Today, we returned our rental movies to the library, before they were past due.
... And that is the extent of good things that happened today.
See, it's been a long couple weeks. I've tried not to complain. But, sleepless nights combined with botched communication attempts with Husband, a teething infant, accidentally frozen debit cards (we forgot our pin #. Oops.) and ALL the ensuing bank calls/faxes/paperwork, an upcoming month of intense travel, an overgrown yard, this virus I can't kill, all added to several days in which everything I literally touched broke or stopped working...
All that culminated this morning, when we finally made contact with our beloved Husband/Daddy. See, we mailed our first box to him last week. And he got it last night. Yay! Unfortunately, several of the items that he'd previously needed, and we had scrambled to send him, he now no longer needed. And he was exhausted when we talked to him, so he was only mildly excited, and my needy ego sunk sadly. I'd pictured massive amounts of praise and gratitude for all my hard work. And he was grateful. Just... also tired.
So, I didn't get mad. I just felt deflated, and sad. We had prepared another box to mail, today, and I felt suddenly hopeless that it was worth the incredible effort to drive to the post office and get it sent. Thus, the day started.
Several hours, one broken dish, and four more laptop crashes later, I was loading the extremely-heavy box into our car. I had planned to go to "town" immediately after Daughter's first nap/second feeding. It would be at least an hour-long trip, counting drive time and standing-in-line time, and that was all I could squeeze in. But, when she woke up, she was sobbing, flushed, hot, and hysterical. I fed her, soothed her, and began to feel worried; she never acts like this. She shrieked and shrieked and shrieked for three hours without stopping - like someone was peeling off her toenails.
I summarily nixed the trip to the post office. We'd go after her next nap. If she ever fell asleep. Which seemed unlikely, amidst her inconsolable screams. We gave her Tylenol, Gripe Water, Saline, and so many cuddles. I was on the verge of putting her in the car and driving to Urgent Care (tho' I doubted they could do anything, I was completely out of ideas, and doubting my own assessment abilities) when she finally passed out on my chest, dead exhausted. This left me stranded on the couch, scared to move lest she wake back up. So, two more hours passed in which I could do nothing I had MEANT to do. Around 3:45, she woke up. Much better. Still sniffling and hiccuping, but clearly better. Whew!
Ok, we still had time. If we hurried. I flung us into the car. I even remembered my checkbook, since I wanted to drop our tithe check off at the church. (Our germs have kept us home most of this month.) Go me. We get to the post-office, I assemble her carrier and put her in it, heave the box and waddle into the post-office like a 3rd Trimester pregnant woman, leaning back to offset the weight of the box. I stand in line for about ten second before I realize...
I forgot my wallet.
A flare of adrenaline shot through my body, like when a huge dog jumps at you or you almost step on a snake.
No. No, it must be in the car.
But no. I had let Daughter chew on it earlier, during her (maybe teething?) episode earlier. It was probably still on the floor.
I took a deep breath. Went back to the car. Realized I had the checkbook. Hallelujah!
I opened it. It was empty.
Where is the new book of checks?!!! I almost swore. Not that swearing has ever made me feel better, even when I indulged in it. Must still be on the kitchen table. I had gone through Purgatory to get those new checks. Why, why, why?!
I sat down in the front seat, wanting to hit my head on the steering wheel slowly, like a movie character. A quick calculation said it was unlikely, but possible, to get back to base, then back to the post office before 5:00. Barely. Maybe. It was worth a shot.
Halfway to base, it hit me: You don't have your ID. It was in your wallet.
A little voice in my head screamed, "Noooooooo! This can't be happening!" Daughter was whimpering in the backseat. She was hungry. Of course. What would we DO? I started calling all my neighbors/friends on base. Not one answered their cell phones.
I was at the gate. I tried to persuade them to let me use the identification I DID have (which was mail, addressed to our on-base home, and various vehicle documents, heh.) Nope, sorry, they were just doing their job. I understood and helplessly pulled into the lot reserved for idiots who cannot get onto base.
Into the Visitor Center we went, having unloaded Daughter yet again and she was whimpering louder now - very hungry. There was no way we'd make it back to the post office today. I forced a smile and began answering questions to prove my identity to the agent, so he could issue me a temporary pass.
"Drivers License, please," he held out his hand.
"I, uh, it's in my wallet too. I left my whole wallet at home."
Their eyes bulged. As if no one else has EVER left their wallet at home.
"Well, ma'am, you can't drive without your license. We're legally obligated to keep you here until we see your license - it'd violate state and federal regulations if--"
I cut off Barney Fife. "I hear you. I understand." Another polite smile. "I'll just... keep calling my friends."
We went back to the car. I kept dialing. Considered feeding my baby right there, in the parking lot. Suddenly, I got a call back. A blessed neighbor was coming to get my garage door opener, and go searching for my wallet.
Twenty minutes later, we were all heading home. I did drop the movies at the library, though. Go me.
Back at home, I sat down on the couch and cried while feeding my very wide-eyed child. Not sure why forgetting my ID had done it. But, I was officially overwhelmed. I'd never get packed for our trip. I'd never manage to be caught up on projects, laundry, eating, and personal hygiene, on the same day. I'd never sleep again. I couldn't even cry right; I sounded like an adolescent seal, whose voice was changing. Life was hopeless.
So, I ate ice cream. And tried to laugh. But, just kept crying. And I left the dishes, and the crummy counter tops, and messy floors, and unopened emails, and went straight to bed as soon as Daughter dozed off. We'll try again tomorrow.
And I slept. For an hour. And then, Daughter woke up again. Screaming.
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