Do you ever have a day that the universe is telling you that?
It was one of those days for me yesterday.
I had a nice outfit on, complete with slingback heels and fancy trousers. However, as I was walking into the school, my right shoe kept slipping off. I rushed to the bathroom and took off my nylons. No more slipping. Wardrobe crisis averted.
And then I had to meet with a boss that I'm not particularly fond of. She's a tiny little woman who wears a lot of grey. Her angular features look unfriendly and her hair is tightly pulled into a pony tail. And she spells my name incorrectly. Consistently. For those of you who have never met an Erin or an Aaron, E-r-i-n is for girls and A-a-r-o-n is for boys. It's been that way forever. It's not a complicated concept. Just sayin'.
At any rate, the meeting was fine, but not wonderful.
And then. I fell.
I'm not talking about one of those Trip And Catch Yourself Falls. I'm talking about a Full-On Flying Across the Pavement Fall. I was on my way to the car. As I was walking, my Pain in the Ass Slingbacks got caught in the cuff of my fancy trousers. It was over; there was no chance to catch myself. I had a coke in my right hand, car keys in my left, and change in my pocket - it all went flying (just a little bit further than me). And it was caught on the security cameras. I'll never live that one down.
And then on the way to my doctor appointment, which I was really looking forward to because I was going to discuss getting to the bottom of my infertility, I realized that not only had I left my military ID at the house, but I had the one car that wasn't registered on post. At this point I about lost it.
I was a hot mess.
Luckily, Scout remembered my appointment and realized the same problem; he was on his way home as I arrived there to call him. While I was ten minutes late to my appointment, I was still seen. And I heart my doctor.
He made me feel hopeful about getting pregnant - although I think hope is sometimes a curse. But for now, I'm feeling positive about the plans we've put into place. I might blog about it later, or not. I haven't really decided yet.
And on a totally unrelated note, here's Tuck helping me make cookies. If ever I'm in the kitchen not involving him, he'll pat me on the butt and say, "Mama, mama, mama, mama..." until I find a place for him on the counter. And then he'll lick the sugar and butter off the beaters and be perfectly content just hanging out with me: