Last night I get Ava out of the bathtub and she wants me to blowdry her hair. Now I should mention that yesterday morning, I was blowdrying my hair and the power on my blowdryer sounded like it was going to die. Now I should also mention that I don’t have the best luck with blowdryers. There was the time that one caught on fire while I was blowdrying my hair…that was fun. Then there was the time I used a hotel blowdryer and it ate my hair…I’m not joking. I had to call my dad from the next room to get my hair out.
So I go to blowdry Ava’s hair and the stupid blowdryer won’t work. She starts crying. Mike’s on the phone and I’m like, “Babe, the stupid blowdryer isn’t working can you fix it?” He’s all, “Did you push the reset button? The red one?” I’m not a moron…of course I tried that. I have this cordkeeper blowdryer where you push a button and it sucks the cord up through the base. So I’ve done that…pulled it back out…nothings working. So he comes in, plugs it in and pulls the cord out only a little and it works. I’m like, “Are you SURE it works because if it doesn’t I need to go get a new blowdryer. Right. Now.” And he’s like, “Yep…I’m sure.” And I’m like, “Because if it doesn’t work tomorrow I’m going to be pissed. You’re sure it works.” He’s all, “Yeah…it works babe.”
Not wanting to tempt fate, I decide to leave it plugged in, untouched until this morning. I get out of the shower and go to use the blowdryer and it doesn’t work. IT DOESN’T WORK!!!!!! At this point I start freaking out. Most people wouldn’t freak out but I have a short haircut and was not blessed with straight hair. Some people might say, “Well then, just let it be curly for a day.” Those people have obviously not seen my hair when it air dries. It’s not good curly or wavy. It’s got parts that are stick straight and parts that are wavy and parts that flip up. It’s not pretty people. It just isn’t.
So here I am freaking out. I call Mike and of course at this point it’s his fault that my blowdryer is broken. I should have just gone out and bought one last night. He told me it was fixed so it’s totally his fault. So I call him and he asks me, “Did you press the red button?” Now I feel like I’m on that season of Lost where Desmond just has to keep pushing the button or something terrible is going to happen. OF COURSE I PUSHED THE RED BUTTON!!!! So I tell him that it kind of works if I don’t take the cord out but that it’s making a funny sound. He’s all, “Well, just try to use it that way.” Hmmm…let’s think about this for a moment. I have an electrical appliance that’s clearly having electrical issues and his advice is to give a go????
So I pull out my flat iron and decide to try to dry my hair this way. I’m frantic at this point. I’m running late…I have no idea how long it’s going to take to flatiron my hair dry and I’m a little terrified that all my flatiron is going to do is fry my hair. It worked…my hair looks like absolute crap today but at least it’s not curly…it just looks like crap.
Then Ava decides she has to dress herself this morning. She’s okay at this…slow…but okay. Her guidance to dressing herself is that the tags go in the back. Well, don’t you know the outfit I picked out today was one of those tagless shirts. So she’s all, “I can’t find the tag! The tag goes in the back. I can’t find the tag!!!” I yell from the other room, “Look for the writing. The writing goes in the back.” Her response, “Mom, what’s writing?” So I go in to help her…bad move on my part. She’s in total independent mode and doesn’t want my help. So now I’m trying to help her without her knowing I’m helping her. All the while, my patience is wearing really thin and the minutes are ticking away on the clock.
She’s finally dressed and I can’t find her Vans. Yes…the new Vans that she adores. So I’m like screw it, she can just wear these other shoes. Again…bad mommy. She starts having a meltdown about how she doesn’t want to wear those shoes…she wants to wear her Vans. So I run upstairs for like the 15th time this morning and can’t find them. I call Mike and he tells me they are on top of the entertainment center. Weird place for shoes but that’s where they were.
I’m finally going to get out the door. I’ve got her lunchpail, my purse, keys…and I’m ready to go. Then she wants me to carry her to the car. If you know my child, she’s an oversized 3 1/2 year old. She’s not fat…not by any means but my husband’s mission of breeding the shortness out of The Busbea’s went well and she’s over half the size of me and I’m carrying a bunch of crap. I may have snapped at this point. I may have said, “For the love of God Ava!!!!!!!!!!” This led to more crying. So I put all the stuff in the car, go back and carry her to the car and we’re on our way.
I call my friend Heather to complain about what a crappy morning I’m having and I think I said something like, “I just get so pissed when my mornings start this way.” Ava yells from the backseat, “MOM, WE DON’T SAY THAT WORD!” And all I could think was, “Who taught her that “pissed” is a bad word?” I’m quickly running out of words to say so I’ve stopped telling her which ones are bad so I don’t get reprimanded.
This has got to be my longest post yet but seriously…for all you people out there without kids, this is why parents are often late. Because some things are out of our control. It takes twice as long to do pretty much anything when you’ve got a little one in tow. And I’ve had people say, “Well, just make them.” All the parents out there are chuckling at that I’m sure. So my response is, “Let me know how that works out for you when your time comes.”
Lights. Camera. Life. 