My environMENTAL streak set in today. That is, after the girls and I DROVE our non electric vehicle to the library. After story hour, I poured my melting toddler into the stroller, slung a pack full of gifts on my back, strapped Ana to my chest and set my sights on the post office. I have turned over a new leaf in life, now that I'm up to my eyeballs in children and diapers, I am sending baby gifts to every new mom I know. Maybe it's pity (welcome to MY world), maybe it's guilt for not sending them a gift for their wedding (WHAT!? I WAS broke!).
Regardless of the motive, I'm halfway to the post office with four gifts and two kids. No doubt, a sure fire recipe for disaster. I start by shoving the first gift box into a pink padded envelope. It-uh-almost-ugh-fit-ugh-!SMACK! Shelby's feet decided to defy gravity and I spun around with the half stuffed gift in hand only too late to realize I had cleared the work table of 10,000 Moving Postcards. Great.
With every yelp, Shelby's cries are squeezing more perspiration out of my forehead as she dramatically picks herself off the floor. I can't reach past the baby pack to legibly scribble an address without Ana's sticky fingers grabbing the pen from my hand. Beads of sweat are dripping down my face now, Shleby's yelping, I scribble a congratulations on the second gift box when Ana snatches a scrap of paper from the table. SWIPE!!!! A papercut across my nostrils. OWEEEE!!
I'm bleeding from the nose. Youch! So I squeeze it with my free hand and force myself to focus on the task at hand. I can't abort my mission-it'll be another 3 years before I get back here with gift wrapped presents AND the coinciding addresses. I reread my note: "Welcome to the World Baby Olivia..." Isn't this blue striped gift for Baby Graham? I did NOT just write ON the wrong gift....AUUGGHHHH! "Ana, PLEeeeeaasssse stop pulling the pen out of my hand!!"
By now, I'm seconds from a full blown heart attack, not to mention being drenched with nervous perspiration, AND every postal worker is lined up at the counter to watch the final scene of this ridiculous event I call my life.
One full hour later, I successfully mailed all four gifts (two of which were torn or scribbled on but who's counting?). AND THEN I pushed the stroller uphill two blocks to the car with Ana on my chest. It might as well have been raining because my luck couldn't be any worse. And the post office has a restraining order against me.
Regardless of the motive, I'm halfway to the post office with four gifts and two kids. No doubt, a sure fire recipe for disaster. I start by shoving the first gift box into a pink padded envelope. It-uh-almost-ugh-fit-ugh-!SMACK! Shelby's feet decided to defy gravity and I spun around with the half stuffed gift in hand only too late to realize I had cleared the work table of 10,000 Moving Postcards. Great.
With every yelp, Shelby's cries are squeezing more perspiration out of my forehead as she dramatically picks herself off the floor. I can't reach past the baby pack to legibly scribble an address without Ana's sticky fingers grabbing the pen from my hand. Beads of sweat are dripping down my face now, Shleby's yelping, I scribble a congratulations on the second gift box when Ana snatches a scrap of paper from the table. SWIPE!!!! A papercut across my nostrils. OWEEEE!!
I'm bleeding from the nose. Youch! So I squeeze it with my free hand and force myself to focus on the task at hand. I can't abort my mission-it'll be another 3 years before I get back here with gift wrapped presents AND the coinciding addresses. I reread my note: "Welcome to the World Baby Olivia..." Isn't this blue striped gift for Baby Graham? I did NOT just write ON the wrong gift....AUUGGHHHH! "Ana, PLEeeeeaasssse stop pulling the pen out of my hand!!"
By now, I'm seconds from a full blown heart attack, not to mention being drenched with nervous perspiration, AND every postal worker is lined up at the counter to watch the final scene of this ridiculous event I call my life.
One full hour later, I successfully mailed all four gifts (two of which were torn or scribbled on but who's counting?). AND THEN I pushed the stroller uphill two blocks to the car with Ana on my chest. It might as well have been raining because my luck couldn't be any worse. And the post office has a restraining order against me.
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