Jodi And The Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Zoo Day

Yesterday was crappy. No way around it; it stunk! Sometimes, it feels like everything in the world is conspiring against you just to watch you twist on a hot tin roof. Life remembers the words you say, and it likes to throw them back in your face sometimes. Those lessons are so hard. I know it may sound paranoid to view life this way, but I'll go on the assumption that most of you have felt that way before. Listen to my day. We arrived at the zoo, ran into some friends from church, so far, so good. Jackson begins whimpering that he wants to ride the train, so off we go to catch the zoo train. As I pull up, the cute little girl behind the counter informs me the train is leaving; the train, evidently, waits for no one, especially a sippy cup juggling mom of two with a complicated to close up double stroller. I tell her this is not a problem. I will purchase my round trip ticket and race the train on foot to the next boarding station. I give her a twenty. Problems begin. She has to count and recount the change, and when I attempt to leave, she asks if I got the correct change. I smile encouragingly; I am no math whiz myself. Yes you did, I tell her. We swiftly turn around and head out to race the train to the next station. Jackson looses a shoe. I stop to put the shoe on its proper foot. The whimpering continues. No shoe on the foot. It hurts, owie, owie, owie. I smile, only a little perturbed, and shove his sweet little foot into the shoe. We are off again to race the train! I am in a walking zone. My double stroller is a jogging stroller, and it moves with great ease. I dream of walking myself into the perfect size ten jeans. I am poolside by the Bellagio, and the cabana boy is oogling me. Who would ever guess I am the mom of two? The mom of two behind me who has retrieved Molly's shoe, that's who. End of daydream, enter cold hard reality in the shape of my daughter's bare foot. I offer my gratitude to the mom who unselfishly bent down to pick it up. Really, as a mom I know I have passed over socks, shoes and all sorts of things at the zoo. The last time we lost a shoe at the zoo (yes, it has happened before), I felt so trashy with Molly in her bare feet. I try to cram Molly's sweet little foot into the sandal, only slightly more perturbed than before. And we are off. We arrive at the station, and the train is already there. We were no where close to beating it, but I show my pass to the sweet girl behind the counter, who informs me the train is broken, and will be down for a few hours. Jack begins to wail. I want to ride the train. I want to ride the train. I inquire about the carousel. It, too, is broken it seems. I am feeling more than a little irked. A mechanical looking man informs me it will only be broken a while. Great, it is almost lunch time. We head to the barn first, and then to lunch. My fabulous double jogging stroller that moves so quickly has one main drawback; it's width. I try not to hold this against the stroller as I am currently suffering similar a similar problem. So, when I try to enter the restaurant, I become stuck and have to jiggle the stroller to get it in the door. While the stroller jiggles, Jack yells, and I realize he has almost fallen out. Other mom begin to glower. Finally, the stroller fits through the door. After I get my food and As I pay out, the man behind me begins to push while I am locating my credit card and instructing Jackson and Molly to stay seated in the stroller. Molly stands up over and over, forcing me to lock her in the stroller. When I finally get my receipt, I am almost outside from the pushing man. I think about shoving my stroller the opposite way into him and his tray, but decide to take the high road. Did Jesus ever shove back? What would my children think if I instigate a fight with a grown man. I breathe deeply and move to the closest table. Eating commences, while I try to feed my brood and me. Lunch is over in five minutes, and Jackson slips out of chair to inquire about the train ride. We encounter the same width stroller problem leaving, only this time, with no one watching, I master it beautifully. Of course. The train, I am informed by a cute girl with a mouth full of lunch, is still broken. As is the carousel. Molly begins to wail. She is tired, has not had a nap, and is on the verge of a breakdown. I shove a pouch of cheetos at her, and that does the trick. I vow to find something the kids can enjoy before we leave the zoo. Jackson finds a picture booth. He wants us to take a picture. Great idea as I have taken the time that morning to apply mascara. I snatch the cheetos away from Molly, which makes her wail, locate a wipe to clean her face which also makes her scream, and enter the booth. I read the sign that states the picture booth is out of film. We have to leave. I am beginning to curse underneath my breath. I load the kids up and we leave the zoo. I ask Jack if he has to pee before we go, and he does not. I go through the whole process of loading up the kids, to only see Jack grab his wiener and anybody can understand what that means. I take him to the side of the car to pee. I have no other option. He cannot wait five minutes for us to walk back to the restroom and Molly is already in her car seat. I don't have a potty in my car. I tell him to tee tee on the cigarette, thinking if someone can smoke and throw out a cigarette, my son can pee on it. I have taken the time to shield him from view, although it probably doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what we are up to. Not even a rocket scientist, or zoo patrol, who come driving up on the situation. I have never seen them before, but there they are. Luckily, they pay no attention to the mom of two loading her car. Thank the Lord for small miracles.
Molly falls fast asleep on the way home. Jack does not. He has decided to be no nap Jack today. Fast forward to home, an hour of Thomas videos and me trying not to pass out on the sofa. We rewatch the Thomas song so I can learn it. Molly wakes up and we go upstairs. Jack is getting that funny look, that poopoo look, so I put him on the potty. He informs me, I no go potty, the poopoo won't come out. It's not coming out mommy. Okay. Fine. I am not going to potty train him at gun point, I am not one of those moms who potty trains like a drill sergeant. Five minutes later, Jack informs me he has gone in his pants. No problem. Accidents happen. I clean him up, sit him on the potty and ask him if he needs to go more. He tells me no. So I put on clean underwear. While Molly wails because I have had to go downstairs. Momma, Momma, Momma, she screams. It happens again. More Poo. I yell. I admit it. Come on, he is obviously doing this on purpose! Right? Get me the water gun. I am going to potty train him at gunpoint. Seriously, there is a potty training boot camp, right? After he is clean, he and Molly begin to fight over Bertie the Bus. Molly says No, no, no, no, to Jack. Jack wrestles Molly to the ground, and I separate them. Molly yells at me for giving Bertie back to Jack. Jack turns on the tv, and I begin to cry. Jackson comes and gives me a kiss with Bertie in his hands. Bertie is a moving train, and I feel my hair being pulled. My hair has gotten caught in Bertie's wheel. I laugh. And Laugh. And grab a pair of scissors. What else can I do? The joke is on me.
You see, before I had children or even intended to have children, I used to muse to Mike about what stay at home mom's did all day. What a life, I thought. Take your kids to the zoo, the museum, fry a couple of pancakes. What's the big deal? And now I know. Life is having a good time with me!