And the week of living under Murphy's Law continues...
I locked my keys in the van yesterday.
The things I will do to have good blog fodder.
So where we left off, I was dragging all the kids around on my errand running. First stop, paying thousands of dollars so the twins will have nice smiles. Eventually. We were there for 45 minutes, about thirty minutes longer than Kyle and Kelly can tolerant so things were a bit hairy towards the end as I signed papers without really reading them. I probably agreed to neon braces and giving up Tooth Fairy rights and restraining orders to never bring Kyle and Kelly within 50 feet of the orthodontist office again.
The bank, the post office, and movie rental drop offs went well.
Next stop, the fabric store. As you know, I like to make lists. Because otherwise I forget what I'm doing or what I'm buying and I may end up trading a child for a giraffe at a flea market in New Jersey. After parking and unloading, I noticed I had forgotten my list in the van (maybe I need to write another list and include "don't forget original list in van"). The kids however continued running around the parking lot and generally trying to get themselves killed while I quickly climbed back into the van. I hit the lock button on the door and closed it while yelling at the kids to not run into any moving mini-vans (which Kyle has done by the way).
And then I realized the van keys were sitting on the front seat of the locked van. Oops...
But no problem, Greg has a van key with him. His office was 25 minutes away from our current location. I sent him a text message from my cell phone ("Locked keys in van. Help!") and we went fabric shopping. (Mostly zipper shopping but that's neither here nor there.) He called back and said he couldn't get away from the MAN PARTY. Or maybe something about being in all day training classes that he was personally giving. Did I have my AAA membership card? I did! It's a miracle! So I called them and after two phone number changes on their part, I told my sob story while trying to find size 3 sneakers for Emily (at that point, we were at the shoe store) and they said they'd have someone call and be out to help us within 75 minutes. Okay dokey!
75 minutes later and sitting in the children's section of a bookstore wasting time, I realized no one had called me. I called AAA back. There's no work order on my account. Huh? The computers had been down when I originally called and it seemed the manual ticket was lost. They'd send out another request and reset my 75 minute waiting clock.
To put this all in a time line, we left the house at 1pm. I locked the keys in the van around 2:30, I called AAA the first time at 3:15, and now at 4:30 they were saying the earliest I'd be back in the van was 5:45. Oy...
At 5:30 while letting the kids watch movies at an electronics store and contemplating buying a laptop, I called to check. Sorry Ma'am, we can't get to you until 6:15. At 6:10, I called. Sorry Ma'am, 6:30.
Finally at 6:25, a AAA truck pulled up. The kids were laying on the sidewalk amongst bags of shoes, books, and fabric (no laptop though) and looking as if they were victims of a war torn country. (My kids, the drama!) The guy wisely didn't ask any questions, popped open the van door within a minute, and didn't even have me sign any papers.
Today to be on the safe side, I'm declaring it PJ Day. Nothing can go wrong if we just stay home, right?
Never mind, don't answer that.
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