A Day for the Books

At 8:15 a.m., A., me, Jack, and Poppy hit the road and drove 50 miles to drop the van off at the mechanic. After that, we went to the clinic for Poppy's one-year checkup*. She didn't get any of her vaccinations because I had to sign a records release for her former pediatrician to send her records to the new place, and due to the time change, it was the hour the pediatrician in New York was closed for lunch.

So I have to bring her back.

Fail number 1.

After that fun time, we went to the Motor Vehicle Department so A. could get his new driver's license. I couldn't get mine because I can't find my Social Security card in the mess of paperwork and boxes that have yet to be unpacked.

Fail number 2.

We finally arrived back home at 1 p.m. At 3:10 p.m., I got a call from the school asking if I was unable to come to the meeting I was scheduled to be at at 3 p.m. I was not unable, I had just written it in on the calendar for Thursday.

Fail number 3.

A. was gone doing some things at the new house, so I quickly loaded up a very tired baby in her stroller and speed-walked with Jack the 200 yards to the school, where four other people with busy schedules were waiting on me.

One of the teachers gave me a pen to sign a form, and I spent a good twenty seconds trying to click or twist the tip out before she kindly informed me that it just had a cap that could be taken off. That was a bit embarrassing, but nothing to what happened next.

We were almost through the meeting when I looked over to where Jack and Poppy were playing with toys on the floor and saw that Poppy's back was covered in poop and there was more of it all over the floor.

Is there a problem here?

I of course had nothing with me to clean it up with, so I had to cast myself upon the kindness of the women present--all of whom, thankfully, have their own children--to secure antibacterial wipes and an extra diaper, provided by the preschool teacher.

Yes, that was just what my day needed.

After cleaning up the baby and the floor, I made the appropriate self-deprecating jokes about leaving before we caused any more trouble and got the hell out of there with a pantsless baby covered with my sweater. And then I had to hang around the school for ten more minutes waiting for Cubby and Charlie to finish their days so we could go home.

I may never leave my house again.

* She's in the 90th percentile for height and the 83rd percentile for weight, which means that she is a very big girl. But my sore shoulders already knew that.