Not My Day

Yesterday my day started off great. I woke up refreshed, got a good workout. . Let that be a lesson to me. Things can always get worse. Observe.

When blow-drying my hair, I began smelling burning. . .curious. Ah! It's me, or rather, it's a chunk of my hair now lying in my hand! I panic because today is Sawyer, my future stepson's birthday party at Discovery Gateway (the Children's Museum at the Gateway Outdoor Mall), which I have pretty much planned and am super-excited for. I'll be seeing lots of people today, some friends of Stuart's that I have never met. . . .Now, they get to meet Stuart's bald fiancee. With Katie's help I discover it's not that bad. Okay, moving on.

Next, it's time to get Sawyer's birthday balloons. Walking into the store, I can tell this is going to be a moment involving special people. . . and don't worry, they made special balloons. At the rate of paint drying. Okay, little hiccup, but I can recover.

I am now on my way with a car FILLED with balloons (I'm serious, I can't see out the backseat) to meet Stuart and Sawyer for birthday brunch before going to the party.

Sawyer declares on the way to breakfast that he will only be eating cake today. Stuart and I retort that if he wants cake he will be eating breakfast today.

. . .Something is wrong with Sawyer. We get served delicious French toast and Sawyer just sits there (and I mean, he curls himself into a ball and moans, whines, and yawns). Stuart and I roll our eyes, assuming this is some sort of stand-off for cake.

Soon Sawyer is saying his tummy hurts.

Try as we might, we cannot get Sawyer to eat anything. 45 minutes later, we decide that he may have a stomach ache from all the junk food he ate yesterday at the Bees Game. Sawyer's crying in the backseat is further supporting that conclusion.

Stuart runs in the store to grab kids-whatever-make-Sawyer's-stomach-better-so-he-can-have-a-fun birthday-party-medicine and I put Sawyer on my lap while we wait.

"I'm sorry you don't feel good, Buddy."

Sigh.

More Sigh.

Now Heavy Breathing.

"That's weird," I think. "Maybe he's just.. . . "

We are now standing outside the car. Sawyer's popcorn from yesterday now lies on the ground in front of us. And on my pants. . .and shirt. . .and my seat in the car.

Stuart comes out of the store to see his fiancee covered in vomit and his son crying because this has just scared him to death. Stuart cleans off what he can using some clothes found in the car and changes Sawyer into new clothes. I am not so lucky.

Sawyer seems to feel better now and now we are off to the party, after Stuart realizes he has left his debit card at the restaurant, which we decide to get it later, which means we will be paying with the debit card that is in the car, mine.

We are late. Can you blame us? And party-people are standing outside with gifts and smiles (and probably secret laughter after they see me). I stand as far away from the information desk as possible with still being in proximity to it so the perky girl at the counter can hear me speak. . because honestly, I am starting to ripened at a dangerous level.

I quickly grab the wrist-bands for the party, fling them at Betty and walk as fast as I can (Damn heels!) to the closest retail clothes store. Walking in, I bark orders at the closest anorexic salesclerk to get me a pair of jeans in my size (yeah, right, like I'd tell you what size I am) and find the least expensive shirt in my size. When I get to the register I REEK! The salesclerk is nice though.

"My four-year-old threw up on me." I say.

"Oh." Click. Instant understanding. And probably more inside laughter.

I change in the dressing room into vomit-free clothes, and now I am running back to my car, where the "special" balloons await and throw my clothes in the trunk.

Special Balloons - $12.00

Uneaten Breakfast - $6.00

New Replacement Outfit - $70.00

Employees at the Gateway getting the laugh of their lives - Priceless

When I arrive at the party, it seems to be going well now. . .until Sawyer, the saddest birthday boy I've ever seen loses his steam again and it's determined that he has a bug, not just a bad eating habit. The remainder of the party is spent with Sawyer being passed from lap to lap in between more rapid trips to the bathroom (thank goodness it's across the hall). He lack-lusterly opens his gifts and barely has the energy to blow out his cheery candle.

Sawyer is the first to leave his party and my parents and I are the last as we pack up his presents, I cut my finger badly on one of them, and cry myself back to the condo, where our birthday boy is now comfortably resting in bed.

Later, Sawyer wakes up feeling a little better. He plays with his balloons and new toys, but declines any birthday cake, the only thing he had wanted to eat all day.

We end the day with Hungry, Hungry Hippos, new books, and Stuart and I passed out on the couch (But not before we eat the rest of the Kettle Corn from yesterday and two huge pieces of Sawyer's birthday cake) with stomach aches.

Can I have a do-over?