OK Ladies,
Strike up the band, and warm up the strings - Im about to fill you all in on my day!
Of course, last night I laid down with Sophia, and promptly fell asleep at 9:30 pm- well at least I got a good nights sleep.
Get up early, wolf something down, take the dog out and feed the dog, now time to get Sophia up.
Today we started out the day with getting Sophia up for school and getting her dressed, and getting her breakfast (thank goodness there was ONE waffle left - of course no one warned me we were almost out - note to self - get some waffles tonight). Amy was kind enough to set out Sophias clothes for her (I am a typical male in picking out girls clothes - it all looks fine to me - matching - - whats that?) This consisted of a skirt and long-sleeve shirt.
Then we have to do the hair. Now I would just like to know how many guys out there can do the ponytail thingy? I have mastered the ponytail thingy - with the rubber band whatsit. If I had to do two I would be in trouble, but one, I have mastered. Unfortunately, the child is growing out her bangs, and I have NOT mastered the hair clip thingy. So my child looks a bit lopsided as we get ready to put the raincoat on and wait for the bus.
The bus comes, and as we are heading out, the neighbor lady says to Sophia Good day to wear a skirt young lady (meaning cold and rain) ha ha - her she knows her dad dressed her. Thanks a lot. I walk Sophia to the bus with an umbrella, and the neighbors two boys have to splash all the way to the bus in the street soaking the bottom of my pants.
Now to get the dog to day care, and get to the office - only two hours later than usual. Finally get to the office - ignoring the comments of oh, bankers hours, eh John?.
The usual problems happen at work - that I will not bore you all with.
Leave work, pick up the dog. Do you know what a hot spot is on a dog . . . uh, no. Apparently she has chewed on her one toe exposing flesh. You will have to put some cream on that or soak it in epsom salt - uhhhhhhhh! I call home to ask the MIL to get Sophia ready for dance . . . she will not - she wants daddy to get her ready. Get the dog home, fed, and itch cream on the hot spot.
Sophia does not want to get ready for her Irish dance class. Why gentle reader? Because they are going too fast, and she does not think she is doing well. I promise to talk to Miss Erin, and explain Sophias concerns - I also promise to take her where she wants to go to eat afterwards . . . So I put on the hose and the tights (on Sophia of course) and off we go to dance. I also deal with the hair - not as lopsided the second time around. I am now looking forward to 45 minutes with my iPod.
We get there, and put on the gillies (Irish dancing shoes), and I talk to Miss Erin. Sophia still wont go in. Why? She does not want to stretch - it gives her a headache. I explain this to Miss Erin, get Sophia in there, and finally sit down with my iPod for now 40 minutes of peace.
Except that one of the mothers out there has a two year old that is fascinated with my iPod. How do I explain to mom that I am trying to watch Heroes on my iPod, and that yes, her 2 year old who was looking over my shoulder just saw a man on my screen with his head sawed off at the top? I shade it so she cannot see it, and she finally gets bored and moves away. Down to 30 minutes now.
Well all the moms are blah, blah, blah at an annoying tone, and it is almost impossible to concentrate on my show. The only other dad is trying to take cell phone calls, and they are now laughing and pointing at him and me. Seems they think it is funny he has a pink dance bag, and I have a purple one. ha ha ha They ask if we shop at the same boutique.(they probably play violins in their spare time).
Now mind you . . . I told Amy when this whole dance thing started that I did EIGHT years of baseball and Cub Scouts. I was a coach and everything. I kid you not I could count on ONE hand the games Amy went to in that time. She hates little league, as it made her nervous, and she wanted to strangle the obnoxious parents. I paid my dues and I did NOT want to deal with Dance. I know about as much about dance as Britney Spears knows about quadratic equations. But here I am, at dance, with chatty women who will NOT let me watch my show!
Dance is over - the show isnt. So where does Sophia want to go for dinner? A cheap burger place like my DS would have? Noooooooooooo.... she wants to go to Ruby Tuesdays! OK - Im a sucker, RT it is.
Of course, on the way there my cell rings, and it is a problem at work that a Manager has no idea how to handle. It of course would be hard to handle for someone with a social work degree, but they still call me.
RT was decent food, but Sophia was antsy, and the table was one of those that if you just bump a little tips like a drunken sailor, and stuff goes sliding. Of course this happens many times, and I am thinking of Becka at Red Lobster. When she finishes her food she wants to get up and dance for the patrons to the music that is playing.
Dinner over, and on to the grocery store to get waffles. Of course we have to get cookies too, and the lady at our bakery gives her balloons. I hate balloons. As I am pushing the cart, Sophia is sitting in the basket with the balloon strings, and of course they trial behind ME, and around my head. She is laughing and saying that I look like Mickey Mouse as one balloon goes to each side, wrapping around my head.
Now Sophia wants to get dessert. Does she want an ice cream cone from DQ - noooooooooo.... Mom has trained her well. She wants hot chocolate from Starbucks. So now we go to Starbucks, and I HAVE to get something dont I? I told you all I dont drink coffee much, but I get a Mocha, and now I will probably be able to be up long enough to get caught up!
Get home. Put dog out. Bathe girl. Get her set up with TV so I can DIS for a bit, and I sit down to see I am now 20 pages behind after trying to keep up all day ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
So play your violins ladies while I catch up - tune up for Brahms lullaby.
A Day in the Life . . . I read the news today oh boy . . . .
Meanwhile, Amy is jumping on her select comfort bed, and going to the Mall of America.
I need a cruise . . .
John1