Okay, so I woke up in a bad mood, because I have the flu and insomnia and it’s raining, which gives me a headache. Of course, rain makes TinyTot sluggish and uncooperative, so getting ready for school is no fun.
Then, I remember husband has the car, and like I said it’s raining, and I remember all the good umbrellas are in the car. Bah Humbug.
That’s not too big a problem because TT has good raingear and I am already sick, so a little rain can’t hurt me. We walk out the door and what do you know, there are soldiers with m16s everywhere. (We live in Army housing, so this isn’t so much a shock as it would be if we lived in say, Toledo. Not an everyday thing, but it happens) Of course, TT has to talk to everyone of them, and we’re running late, but he has to talk because he’s convinced that if he is charming enough one of them will let him play with his gun. This slows us down considerably.
Going slow makes me miserable, because I’m sick and achey and don’t want to be cold and wet, too, but it’s unavoidable. It doesn’t help that every two blocks or so somebody has to stop me and ask me to whip out the old ID card. At one point, a particularly stupid soldier has to radio in to ask if a five year old needs his own ID. You know those wily five year old terrorists, always talking their mommies into helping them sneak bombs into US territory. Stupid soldier seems a little peeved that it turns out that TT can get through based soley on my word that he is a good and loyal citizen of the mother land.
We are almost at the school, when we just happen to run into TT’s father who is driving a humvee. TT is excited that we have a new family car; it takes a good five minutes to convince him that we still have to go around in our old crappy car (or we could, if husband hadn’t left it on yet another Army post) and no, his daddy can’t take him to school in the humvee.
Finally, we get to school and to my amazement no problems there except that I realize that TT has not only his pants but his underwear on backwards. I decide not to say anything.
Walk home, flash ID umpteen more times, get to apartment and realize guards out front are friends of husbands. Feel obliged to make coffee and bring snacks. Do so, happily, but realizing if this (armed guards) goes on for a while, I’m going to transform myself into full 50’s wife mode. You don’t want to see me like that…I go around baking cookies all freaking day and making sandwiches and coffee. Which isn’t too bad, until I start consulting Family Circle magazine for “fun” ways to wrap said cookies and sandwiches…without a trace of irony.
So, that was my boring morning, how was yours?
