I had an 11:00 am meeting with a witness that I will be examining at trial. That meeting lasted two hours and included a lengthy and non-relevant history lesson on the Battle of Normandy.
Then I scarfed down a can of soup while I got ready for my 1:30 meeting. This meeting was shorter but still made my brain hurt. But legal brain hurt feels masochistically good. So I didn't mind too much.
Then I had a nearly two hour meeting at 3:00 pm to discuss trial strategy. I have never discussed and re-discussed and triple discussed trial strategy this many times before. Brain hurt level = explosion.
I rushed out the door at 4:30pm to pick up the little kids (husband working late). Then, with little kids in tow, I rushed out the door to pick up my big kid. Then for some crazy reason (i.e.: I am totally freaking insane), I dragged all three kids to the open house for our parish's school.
Coincidentally last week, the day that my son informed me that a kid in his class told him that her mother steals things from people's pockets and that every time she sees a police car she is afraid it will take her mom away, that just happened to be the SAME day that our church school sent out an email invitation to their open house. And some people don't believe in signs! I'm seriously considering private Catholic school after a number of incidents made me feel a little uncomfortable with the local district. And I'm not talking about the dude who dropped his kid off on the first day of school wearing a shirt that said, "I have morning wood."
Jacob's teacher is AWESOME and he is thriving (now). But man, sometimes I get the creeps. It's totally unquantifiable. I just can't shake it off. Oh yeah, there WAS that incident of a sexual predator.... And the classmate who colored on the wall with her own poop and stuck crayons up her nose. I know weird and icky stuff can happen anywhere. I would just prefer that it happen surrounded by a hundred Jesus and Mary statues. Also our church school rocks. But.....costs. I will likely have to choose between private school education or a house that does not resemble a sardine can. Dear Lord. Don't make me choose! We are about to set up our baby crib in the kitchen. I can't pee without sitting in someone else's pee (one bathroom, five people). And I have to dry my hair while sitting on the floor wedged between the Pak 'N Play and my dresser. Sh*t is getting desperate!
Long story short- I took the kids to the school open house. And I'm in love with the school. And my kids knocked over a "crown of thorns" display made by the first grade class. And we all shook the priest's hand except for Ryan who had his finger wedged deep into his nostril and apparently even priests have their limits. And I tried to have a serious discussion with Jacob about what school he would like to go to next year but he was pretty determined that the decision should be settled by "eeny meeny miney mo."
As we pulled away from the open house, I decided to take Ryan to Urgent Care because he had weird bumps on his face and he had a crazy rash on his tongue. You know, it really could have been the measles. You can never be too careful. Another long story short, Ryan does NOT have the measles but a bacterial infection and lingering respiratory infection. And sitting with three children in a waiting room and then exam room for two hours will likely involve several unpleasant things including: (1) constantly telling your two year old to stop licking the wall - hmmm, might explain that tongue rash, (2) your six year old repeatedly spinning on the rotating doctor stool and crashing into everything within a ten foot radius, (3) baby spit up on your work clothes, (4) walking laps around the doctor's office to distract certain children from smacking each other, and (5) lots and lots of selfies.
Ryan hasn't quite mastered the art of the selfie.
But Jacob has.
By 8:30, we were finally exiting Urgent Care and I gave in and made a final stop at McDonald's Drive-Thru where in my exhaustion and distraction from a screaming four month old, I totally hit a curb. I'm hoping I can blame any resulting vehicle damage on the elderly neighbor who parks next to us on the street. (Yes, I've accepted the fact that it will take the sayings of many MANY rosaries to get my wicked soul into heaven.)
Forty minutes of baby screaming and cheeseburger throwing later we are FINALLY home. It's not until I pull up to the house that I realize I never picked up Ryan's antibiotics. Ooops. It will wait for tomorrow because: the siren call of the yoga pants > concern for son's well being. It's just a tongue rash people. It's NOT the measles.
The kids ended up going to bed super late and I finally choked down dinner at 9:30. It was such a freaking crazy day. But you know what, it's totally ok. Because today I was wearing a brand new cropped blazer with my favorite boots and slightly new prescription shades and I felt like a million dollars all day long (even when I pulled out my wallet at the doctor's office and a used pair of little boys' Toy Story underwear fell out of my purse).
This is now one of my favorite outfits. I was totally unsure about the layering. The waistlines and hem lines didn't seem quite right with the shirt underneath. But it looked funny to tuck the shirt in and I ran out of time to adjust my outfit so I just went with it.
Any outfit looks better when poised next to a suspended, stuffed pterodactyl.
I felt like I was channeling my inner Alicia Florrick (my fictional lawyer hero and role model) all day. It's amazing how one single outfit can make you feel powerful and in-charge. And I desperately needed to feel these things during meetings in which I have to tell men nearly thirty years my senior what to do.