Children For Sale - Cheap!

It may or may not have escaped your notice that I did not post yesterday. Let me recount the last 48 hours of my life and that will help you to understand.

Tuesday morning, I received a call from daycare. My middle son (the one who inherited mommy's grace quotient - which is non-existent) had fallen and had a cut on the back of his head and probably needed stitches. Could somebody come get him?

After dropping everything and speeding out of the office, I had time to think that the freeway problem in this world is not due to speeding drivers, it is due to all of the shithead assemaholes who cannot figure out that the right lane is the slow lane and they want to do below the minimum speed in the middle and left lanes. Minimum speed, as I define it, is 65 or whatever the speed limit is on the freeway near your home. These are the same people who think it wise to speed down neighborhood streets, where our children play, in an effort to make up for the lost time on the freeway. Do you know why I had time to think about this on the way to get my child? Because I was stuck behind each and everyone of you assholes!

I spent the remainder of the afternoon swaddled in our FUBARed health care system, a.k.a. the emergency room (there’s a misnomer, if ever there was one). My poor boo had to get a stitch in the back of his head. He was very brave and even though, he was screaming he could feel everything, the doc stitched him up with no shots, just some numbing gel that clearly did not work.

Wednesday morning started out with my noticing the door to the hallway bathroom was shut and the light was on. I asked if everything was okay and I hear, “don’t come in here, there is poop everywhere, but I am alright.” “Mommy is coming in.” He was right, there was poop all over, the floor, the walls the toilet and his pajamas. He had tried to clean it up, but really that just spread it around. Note; while my hubby would have changed a poopy diaper, there is no way his breakfast would have stayed down, once he viewed and smelled this mess. I made the executive decision to keep him and my youngest home. Which meant I had to take my oldest to school.

We get out to the car and dead battery. No matter how many times I tell them not to turn on the lights over their heads, they do and they had managed to leave them on again. We had to walk/jog .60 miles to my son’s school in 7 minutes. We failed miserably.

“Momma, I’m tired, I need to take a rest.”
“We should have brought water.”
“I’m feeling sad, I wish daddy were here.” (GRR! I wish your daddy were here, too!)
“You’re walking too fast.”
“Can we play in the park?”
And finally, “You shouldn’t have made us late!”

I walked over to the Home Depot to get a battery charger. There was almost no incident with this. I get home and read the instructions and it says, charge for 48 hours before using. I call my sister-in-law for help and before she calls me back, I get a call from Ashley Furniture. The poor girl who called me will never forget this day. It seems that even though they quote 4-6 weeks for furniture delivery. They really mean 4-6 months.

“Your furniture will be delivered at the end of November.”
“What happened to Friday, the earlier message said Friday.”
“I’m sorry, it looks like the end of November, the 4-6 weeks is not a promise, just a guideline.”
“Where are we supposed to eat Thanksgiving dinner? On the floor? I have small children and we have been eating and sitting on the floor for a month (we ordered the furniture 2 weeks before we moved in).”
“I’m sorry ma’am (ma'am, MA'AM!?) it won’t be in.”
“Okay, so how do we fix this? I can try to pick it up, whatever, but I need a table for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“The only pieces we have are 3 bar stools and we cannot split the order since it is so close to your delivery date.”
“Then, I need to speak to your Corporate Office or a supervisor.”
“I am a supervisor and there is nothing else we can do.”
“Here’s what your going to do, you are going to cancel my order and not charge me your 20% restocking fee and I am going to order from someone who will have furniture here within 2 days.”
“I can check with my supervisor and call you back, but I am not promising anything.” She hung up grateful to get off the call and probably thinking she would never hear or speak to me again. Unfortunately, for her, she left her name and number on my voicemail and I saved it! There is nothing more satisfying than taking out a bad day on some poor underling, I don’t care what they say on church on Sundays, it feels oh, so satisfying!