I don’t know what it is about Tuesdays. We’ve had a major trauma-related, behavior meltdown almost every Tuesday for the past couple months.
We’re not-so-affectionately calling it Trauma Tuesday.
Yesterday almost went off without a hitch. Keyword: almost.
At 4:30 PM, after a successful (and I don’t use that word lightly) day of school, we headed out for drum lessons, swim lessons, and Tae Kwon Do. They’re all within walking distance so it’s not as bad as it sounds.
Three minutes up the road, I check in with my almost 7-year-old and realize that he had not only forgotten about his shower bag, but he was not wearing shoes.
After dropping off the kids at their respective drum and swim lessons, I sat back to catch up on the news.
Knock knock on my car window.
Crud. It’s our Grafted staff couple showing up for their headshot mini session that I forgot about. I totally used my cell phone camera to do a session.
Tae Kwon Do actually went off without a hitch until I was ready to leave with 5 out of 6 kids. Can you guess which one was dawdling?
I told her to go with Dad and left.
She came out in time to see us pulling away. Instead of going back inside to find Patrick, she left on foot.
Meanwhile, I take the rest of the crew to shower at the local Y. (It’s so much faster when you have a 1:1 person to shower ratio). John had forgotten his shower bag at TKD so I put him in charge of Ty (also no shower bag). I come out of the shower, and the boys are no where in sight. Not at any of our usual meeting spots. A couple minutes later they emerge from the men’s lockerroom. Come to find out, they hung out in the men’s lockerroom, and John let Ty sit there and laugh at all the naked men.
Are. You. For. Real?!?!
Abandon deep breathing for head banging.
Why on earth would he do that?
He tried to stop him but Ty wasn’t listening.
Son, you are THREE TIMES the scrawny brat’s size. PICK HIM UP AND TAKE HIM OUT!!
Oh. My. Word!!!
Back in the car, I call to touch base with Patrick.
WHAT!?! You don’t have Grace?!?! Fab.U.Lous.
Now we’re meandering around the dark shopping center at Tae Kwon Do looking for her while dragging around a shoeless Ty.
I do what any rational mother would do and call the police to file a missing person report.
Thank you, Murphy. Seconds after hanging up the phone a TKD instructor calls me to say they found Grace wondering around. I’m sure they want to give me the Mother-of-the-Year Award ASAP.
I call the dispatcher back to cancel my claim, and she tells me to have a good night.
The police are at TKD looking for me.
Apparently they have to see me in person even if I cancel a call.
Thank you, Ms. Dispatcher. That would have been nice to know. It would have also been nice if you had relayed the correct place to meet me so that I wouldn’t get my proverbial hand slapped by Mr. Cop for not being where I said I would be.
Dear small group, the wine may already be open when you get here tonight.