TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2014
I had to pick up Peyton early from school today so that I could get her to an orthodontist appointment. I was dreading this appointment, as she hadn’t been wearing her palette expander in a couple weeks because it was “broken” (I found out it wasn’t), we missed a couple appointments due to illness and the Polar Vortex knocking out our power and I knew the new retainer we were going to pick up wasn’t going to fit. I didn’t want to get yelled at. I HATE getting yelled at. Deep down I knew it was kinda my fault, so the lickings I would take were justified, but I still didn’t want to hear it.
We’re cruising along I-90 and Peyton was playing on the iPad in the back seat. She mentioned she was a little warm, so I knocked a log off the fire and cooled the car down a bit. (Crap.) Another mile down the road and I hear “Can you roll the window down, Mommy”. (Double crap.) I roll the window down, she sticks her head out like a Lab and for the moment, she’s fine. We begin our ascent on to the exit ramp and I roll the window up. Why? Because the air flow was making my ears do that popping thing and instead of equalizing the pressure by rolling another one down, I decide to roll UP the window of the possibly-about-to-be-carsick child. (Mistake.) We stop at the light of the exit ramp and I hear it. The gurgle. I turn around it was like a scene out of a suspense flick when the camera zooms in from your perspective, but the rest of the world kinda zooms out. I hit the roll down button on the window, turned in to the first parking lot I found and thar she blew. Almost opening the door in time. I fly out of my seat, head to the back door and see the nastiness that is the return of a school lunch hot dog. She finishes up and I take a wad of tissues out of my purse to try to salvage… well… anything. I do a basic wipe down and back in the car we go. It’s now time for the orthodontist appointment. (Poor bastard.)
In all actuality, the orthodontist is probably the best possible scenario as your next order of business after your kid ralphs. They’ve got everything you need to freshen up. New toothbrushes, toothpaste and rinse. I did, however, still decide that I should tell the orthodontist’s assistant that she had, in fact, just vomited less than 5 minutes prior. Just in case there was another return. The lady was so nice. She just smiled and said “Ok.”
The rest of the appointment went exactly how I had imagined. I got that “do you even CARE about your child’s dental health?!” look from the doc as he heard about our lack of dedication to the crank and to her palette expander. I deserved it. I hated it, but I deserved it.
Now back in the car, kids! It’s time to find a car wash!
It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to clean the inside of my car, so I decide to splurge and let a laserwash handle the chunks of hot dog stuck to the door on the outside. There’s a long line and I’m about 5 cars back. Only one of the two bays is working. Of course. A car goes in. We inch forward. It’s now the turn of the silver Toyota to pay her money and wait. She’s hanging out her car window playing with the machine. Hanging. Still hanging. Trying to pay. Nothing is happening. We’re not moving. Peyton, in her perfect and unplanned comedic timing says, “Mom, I’m hungry. I lost a lot of hot dog back there.” Immediately, I laugh and the stress of the technologically challenged silver Toyota leaves me. The white SUV behind her gets of her car to offer assistance, so I roll down my window to listen in. “It won’t wooooork! It’s taking my card, but nothing is haaaaaapening!”. Ugh. I’m in a position where I can bail out of the line (thank God) and do just that. Off to Speedway I go.
I pick Speedway because I know they have a car wash, I needed gas and, most importantly, I had a coupon for a free coffee. A free coffee coupon is like gold to me! I’ve been hoarding that sucker for a few weeks, waiting for a perfect moment to use it. After cleaning up returned hot dog, being scolded by the orthodontist and waiting 10 minutes in line for a broken car wash, today was for sure the day!
I pull in the Speedway, insert my rewards card (that’s an extra 3-cents off!) and read “Can not read card” on the screen. MOTHER PUSS BUCKET! This is not my day. I try again. Same message. One more time… ya know… just in case. Error. I climb back in my car and change pumps. I scan my Speedway card and the machine yet again mocks me. I can only imagine that others were now looking and wondering what the problem was for the technologically challenged blue Saturn Vue (karma for me being impatient with the silver Toyota.) I decide, screw it! I don’t need the 3-cents off and just insert my credit card, which the machine was ever-so-pleased to accept. I fill the tank and as I drive away, I look up to see the huge sign that says I’m at… Sheetz. And thus explaining why my Speedway card didn’t work.
Peyton decides that she likes the look of the laser wash across the street better than the Sheetz drive-thru, so we make our way over. I opened the sunroof cover so the kids could see the soap and water hitting the roof. Simple things make them happy and I dig it. Per the usual, there was bird poo on my sunroof and they thought that was hysterical. Ben offers up that “if it was bird pee, it wouldn’t have been that bad.” Hmmm. Do birds pee? I honestly didn’t know. I don’t like potty talk and my immediate gut reaction to Ben was my standard “Don’t talk like that!” response, but I held off. I had no idea if birds pee, so I decided to turn it in to a National Geographic-type potty chat. What to do now? I asked Siri. And the kids are practically dying in the back seat as they hear their Mom question “do birds pee?” in to her magical device. Siri took me to a web search, perhaps too horrified to answer the question herself. Maybe she doesn’t like potty words, either. (If you’re wondering, bird droppings contain both urine and poo. Thank you, World Wide Web.)
We finish up at the car wash, head to the real Speedway (I still deserved my free coffee) and home we went. An unplanned trip with some bumps in the road, but instead of stressing out, we laughed. A lot. Which may just be worth the hot dog I have yet to clean out of the inside of my car.