Friday was all too typical.
Let me begin on Wednesday, when this saga kicks off.
This week is Teacher Appreciation Week at his school, which means I needed to provide a 4x6 photo of the boy smiling for a project. Well, getting the boy to cooperate with such an endeavor is no small feat. He is not necessarily willing to just stand still and smile at the same time. He is willing to hop and smile, flap and smile, talk non-stop about Star Wars and smile, yes, but stand still and smile NATURALLY? Out of the question.
So, Wednesday night I frantically take a series of candid photos. 13 photos to be exact (sorry, Barney, that is just the way it shook out).
Here are the photos:
Okay, so at this point, I think I will be lucky and get some good shots.
And then he insists on holding his mouth wide open.
This is so hilarious, that he refuses to close his mouth.
For several pictures.
Because his audience/sister also finds it hilarious.
So very very hilarious.
And the fun continues, because this just never stops being funny.
Even looking at the camera is freakin' impossible, because hahahahahahahaha!
And at long last, I am lucky enough to capture something that isn't blurry or unacceptable!
Yeah! Two shots!
And then, it all falls apart again.
And...I call it quits because, what the hell?
So then I edit the photos so the child doesn't look orange and honey-dipped. And attempt to print a copy.
And the goddamn printer is out of Magenta ink. So I have to HURRY and order a new cartridge to arrive on Friday, because I have to get the photo into the school in the appropriate kid's folder by 3:30pm on Friday.
Okay, so that is dealt with for the time being.
Now, back to Friday.
By the time Friday rolls around we are kind of under the gun getting ready for Her Serene Highness, Baby C's birthday. I have completely forgotten about the photo that is due by 3:30. That is until the dog goes thermonewkuler when UPS delivers the printer cartridges at 2:00pm.
OH SHIT! THE PICTURE!!
So I have to scramble to print the photos and get them to the school.
All you Moms out there know how hard it is to get out of the house. Even when you are just getting out of the house to run what should only be a 20 minute errand. As my sister-in-law wisely told me, "Getting out of the house is the hardest part. Once you are out, STAY OUT!"
So while I was out, I decided to get Baby C's balloons. This turned my quick little outing into a much longer one. By the time I got home, it was pretty much time for baths and stories and bed for the babies. This was a particularly rough one since they were VERY VERY excited about Baby C's birthday the next day.
After they finally went to sleep (probably pushing 8pm at this point) and I was sure they weren't going to continue their Wack-a-Mole style of bed time, I was able to bring the balloons and presents downstairs.
Right about then is when Mr. Smith and I realized we had forgotten to eat dinner.
So at a little after 9pm, and believe me, I am so ashamed to write these words, Mr. Smith went out to get me McDonald's food (I use the term "food" loosely here, since what they sell can barely be called food).
He returns home with the "food" and picks up the Tivo remote to rewind a scene on The Big Bang Theory (one of his favorites) as he is hitting the button, he is sitting down on the bed, and suddenly the television goes completely black.
Me: What the hell did you just do?
Mr. Smith: I have no idea! I just hit the 30-second rewind button.
Me: No! You hit the power and turned everything off.
Mr. Smith: My finger was nowhere near the power button!
Me: Well it MUST have been because you turned EVERYTHING OFF!
Mr. Smith: That's just not possible.
Me: Wait, everything is off. You couldn't have done that. Almost like the power went off.
Mr. Smith goes to the window and looks out at our street. Indeed, it is completely dark, not even street lights. The power is off on our street and several others. And then we start to hear the cacaphony of the multiple UPS units that provide backup power to our many many computers and other electronics.
Mr. Smith sprints down the stairs to assess the damage. This goes on for a while. I stay upstairs, eating and then I realize that I am sitting in the total darkness, on a Friday night, eating french fries. Suddenly I feel like too much of a giant loser to go on and I throw what is left of the food in the garbage.
We go to sleep.
Approximately 30 minutes later the kids wake up and realize that their light is off and their fan is off and they can hear our asshole neighbors racing up and down the street, screaming and yelling. Apparently this is the accepted response to losing power in a Southern California gated community, you go all ghetto and start looting.
We calm the children down and they go back to sleep almost immediately. That is until they wake up 45 minutes later and wander the hall, wondering what the hell went wrong with their lives. Or maybe they were just curious about why they were in total dark with no fan to cover the noise of their neighbors being asshats.
Out of desperation, Mr. Smith and I dragged his inflatable bed into the the kids' room for an impromptu slumber party. I would rather not get into the whole ridiculous story of the inflatable bed, but suffice it to say that we have been sick since mid-February and the snoring (his and mine) has been epic.
So everyone goes back to bed and back to sleep...until the power comes back on an hour later (12:38) and the whole damn place gets lit up like a Christmas tree. Mr. Smith sneaks out of the kids' room and scampers through the house, making sure that everything had come back on (servers, computers, etc.) properly.
He falls back into bed at about 1:30am.
And then the darling little cherubs wake us both up at 3:53am...because they are so flipping excited about Baby C's damn birthday.
When I come out of our room, Mr. Smith is kind of half walking/half crawling down the hall toward our room. His eyes are not opened and he looks crazed with lack of sleep. He brushes past me without a word and falls into our bed. I did not see him again until after 6:00am.
Later that day, you know, after the sun is up and setting again, Mr. Smith calls me upstairs to see the scene of the crime (below).
It seems that Archie had found my secret shame, the guilty loser french fries, dragged them out of the garbage, eaten through the bag and inhaled what was left of the fried "food" in the bag.
Go ahead, judge me.
I know you are all just green with envy.
I know you all just wish your little life was as glamorous and exciting as mine is.