A Lunch for Brunch Kind of Day...

I woke up

in tears this morning.

I had a dream about my mom.

This anniversary is

really getting to me.

Get the oldest off to school

and load the monkey and the ellebelle in the car.

Head to the ASU bookstore to get a t-shirt

for my brother-in-law's birthday.

Carefully pull my big, bad Tahoe

into the made-for-mini coupe space and

start scavenging through my seats for change

for the parking meter. 35 cents...great. I've got 13 minutes.

On our way in, an 18-ish looking guy (probably a psych major)

with purple shoes, carrying one of those really big skateboards,

calls me "Mam."

Ok...not happy about this!

Wasn't it not that long ago that I was napping in the MU between classes?

NO! It was 13 years ago! Dang...I'm older than I thought!

Thanks, cool dude with the long board, for reminding me I really am OLD.

14 minutes later,

with a bag full of Sparky this and Sparky that

(I didn't have time to argue with the kiddos. I'm on the clock here.),

I head back to the car.

Cal, afraid of "The Police,"

spies a security guy checking out my meter.

He starts to cry, turn tail, and run.

Quick as I am, I snatch the monkey before he escapes,

grab the ellebelle, scoop them up,

along with my Sparky paraphernalia,

and run toward the parking meter.

After five minutes of convincing this power hungry

"security (seriously who's he kidding)" guy that my meter JUST ran out,

I got off scot-free!

Thank goodness I put on makeup and wore the tight jeans...

apparently not TOO old!

On my way home,

I call my sis to double-check if the size XXL Tshirt I got Casey will fit.

"Uh-no way!" Crap, back to the bookstore tomorrow for an exchange!

Am I the only woman on earth terrible at sizing up men?

Exhausted, I get home, fall to the couch,

and flip on MSNBC for a little convention coverage.

Ring, Ring...I hate it when my home phone rings...

It is never good,

nor anyone I care to talk to.

"This is the nurse at school."

Oh, great...can't be good.

"It is Brunch for Lunch day today."

She laughs.

"Max has managed to get syrup on his clothes and needs a change."

Well, I couldn't have guessed this.

"What does he need? A shirt?"

"Max, do you need your mom to bring you socks and shoes, too?"

Is she kidding?

"He just needs a shirt and shorts."

Ok. Wake the ellebelle and throw her back into the car.

I walk through the door and see Max sitting in the hallway,

eating french toast sticks,

grinning from ear to ear.

Behind him, also smiling, the nurse and principal.

Apparently, he has them under his spell.

He is covered from chest to knees in syrup.

The nurse swears is was an accident,

but I know better.

I have inside information into this little boy

and this was, in no way,

an accident.

I hand Max his clothes, give him my look.

You know the one, Moms.

The one that says, we will deal with this at home later...

later, when I will say things to you that,

when I come to my senses, I will feel guilty about.

Yeah...I'll see you at home little man.

Finally, I get home. It is 1:00. It is just one of those days...