The Three Popsicle Day

We don’t go on too many weekend family outings, because on the days that I am home, J works (and vice versa). So this morning, when I was standing in the center of our little town at 9:56 a.m. and it was clear that the Memorial Day parade was not today (and, probably, in fact would be on Memorial Day) I couldn’t just stomp my feet, scream in frustration and run to the nearest bookstore to deal. Nope. It was just me. And three kids. (One of whom I HAD WOKEN FROM HER MORNING NAP TO GET HERE.) In perfect time for a 10:00 a.m. parade. Only we were two days early.

When it said on the T-ball schedule that there wouldn’t be games today because of Memorial Day weekend and that the team could march in the parade instead, I assumed that the parade was today. In place of the game. Oh, no no no. There is no causality here. Just, no T-ball. And a parade. That the T-ball players can march in. On Monday.

Well, B might be marching in it now. That wasn’t the original plan, since J had to work this am and couldn’t march with him, but now, since we missed it … Well, since we missed it, frankly, things started to work out.

Oh sure, I had an inner temper tantrum on the street in front of the bank (and a partial outer temper tantrum in the form of a phone call to J). And then I had to rally. No way were we walking home. Home these days is a battle zone. It is a battle of patience and wills every minute of the day. Since B turned 5 he’s become smarter and meaner. And decidedly unable to listen, hear or otherwise respond to me, unless I let slip the word “popsicle” or the phrase “John Deere.” (I am quite serious.)

So, we weren’t going home. It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday. I was to have the kids by myself all day. And our plans had evaporated right before our very eyes. Oh, and the kids were in tears because they were really counting on candy from this parade. All I had? Cheddar Bunnies. But we ate those Cheddar Bunnies. Even the baby ate those Cheddar Bunnies. And then we ALL walked to the nearest bookstore. The wonderful neighborhood bookstore, overflowing with treasures in used books. With a children’s section in the back complete with old toys and stuffed animals, pillows on the floor, and absolutely no expectation that we will keep our voices down or buy a book. But we always do. Buy a book, I mean. And today, well, today it worked out. Today not only did B find Magic Treehouse books, but S found a book with lots of “doctohs and nuhses,” and I found the next book for our book group (Sarah, you can borrow it when I’m finished).

Then we walked home. And we read. Chapters for B and medical dramas for S (a girl after my own heart). And we ate lunch and popsicles. And we read some more. And the baby napped. And it was hot, and the afternoon stretched out before us and I knew this day could turn back to ugly fast, so we went to the park. To the wonderful neighborhood (to us) oasis with playgrounds and open fields and a water spray park. And a popsicle stand. And we went to the spray park. And the popsicle stand. And the playgrounds.

And we got home at 4:00. Perfect. Time for the kids to wind down with a video and me to scrounge up dinner.

And then I checked my e-mail, where I was reminded that our friends, who just bought a house around the corner, were having a party. 4:00 is usually not a good time for a party. Not for my kids. But, well, let’s just say this e-mail was very persuasive. And so, swimsuits were traded for shorts, and around the corner we went.

And there were no catastrophes. No tantrums. No bathroom “accidents.” No tears. (Not even from me.) We ate, we played. There were more popsicles. And when it was time to go home, the kids were ready.

And now, it is 8:30. My house is quiet. J is still working. All three kids are sleeping, in their own beds. And I am breathing a sigh of relief.

And you probably didn’t need to read that play-by-play of my day. But I needed to write it. Just to remind myself how crappy it all started, and how it all ended OK. Not great Not perfect. But OK. Somehow, it all worked out.