The Very, Very Wicked Day

I am sitting here before my computer, numb. The soft air of a fan is rushing by my face. I am now mostly sane, in my pajamas, safe, cool and everything is blissfully quiet in the house. 

It wasn't always this way.

The very wicked day started in a not-too-unusual way. I switched a paint job to start a day later so that I could help my daughter-in-law with our almost 2-year-old grandbaby, Madelyn Rose. Maddie is my namesake, though after today she might want to change her name. Maddie had a terrible reaction to something from a handful of trailmix on July 4th at the fireworks in Douglasville. Anaphylactic shock, they called it. She broke out in hives, then more hives, then swelled up like a botoxed balloon. Thank God, my son Daniel had the good sense to get her right to the hospital, where they administered an epi pen and emergency measures. Everybody's lives will change now with how and what we do with Maddie. Today was a follow-up with her regular doctor. So we trawled our way to Kennesaw in the blistering heat. Poor baby had to have more blood drawn, but she was a trooper, showing everyone her new booboo and proudly brandishing about 20 princess stickers.

Suddenly, my daughter-in-law, Jessica, gets a text from my son....that he was at the hospital with an abscessed tooth. He was in horrible pain with a toothache and wound up there before he could make his way to the dentist. Before we could get to him, he drove himself, unwisely, to the dentist...so we detoured our trip to collect him, drugged and bloody, from the dental office. With a fistful of prescriptions to be filled, Ma and Pa were dispatched to the drugstore while I took Maddie back to their house in my van to get a much-needed nap. So a thirty-minute drive later, my bladder is about to explode. I had been dismissing hints from it all afternoon, trying to save time.

I shouldn't have done that.

It messed up all my sense of logic. Not that I actually have any of that. Maddie and I pulled into their driveway. My normal modus operandi is to push the button to open the sliding door of my van, before I turn off the car. But did I do that? No. I was conflicted. My bladder was in pain and I was afraid to even pick up the baby. In my muddled brain I thought I could run quickly to the bathroom before I took her out of the car seat. So I ran. The car door neatly slammed behind me (I told you this was an evil day) and I heard the door lock. I am not kidding. I do not know why it did that, but it did, locking my keys in the car. And the baby in the car.

Now I am standing in the driveway, wailing to our oldest son, Jon, on the phone about what I've just done. He tries to calm me down and tells me he will call my husband to bring the other key. Which meant, approximately another thirty minutes of hell. To add insult to injury, my dog (who was in their backyard) realizes that I am there and starts yowling like a coyote. Meanwhile, there are forces in the universe which inevitably kick in, no matter what I do. Gravity. Time. Stress. Bladder torsion. Yes, it is true. I have now been entered into the Bad Yaya Hall of Fame. Locked the baby in the car and then peed on myself.

God is real. I know this because He providentially caused me to put a huge, rude wad of gum in my mouth before I did the evil deed. So as I'm waiting for Papa Bear to get there, I also get the divinely inspired idea to blow bubbles with it for Maddie while we wait. She is laughing behind the glass, trying to duplicate what I am doing on the other side. Between 24 verses of Old McDonald, with me calling up every animal sound known to man, Maddie keeps begging me to blow more bubbles. I know that there is a statute of limitations on the elasticity of gum, so I'm interspersing the bubbles with more verses. Occasionally my emotions get the best of me and I have to turn my back to her and sob my heart out for a few seconds. Have you ever tried to pray, really hard, while you are blowing bubbles? Maddie seemed to think it was all very funny, praise God, and Papa Bear's mad driving skills got him there quicker than I want to think about. We got that baby outa there lickety-split. Two cups of juice, a bowl of applesauce and a change of clothes later, she's snoozing like a kitten in her crib.

Yaya gets home, Papa Bear tucks her in and the world is right for the time being. But now I've got this twitch in my left eye which I suspect might not ever leave.