Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Best Laid Plans...


Okay, so here's the plan. Coffee in bed for Bubba, a leisurely morning of hanging out with the girls, wrestling, then off to a mystery destination (his favorite brunch spot - a ginormous buffet complete with peel-n-eat shrimp, Alaskan King Crab legs, and a chocolate fountain). What the afternoon might hold, we're not sure, but we'll wing it and see where the wind takes us.

After Lola's piano lesson at 3pm, it's home to a meal of his choice and homemade german chocolate cake before putting the girls to bed. Awesome way to spend a birthday, right? I thought so, too, mentally patting myself on the back.

Here's what really happened:

Because of one vital missing ingredient (evaporated milk) that the grocery store didn't have ANY of yesterday afternoon, I spent most of the early evening evaporating my own, thinking I'd get up early enough to bake the cake this morning.

Because of the spontaneous date we went on last night and the ill-advised Guinness I drank at 10:00 (and the subsequent one I drank at 11:00), I didn't exactly get up early this morning. No worries - I'll make cupcakes instead and get right to work on them. Which, in fact, I did. But I was so busy making them and the homemade frosting - from scratch - that Bubba showered and came downstairs before I could make his coffee and bring it to him in bed. Whoops.

Then the wrestling match ensued. The one where the kids were going nuts in the family room that is completely empty except for space and soft carpet (soft, stained, nasty-but-vacuumed carpet that is to be ripped out this week and replaced) and imitating WWF superstars with their father. The wrestling match in which Lola delivered a scathing, supersonically fast roundhouse kick directly to...her father's kneecap. His large, solid kneecap. Then she, the one with nerves of steel and a pain tolerance to match, crumpled screaming in pain and clutching the side of her foot to the floor.

OK. Ice, ace bandage, Tylenol, elevation and lots of hugs and kisses later, we were ready to head out to brunch. Brunch was terrific. Beautiful. Gourmet. The girls tried all sorts of new things - popcorn shrimp, chicken and mushroom crepes, paella, but honestly went back over and over again for the chocolate fountain. Bubba was in heaven, filling plate after plate with shellfish and finally filling his final plate with nothing but crab legs and a side of melted butter in which to dip them. Ninety minutes later, we were stuffed to the gills. But Lola's foot had gotten progressively worse and more painful.

Our pediatrician's office advised us to go to the local Children's Hospital in order to get the most accurate x-rays of the tiny bones in her foot. After four hours of being moved from one waiting area to the next (each filled with feverish, phlegmy toddlers who coughed like 80-year old emphysemics and made my skin CRAWL), she was finally seen by a doctor and said x-rays were obtained. A really bad sprain was diagnosed, we managed to meet back up with Bubba and Lola's big sister and head home for some (gulp!) dinner. Dinner which I had neglected to plan or make at this point.

Thankfully, Bubba is a wonderful man. He picked us up outside the ER with a loaf of french bread, fresh ravioli and a smile on his face. I was looking forward to a glass of wine and an evening relaxing on the couch. Yeah, the one that isn't in the family room anymore. Okay, the floor. The floor is fine.

As I stepped out of the car I was greeted by my lovely, loyal, antsy dog. The dog who had so kindly been let out to pee by the contractor working at the house. The dog who was so furious that he was left at home all day by himself that he decided to find the most foul coyote poop in the yard and coat himself in it and then sit on the front porch and await my arrival in order to let me know just how he felt.

As Bubba started his own birthday dinner, I dragged the dog upstairs to my shower to de-stink him. This 80 pound dog who has long hair and requires me to actually be in the shower with him to give him a thorough washing.

Okay, I'm wiped. But wait, there's more...Not five minutes after getting dressed and cleaning up my bathroom from my latest adventure, with dinner simmering on the stovetop, the doorbell rings and a perfect stranger informs me that two stray labrador retrievers have nearly been run over on my street and have now retreated into my back yard. Could I make sure they get back to their owner? Thanks.

Gorgeous dogs. Friendly, well-trained dogs. A yellow lab and a black lab who both came for a treat and sat down politely to wait. Wagged their tails and licked me. No tags. No identifying marks. I've never seen them before. So now, in addition to all my furniture and half of the discarded carpet from my house, I have two full-grown retrievers in my garage. Since it's Sunday night, the Humane Society, PAWS and Animal Control are all closed. My dog is climbing the walls to get to these new playmates and I'm wondering how I'm going to get them to someone who can get them home. My girls have fed them, petted them, and are scheming to keep them. Bubba just wants his birthday dinner.

Somehow, I've got to figure out how to feed my girls, get them bathed, pack their lunches, and have birthday cake before midnight. And it's not even a full moon.

6 comments:

Jill of All Trades said...

Wow, what a day. I know how the best laid plans can get all mucked up very quickly. Hang in there. Hope the animal crisis works out.

Carrie Wilson Link said...

Ye gads!

Happy (?) birthday, Bubba!

Michelle O'Neil said...

I hope you drove the dogs right over to Carrie's.

I'm going to go take a nap after reading this post.

Happy Birthday.

Deb Shucka said...

I'm exhausted - and hungry. I hope Bubba loved every minute of this time with his amazing one-of-a-kind family.

I the new carpet his birthday present? :)

Anonymous said...

Your life is full, if it were not, you would be bored stiff! ~ M

Jerri said...

Happy Birthday, Bubba. Great to hear that Lola's okay, but what happened to the dogs?

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