Shall we? Here’s the thing – you’d think that a holiday weekend would provide us all with two terrific benefits: the beautiful addition of a weekend day and the crucial removal of Monday, the bottom-dweller of the work week. That’s the way it’s meant to be. Occasionally, though, the Tuesday of the holiday weekend decides that it has a noble duty to take on the pressures and pains of Monday, for reasons I cannot fathom. Stinky Tuesday. What is its problem?!
This particular Tuesday, the one that thankfully ended 48 hours ago, was wedged between the social revolving door of Memorial Day and the arrival of Tom’s parents from Australia on Wednesday morning. A great deal was expected of it, and I suppose it was too much to ask that it simply behave itself. It all started with a baby bird.
Tom and Honey found this scrappy little thing at the base of our neighbor’s stoop on Monday night. Honey, of course, wanted to scoop it up and bring it in for the night, but we persuaded her to hold off. Well, first thing in the morning, they went across the street and found it still shivering on the ground looking very much like it had been bumped out of its nest in the climbing roses nearby. They took it in and found some sites that talked about feeding baby birds. I was suspicious.
I’m sorry – I know this picture is blurry but it’s the only one I got with the little guy’s mouth open. It was pretty cute in a squawky kind of way. I left Tom with the bird and took the kids to school, where I had a chat with my friend Lauren, who told me that they had scrub jays in their yard, and that those birds kick the babies out of the nest at a pretty young age. Back home, I looked them up online, and sure enough, they looked just like our little birdie. Tom had called the local Wildcare folks for advice, and he spoke to me about it afterwards.
Tom: “I wish our pediatricians were as great as the Wildcare people!”
That’s saying something, because our pediatricians are awesome.
The Wildcare lady called me and reviewed our next steps, which went something like this; return the baby bird to the place we found it, monitor its behavior throughout the day, bring it in if it gets overheated. Basically it was an hour out of the day which ended in this lesson: don’t mess around with nature, stupid. Turns out that is exactly what scrub jays do with their babies, even though it seems pretty ridiculous in a world full of cats.
Ok, back on track, I was going to really be efficient for the rest of the day. So I dashed up to the shopping center near us, and did my last birthday shopping for Tom who is 40 on the 4th. Woohoo! I bought a couple of nice things at the shops, then ran into the grocery to stock up on some basics. I was fast, I was on fire. I got back to the car, and while I was unloading, the owner of the car next to mine asked me a question, so I answered and we chatted a moment. I was fast, I was friendly!
Back home, I did some work, I put the groceries away, I got ready to pick up Hot Wheels and his best buddy from school who comes home with us after Kindergarten on Tuesdays. I thought – I’d better hide those gifts for Tom. Now, what did I do with that bag?
I left that bag in the bottom of my shopping cart, that’s what. You know that feeling when your heart just sinks like a stone? And you’re grateful the kids aren’t around to hear you swearing? Hmm, hello Tuesday. I called all the shops, and they politely didn’t laugh at me when I asked if anyone had turned in my bag. Then after I got the boys from school, we even drove up there to look, just in case. It was crazy busy, it took forever, it was useless. I was kicking myself for being in such a hurry and not paying attention to what I was doing. I’ve never left a bag under the cart like that before.
Back home, I traded in Hot Wheel’s friend at the regular school release time (Kindergarten gets out early) for Honey and my California goddaughter, who spends Tuesday afternoons with us. We came home and I thought I’d try to make up my lost time and work like mad. Hot Wheels asked for a snack, so I said, “I’m super crazy busy, Hot Wheels – just grab the cheese from the fridge, and I’ll slice it for you to eat with some crackers.” He went into the fridge and a moment later I heard an uh-oh. Turned to see that he’d pulled out a huge bag of shredded mozzarella that wasn’t sealed properly, and there were mounds of cheese all over the bin, the fridge, the floor. Just everywhere. Ok, should have taken a moment to do that job myself.
Then my friend Sherri swung by to pick up her daughter, and we were chatting. This is where it gets really good, people. I was talking to Sherri about my crazy day and my poor lost bag, and how I blamed myself for doing too many things at once, and while I was talking to her… I superglued a piece of a ceramic bowl to my finger.
Not intentionally, of course. I was fixing this broken bowl, talking to Sherri, Honey came in with a question and in a flash of distraction, I slipped and completely stuck myself to this ceramic shard. I kid you not. What a knucklehead.
I suppose it’s not entirely fair to blame Tuesday for all this. The universe was clearly sending me a message – with a bullhorn – but I had a banana in my ear.