Four and a Dog

A blog about family life

A Catalogue of Disasters

Some days just go wrong. I’m not talking about full on disasters requiring the assistance of trained professionals or superheroes, just days when small things continuously go wrong until you feel like somebody must be messing with you on purpose (Jeremy Beadle has made me so suspicious).

A few days ago I had one of these days. It was a Wednesday and Hubby was going in to work late so that we could go and visit one of our local primary schools. Diva starts school in September and we have no idea which school would be the best one for her to attend. We’ve never done this before so we had no idea what to expect. The plan was to look around the school, Hubby would catch the bus to work and I would take the kids in to town for lunch before dropping Diva off at Nursery. I would then take Bruiser shopping before picking Diva back up and heading home. It seemed so simple.

Unfortunately the school visit took a lot longer than we had originally anticipated, and we only had 15 minutes to spare to get lunch before Nursery started. In our rush to leave the school, I somehow managed to twist my shoulder awkwardly and had to take a moment to ‘suck it up’. Hubby dashed to the bus while I cried internally and envisioned various scenarios in which I had dislocated/broken/amputated my shoulder just by opening a door.

We called Nursery to tell them we would be late and drove to a coffee shop to grab some lunch. By this time Bruiser had not had his morning nap and both children had missed their morning snack. The mood was not pleasant. The guy in the coffee shop sensed this and brought the children food swiftly. As the children were munching on their sandwiches and I waited for mine to arrive I decided to get out my purse to pay for the food. It wasn’t there. Amazingly, I don’t think this has ever happened to me before. I put on my most respectable, responsible and honest smile and approached the counter. I explained my predicament and handed over all my details with a promise to return as soon as I could. The guy looked at me very suspiciously (I obviously need to work on my honest face) and agreed to my terms.

I then hurtled over to Nursery to drop Diva off. Once in the car, Bruiser fell asleep immediately. Shopping was not going to happen. I would take Bruiser home for a sleep and go after Nursery had finished. Unfortunately Bruiser woke up the second we arrived home and was not keen to take another nap. Instead he decided to torture me with tired and frustrated wailing. No activity would appease him- not even his Mirror Me book would work (unheard of!). At one point he head butted me so hard in his frustration that I thought he had dislocated/broken/amputated my jaw.

Fifteen minutes before I was due to collect Diva, he fell asleep. Sadly he did not stay asleep when I tried to transfer him in to the car. This did not help the general mood of the day. After an overly long search for a car parking space, I quickly ran in to the coffee shop to pay my debt. Imagine my horror upon discovering my debt was actually fifty pence more than I had in my purse. I offered for Bruiser to do some washing up but that was apparently not an acceptable trade. Thankfully the coffee shop owner was nice enough to let me off. Very generous considering he’d completely overcharged me in the first place (most expensive bit of grated cheese between two slices of white bread I’ve ever bought… or part bought anyway).

We then whisked over to Nursery to get Diva and headed to the supermarket where things finally seemed to improve. The kids were enjoying the trolley ride and I felt like my shopping experience was slick and efficient. However, after placing our weekly essentials on to the conveyor belt I made a startling discovery. My purse was not in my bag. During the rush of Nursery pick up I had managed to put it in Diva’s bag and not mine. Her bag was in the boot of the car. Clearly my brain has been dislocated/broken/amputated. I wheeled trolley and children out to the car, collected the purse, returned to till, avoided eye contact with the queue, paid and left.

I think it’s time we considered moving to a new town.

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