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)n.1. a. A warning or caution.Two weeks ago, I had the most amazing 34th birthday. Wait, did I say 34th? I meant 29th. So anyways, I got breakfast in bed, some roses, a card, a wonderful lunch and wine tasting in Napa, it was awesome. And as a secondary part of my birthday, we took a family road trip down to Manhattan Beach to visit our friends and take the kids to the beach. We had a blast, it was great weather, we got to hang out with our closest buds, and then slowly, the shit storm started brewing.
My husband, in the excitement of being back in his hometown, with his hometown friends, forgot all parking laws and got two parking tickets. They are $48 each. At this point, a week later, I can understand making a mistake and I guess we all get stupid parking tickets sometimes, and Manhattan Beach is a bitch to park in, but in the moment, all I could think was "why didn't you get some f---ing quarters?"
Then we came home. I unpacked by dumping everything out on the floor including our parking tickets, and starting sorting through clean from dirty. In the moment, I decided that I was going to make the guest bathroom officially into the kids AND guest bathroom. I set up the step stools, training toothpaste, potty seat, and inform the nanny the next morning that all kid related bathroom activities will happen there now. Then, I get home from work the next day, and the nanny timidly informs me that they got locked out of the kids bathroom accidentally.
On the weekends, with two working parents that like to sleep, and kids that get up anytime between 5:30am and 6:30am, we have an agreement. I get a morning to sleep in, and you get a morning to sleep in. Deal, right? I took today as my morning since Dad's Night Out is tonight and daddy probably will want to sleep in tomorrow. After daddy and the kids got out of my room finally, I got to sleep for a good hour. It was nice. I get up around 9am and walk out into the living room to see my beautiful family.
Well, I don't see any kids or husband but instead I see a total disaster area of our house. The frying pan on the stove needs to be soaked for hours. Plates of uneaten scrambled eggs, shredded cheese and Cheerios scattered around randomly, but at least the coffee was made. So, of course, then I start cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning. And then I remember the parking tickets so I start looking for them, everywhere. They are gone, nowhere to be found. Great. Fantastic.
Then, since Bubu has been brushing his teeth with water all week, I remember the locked bathroom door. I call a locksmith, and it ends up being $90 to get the damn bathroom door open. I really wanted to beat the locksmith with a baseball bat, but we don't own one.
If only someone had told me to feed the meter, to duct tape the kids bathroom door, that sleeping in had a nasty consequence, to buy a baseball bat...if only I'd gotten the missing caveat.
