We’re watching the Olympics every night, as I am psycho like that. The men’s 200m breaststroke was just broadcast, which featured Kosuke Kitajima winning the gold for Japan. The sportscasters covering the Games called Kitajima the greatest breaststroker in history because he’s now won gold for both the 100m and 200m breaststroke in back-to-back Olympics.
Kurt heard that and said, “I want to be the greatest breaststroker in history!”
Today was not the greatest of days. I feel like I’ve been running and racing around all day. My normal schedule sees me getting up at 9 or 9:30am, having breakfast, checking email and blogs (which I have been awful about lately; if I haven’t commented, don’t take it personally), and generally taking it easy until at least 11am or so. It takes me a while to wake up, so I normally relish these easy-going mornings.
That is, if I don’t need to take Gracie to school. Then I’m up at 7:15am and out the door by 8:20. But that’s just Tuesdays and Thursdays.
This morning Kurt called me at 10:15 to tell me he was done for the morning, but he had to return to work earlier than usual. We’d still get his normal lunch break, just shifted a little earlier.
I wasn’t even dressed yet. I wasn’t even thinking about getting dressed yet! So off I raced to the shower and was completely ready to go (hair, makeup, everything) in just over 30 minutes.
We had lunch at our favorite little diner, where the owner played a funny trick on me. I was hauling myself up the stairs to the front door, concentrating on just getting to the top, when I noticed a big CLOSED sign on the door. Completely confused now, I tried to figure out what day it was (some restaurants here are closed on Mondays) and what time it was. Finally the owner took pity on me and opened the door. I couldn’t see her through the tinted glass of the door holding up the CLOSED sign. She laughed and laughed and laughed. It was pretty funny.
There’s a consignment store featuring kids’ stuff around the corner from our diner, and I felt like shopping. So we decided to check it out.
That has got to be the most expensive consignment store I have ever encountered in my entire life. Seriously. I used to complain about the prices at the kids’ consignment store in Washington, mainly because I was used to the thrift stores in southern Virginia, where shirts for adults can run you as little as 50¢. But the consignment store in Washington put things on sale all the time, up to 80% off, which meant I got some killer deals on Grace’s clothes when she was a baby.
This place today… I was just shocked. Shirts for $10! For a toddler!!! Toys like a play kitchen, not even made of wood, for $80. A jogging stroller for $180. For those prices, I could get these items new.
Kurt couldn’t stop giggling at the kid behind the counter. He must have been all of sixteen years old, a summer job to keep him out of trouble while school was out. Apparently he kept falling asleep at the register. His head would slowly fall to his chest, where it would lay for a few moments, and then he would jerk himself awake — only to repeat his actions. Kurt told him he needed a tv to keep him awake.
I did buy one thing at the consignment store, one of those body support pillows for the car seat for when your baby is still a tiny newborn. It was a good price, and it looked new. But I don’t think I’ll ever go back there again.
We had to take Kurt back to work, and then it was home again for all of an hour and a half before we had to get ready for swim lessons. Her lessons are only supposed to run 3:15 to 3:45pm, but she’s almost always kept in class till 4pm. I didn’t mind; I was too busy chatting with another pregnant lady (due 10 September) and her husband. I’ll miss them when they go on to their next duty station; they’re really awesome people. But by the time I got home, it was almost 4:30.
Kurt arrived home fifteen minutes later, which threw us in yet another flurry of getting ready to leave again. Tonight his team played game 1 of the softball playoffs, the game that had been cancelled last night due to rain. And again his team drew the 5:30pm start time.
I was really looking forward to seeing Kurt play, and he teases me that his team only does well when I’m there to cheerlead. I’m usually the only wife in the stands, so I try really hard to cheer for everyone on Kurt’s team, and I get Gracie to yell in support as well. Whether that makes a difference, I don’t know. But I do know that the one game I did not attend, his team was utterly spanked, 24-8. Ouch. They don’t always win when I am there, but at least it wasn’t ever a blow-out.
Grace, however, did not want to cooperate. One of Kurt’s coworkers has a daughter that’s just Grace’s age, and he has no problem letting her go up behind the bleachers to the swings to play during the game. I am not keen on letting my child that far out of my sight, especially today because there were a lot of other people at the field besides Kurt’s team. I would have had to accompany Grace up to the swings, which meant firstly that I wouldn’t be able to watch the game, and secondly that I couldn’t sit down. And with the way my back is hurting lately, I wasn’t thrilled at the idea of standing on my feet for an hour. Besides, I didn’t know if anyone at the park had peanuts or peanut butter, so I have to keep an eagle eye on Gracie in situations like that.
Grace knew she wasn’t allowed to go up to the swings, and even had an entire conversation with her little friend about it. That was funny — it was like hearing two teenagers discussing their curfews. But it didn’t stop Grace from trying to follow her friend up there, and she would not listen when I called her back down again. Not only that, she got very, very whiny. That’s her latest thing, is whining. It’s driving me batty, let me tell you. She’s totally regressed back to the terrible two’s, and it’s not fun. Everything I said tonight was met with a whined response of “But I don’t WANNA!!!” Gahhh.
THEN! She informed me she had to go to the bathroom. We had her visit the restroom at least twice right before we left the house because there are only port-a-potties at the park. I’m not a germaphobe, but I have a serious fear of Grace slipping and falling into the muck at the bottom of a port-a-potty. I’ve taken her to use them when it’s a dire need, but that’s why we encourage her to go as much as possible before we even leave.
She knows the rules; she knows she’s not supposed to ask me to go the bathroom when we’re at the game. But the port-a-potties are next to the swings, and I guess her devious toddler mind felt that she could somehow get up to the swings and play if she told me she had to go.
By this time I had had enough. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I was at the end of my rope. I’d already threatened her several times with going home if she didn’t shape up, and I felt she had to see the consequences of her actions. I had to follow through with my threat. So I informed Kurt he needed to find a ride after the game, and off Grace and I went.
Grace screamed the entire way to the van. It was incredibly embarrassing, but I stuck to my guns. As soon as we got home, she went to her room and laid on her bed and stayed there till Kurt got home a half hour later. Apparently she fell asleep, so I know her behavior was because she was overtired. But she’s far too stubborn now to nap.
And guess what? Did she ask to visit the restroom when we got home? Of course not. She didn’t actually have to go to the bathroom. She just wanted to see if she could scam a way to get up to the swings.
After all that, I was in no mood to make dinner. But! I had this whole meal-plan for the week going on. I felt I had to stick with it. If I don’t, the fresh produce will start to go bad — and now I am throwing money away.
I sucked it up and made dinner, exactly as planned. It was good too! Kurt helped a lot too by acting as sous chef. He opened cans and retrieved ingredients and was in general a huge help. He would have made dinner entirely if I had let him, but I needed to get in the kitchen to put my bad day behind me.
I still haven’t made my zucchini bread. That’s going to have to wait till tomorrow.