was out of time. Somehow, I had to get those boys into the car in order to get our younger son to his hair cut appointment.
So, I handed our weather man my phone and told him to document this historical event while I figured out how I was going to get our older son to and from this appointment without packing four sets of clothes, four pairs of socks and, gosh, I don't even have four sets of shoes.
"We're in the flood zone, everyone," announced young son while my mind raced through all of the possibilities. One drop. That's all it takes to get onto any item of our older son's clothing to prompt him to strip. He will absolutely NOT tolerate being wet.
We sometimes joke that he'll even strip if the weather is too humid.
"If the water gets any higher, we might be in real danger," continues the background commentary.
Raincoats, boots and umbrellas are of little help to protect our older son from this issue. They drip and smear water in the stripping process, which happens without any sense of humility and in front of any size audience.
"The last time this area saw anything of this magnitude was in 1908." By the way, our younger son did NOT investigate that last fact. He throws statistics out there because he knows that people listen to them.
He's right.
I devised an exit plan, reviewed it with the boys three times, shoving all the clothes I could find into a backpack, and then headed into the great monsoon outside of our house with our older son, two bags and an umbrella.
Note to self: must teach said son the art of walking under an umbrella.
He made it into the van. Clothes off. I headed back to the house.
"...in 1875, when the great flood broke through the locks in the Erie Canal. This storm is much greater than that!" The documentary was still being filmed when I arrived at the door to collect our younger son to made the second trip to the car.
Note to self: must teach younger son the art of filming and walking under and umbrella at the same time.
By the time I got into the car, I was soaked. What a mess. I turned around to check out the boys, and found my naked older son. Oops! I forgot about that!
Clothes on. Car started. The three of us make our way to the hair appointment in "the destructive weather which will bring about mass destruction and destructive things on a level of destruction which nobody has ever seen."
Really? The ten minute drive there did not bring us any relief in this rain?
"Mom," says you-know-who from the back seat, "I think it is raining even HARDER now."
"Yeah, buddy." I said, contemplating the next few minutes before us. "I can see that."
What I realized was that we were going to have to do this all over again, and then I was going to have to fight our older son from stripping once we made our way into the hair salon. With no bathroom there, and every room a public space packed with kids, I was running out of options.
Seriously, the amount of planning it takes just to get ONE CHILD a decent haircut is astounding!
It doesn't help us any that we were just there the night before getting our older son a haircut so that he'd look good for his school pictures today. In a rare scheduling snafu, the two were not getting back-to-back haircuts. Older brother was done. Now I see that he was not going to appreciate the reason for returning, in the rain, and having to wait while his brother had his turn.
This is a challenge.
Last night was terrible. They were running behind. They were packed, and our son had a very difficult time waiting. He paced like a caged animal in the waiting room while others watched him. He was literally coming out of his skin while I worked to distract him. I showed him different toys. I tried redirecting him to different corners of the room. Frankly, it was exhausting. Every minute late felt like an hour, and it wasn't long before I was ready to have someone's head on a platter.
If anyone--just ANYONE--on staff had spoken to me, I would have discussed my displeasure. Our son was really having trouble waiting. C'mon, people! In the end, we waited. He did it. He got his haircut, and we left!
What, now we are back? In all this rainy mess? I understand him. There's not much I can do, but I understand him.
We made our way through the downpour, stepping in puddles ankle-deep, into the salon. And a mere SECOND into the doorway, our older son took off. At top speed, he BOLTED, making a break for the door which exited into a tiny strip mall.
"Cars will soon have flooded engines if this continues, people!" said our younger son, still making a movie of the weather when his brother broke free from our pack.
Like any good mom, I figured the little meteorologist was ok. I ran away from one child to save another. I dropped my bags and took off right after that bolting child, solidly aware of the looks of horror from the people in the waiting room as well as the cheerful "Hiiiiiiii!" which came from the receptionist as I breezed by her desk.
Don't mind us, gal. We'll be back.
And, we were.
Despite that insane start, it was our usual appointment of my blocking and tackling older son while trying to curb our younger son's incessant chatter, all while remaining light and cheerful. Despite that insane start, I thought things were going much better than the night before.
Apparantly, so did the receptionist.
"Um, hi there." she timidly said to me toward the end of our appointment. "I just didn't want you to think that I was ignoring you when you came in."
"What, when we passed by you at warp speed?" I joked.
"Yeah, well, I just wanted you to know that I felt really bad for you last night." she said.
Shocked.
"You were doing such a great job, and your hands were really full," she continued. "I just kept thinking that you weren't getting a break at all. How would I do without breaks. I NEED a break sometimes!"
Remember my wanting to have someone's head on a platter? It likely would have been hers. And to think that I was actually setting an example to her by living my life--and not very well, I'll admit.
Boy, did I almost blow it.
I'm really glad fate stepped in, and circumstances were that our sons both got their appointments despite rain and stripping and bolting and a very hectic film schedule. I'm really glad I didn't chew somebody out.
How lucky am I that I didn't get overly frustrated and make it all about me?!
It was pure luck. I think I dodged a bullet, frankly. However, I'm going to work really hard to make sure that the next time I smell like a rose, I actually earn it. lol.
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