On Friday night, I was desperate for pizza. With an empty pantry and a long workday behind me, the last thing I wanted was to haul my two hungry kids to the grocery store. I went online to find Firetrail Pizza’s delivery number, but I should have taken their name as a warning. After getting disconnected twice, I finally reached someone only to find out I had called a brewery instead of a pizzeria. At that moment, I should have recognized the universe’s attempt at humor—offering me a beer while I was just trying to order dinner. But hunger took priority.
I started ordering a pear-gorgonzola pizza when my daughter, Mia, began to cry. I picked her up, she stopped. I set her down, and the wailing resumed. The person on the other end of the line was clearly annoyed. Determined to get my pizza, I barricaded myself in the master bedroom like a trapped animal, worried I might have accidentally ordered something like olives—yuck!
Twenty minutes turned into forty, and then an hour. My family’s patience was wearing thin, and I was tapping my fingers on the countertop, feeling the pressure build. Finally, I called the delivery driver, only to find out they had no record of my order. Bedtime was approaching, and I needed a solution fast, or I might have lost my sanity.
I placed an order for Thai food instead. A scathing Yelp review about pizza was definitely in my future. We ended up eating nearly three hours after my initial phone call. Where was my dinner? At this point, I just wanted wine to get through the night.
Saturday’s Struggles
On Saturday, my cranky, teething toddler decided to skip breakfast and cling to me like a koala, sobbing loudly in my ear. I desperately needed coffee and some peace. My five-year-old, Lucy, managed to sit in maple syrup while wearing her ballet leotard, and we were late for dance class. With a nice, brown stain on her behind, she opened her dance bag only to discover she forgot her tap shoes. But the show must go on.
She danced anyway—sticky and tap-less—while I snuck off to a nearby coffee shop with my toddler in tow. I placed my order, but as I went to pay, the barista informed me that my card was declined. I tried my debit card, praying it would work. After all, my paycheck had just been deposited on Friday.
As I stepped aside to call my bank, my daughter started tugging at my pant leg, tears streaming down her cheeks. In the chaos, my keys and credit card slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. Just as I bent down to gather my things, I felt a gust of air and realized my floral underwear was now on display for everyone in the café. I decided I would not leave without my latte.
With a swift motion, I scooted against the wall and grabbed my drink, all while imagining Lucy’s face as she waited for her late mom. When I finally arrived at the studio, the teacher looked utterly perplexed as I moonwalked to my car, trying to hide my embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.
I should have just stayed home after that, but no—there was still a swim lesson and a birthday party to attend. At the pool, Lucy chose to ignore the teacher’s instructions, and I watched my money float away as she lounged on the ledge instead of swimming. Thankfully, she eventually apologized and finished her lesson.
After swimming, we ventured to Target to buy a birthday gift. Upon arriving at Lucy’s friend’s house, we found it empty. A construction worker informed us that we were at the wrong birthday party, and it was the wrong day. I wanted to cry. Bee was whining, clearly in need of a nap, and we still had a party to make it to.
Despite being nearly two hours late, we rushed to Safeway to grab a gift. That’s when Lucy vanished. One moment she was by my side, and the next, she was gone. Panic set in as I frantically searched the aisles, calling her name while Bee squirmed in the shopping cart. Thankfully, ten minutes later, Lucy appeared as if nothing had happened, holding a book.
After scolding her, I paid for the gift and we headed to the party. When we finally arrived, I realized it was a Halloween-themed party, and we stood out like sore thumbs.
Sunday’s Chaos
On Sunday, I took Lucy to the correct birthday party with the right gift. It was sweltering outside, and Bee had a meltdown, attaching herself to the floor. We left early, and upon returning home, I realized there were still no groceries.
After a failed attempt to get Bee to the store, she threw a tantrum in the driveway, and I contemplated joining her.
When Monday rolled around, I dropped Lucy off at dance camp, counting my blessings—at least there were no syrup stains today. However, I realized I had locked my keys in her dance bag and had to interrupt her class to retrieve them, much to the embarrassment of both of us.
As I hurriedly left, I discovered I had also forgotten my phone in her bag. Just when I thought the chaos was over, I drove away, only to hear a loud THUNK. I soon realized my phone was now lost somewhere in Petaluma.
So, here’s hoping the streets of Petaluma enjoy my phone—it seems they needed it more than I did. It could always be worse… at least nobody took my wine or my precious latte.
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Summary
This post recounts a chaotic weekend filled with parenting mishaps, from failed pizza orders to lost keys and forgotten birthdays. It humorously highlights the challenges of juggling children and daily responsibilities while reminding readers that even the toughest days can have their silver linings.