Let's start with overnight, since, as a heavily pregnant woman, I haven't slept through the night in months. Last night I had a whole series of disturbing dreams. In each one of them, I had gone into labor, but I wasn't ready. I had to pack a suitcase to return from vacation or we were in the middle of a move from one house to another or labor itself was stopping and starting while I hung out at the "birth house" hoping for my turn while 20-some other women with more efficient labor patterns bumped me down the waiting list.
Once I got out of bed for the day, Adam told me his paycheck had come through. Hooray, we can afford groceries! In fact, the amount of the check was higher than I'd expected, and we can actually afford to pay all but one of the bills that's due before his next check.
Because it's Friday, and I really didn't want to contemplate going grocery shopping on Saturday, Rosi and I took Adam to work. The way there isn't too bad, it's picking him up at the end of his shift (two hours past Rosi's bedtime) that's the bear. He tried to find a ride home with one of his coworkers, but no one was able to do it tonight.
After dropping Adam off at the office, we sputtered our way to the nearest gas station to fill up our desperately thirsty car. Thankfully, no pushing was required to make it all the way there. After filling up on gas and oil, my 13-year-old car was happy as a clam once again.
We headed back home so I could work out a menu plan for the next few weeks and actually purchase appropriate foods to feed us within our budget. It took me about two hours longer than I'd expected, but finally, I got a list made out. My estimated cost came to within just a few dollars of our budget.
Before we left for the shopping expedition, I made a sandwich for myself. I offered one to Rosi as well (several times, in fact, because I knew she ought to be hungry), but she refused. Were I a brilliant mother, I would have brought an extra with me, so that when she started melting down in the pasta aisle, I could have pulled it out of my magic bag Mary Poppins style.
Unfortunately, I'm not practically perfect in every way, so instead of feeding her in the middle of the aisle, I pulled her out of the cart, left the food melting in the aisle, and we came back home--half-shopped with nothing to show for it.
I've spent the last 25 minutes trying to convince her that, yes, she does need to take a nap before we go get Daddy because she will be up for at least 2½ hours past her bedtime. At this precise moment, she's sitting on her bedroom floor, humming to herself to stay awake.
Calgon, take me away! And, could you possibly send somebody else in my place for a couple of days while you're at it?