Sunday, February 13, 2011

...and this is why I don't go anywhere.

I tried to meet The Pioneer Woman yesterday.  She was in Denver at a book signing.

I should have known what kind of day it was going to be when I tried to get out of bed and my bursitis was raging.  What the hell?  Am I Betty White?  I'm supposed to be in my sexual prime but my hip feels like I bought it at the rigor mortis store.

It only took 4 hours to get myself ready, the kids fed and cleaned and the bag packed.  I think we set a new record for leaving the house.

Then, as I had both of my precious treasures packed up in my truck and pulled onto the interstate for the hour long drive, the screaming started.  First it was happy screaming and spitting. Then it was angry screaming. And screaming.  And screaming.  And screaming.......

It lasted for 42 minutes, or until Thing 1 passed out and stopped poking Thing 2. But not before my forehead became permanently creased and my nerves were so raw that they were bleeding.  It was awesome. 

Of course, as I was in stop and go traffic for the last few miles of the trip, driving in first gear in the center lane of five lanes on I-25, Thing 1 woke up crying that he needed to use the potty.   So did mommy honey, so did mommy.

I pulled up to my friend's house as I was contemplating Valium, other numbing pharmaceuticals and shock therapy the convent purchasing earplugs and inventing a wine box that mounts to your dashboard.

When I entered her house we noticed that we were dressed the same.  Yellow long sleeved tee, dark skinny jeans and brown boots.  We both laughed.  We have been childhood friends and then were college roommates.  In college, we would meet in the hallway after spending an hour to primp and dress to "go out" where we would discover that we had put together the same outfit.  I would say that this happened 80% of the time.  Apparently, we are still sharing a fashion brain wave and {obviously} both of us have stellar taste.  So off went in our matching ensembles to have a quick lunch and meet The Pioneer Woman at her book signing.  We left Thing 1 with her husband and their three year old to play trains and watch Disney movies.  We toted precious little Thing 2 with us.  It was about 1:00.

Lunch was wonderful, except for the 467 times I had to visit the restroom to wash off the miscellaneous items that Thing 2 gleefully threw onto the floor.  That baby is fast and sneaky.  I see a profitable future for him as a pick pocket, especially when he disarms you with giant blue eyes, squeezy cheeks and the best smile ever.

We headed over to the Tattered Cover and arrived at 2:15.  The signing had started at 2:00. I, being the ever savvy and prepared shopper, bought a couple of PW's books at full retail price and we headed upstairs to see her.  When the lady handed us our numbers (399 and 400) and told us that the room was at maximum capacity, so we couldn't see her but we could hear her, I tried not to feel disheartened.  I knew it would be busy.  Everyone loves The Pioneer Woman and I knew we were going to be a little late.  As my friend and I were visiting with some people nearby, we learned that fans were lined up outside the store before it opened.  They told us that the line for tickets didn't even start until 1:00.  They had gotten there at 1:15 and they were number 280.  Great.

My friend and I mused how we both thought that book signings were about small quaint gatherings of about 50 people.  I told her that if I ever write a book, that is how my signing will be, and I will know (and probably be related to) all 50 people.

We waited two hours in the book store with Thing 2, who was supposed to be napping, but with all those people there to see him there would be NO NAPPING. I did see The Pioneer Woman from my peripheral vision while I was walking back to the restrooms.  I also saw her beautiful daughters and her sister in law Missy.  We smiled at one another.  They seemed lovely. I should have had someone take my picture with them, but I didn't want to annoy anyone. My friend called her husband at 4:15 and I saw her grimace into the phone, while in the background they were only calling numbers up to 180 on the loud speaker.... we needed to go.  Husband had other things to do besides play with a couple of three-year old boys.  *shocking*  I did some estimating in my head and figured it would be close to 6 pm before I could meet The Pioneer Woman.  I had left my house at 11:20 and neither Thing had napped.  Then I learned that Thing 1 didn't eat.  He always eats.  No food, no naps, no schedule. I needed to treat these children like a time sensitive bomb, because that is exactly what they were.

As we headed back to her house to relieve her husband, it was dawning on me that I would probably not get to go back to the book signing.  It was going to be dark soon and I really don't see well at night, not to mention I needed to get the kids home.  When I told Thing 1 that we were going, the response that I got was what I expected; the no food and no nap body racking sobs, complete with wailing "I want to stay heeeerrrreeee!"  At that point, it became very clear that I would definitely not be heading back to the book store to wait another hour and a half with two sleep deprived "precious treasures".  All that I would have been able to say to the Pioneer Woman at that time would be some gibberish like "Fleener neener neener.  Pickles.", while crossing my eyes and drooling on my sweater.

I will not lie, the feelings of disappointment were strong as I loaded up both children and ventured back onto the interstate, where I immediately merged into more stop and go traffic. Yay. I love driving in Denver, especially in first and second gear. Good thing I drive a stick shift, because that makes that kind of traffic even better.  I may or may not have cried a little as I followed a line of people on the hour drive home who thought that 60 mph was close enough to the speed limit of 75 mph, and was certainly a fine speed to drive in the passing lane.  Slow drivers are awesome.

When I entered the house, both children were overstimulated, hungry, groggy, incoherent, sobbing rag dolls. I wasn't in much better shape. I was worn out from having both kids solo for the 6th day in a row (Brock works a second job on weekends), fried from the screaming, tired from the rushing and immensely unfulfilled that I didn't get to do yet another thing that was "for me".  Selfish stupid me, thinking I could do something that didn't have the word laundry in it.

So that's it.  Yet again, I failed. I will no longer leave the cave, unless it is to get laundry detergent, diapers or formula.  Because that is my life, which basically has no "me" in it at all.  *sniff sniff* I hope it changes at some point, because I am no where close to being a saint and I need a little breathing room sometimes, even if it is sitting for 4 hours in a bookstore to meet someone for 30 seconds who happens to inspire me.  I am grateful that I got to put on a real outfit (one not made out of pajama pants and a sweater) and some make-up to have lunch with my friend though.  We had wine, too. So there's that.

Hork Hork Hork. Verbal vomit is fun. The End. 

I'll get back to funny as soon as I am done with my pity party. Meh.  Send chocolate.

My unsigned copy. 


  1. Ah girl..I"m sorry! THat sucks. I never get to go anywhere either. Friday, my girlfriend picked up her kiddo and said she was going out. I was so jealous! Hubby told me I was fine and didn't need girlfriends...cause I blogged everyday. :( I would love to have a day w/a female adult, but I am sorry your plans were foiled.

  2. Sorry :( I love TPW. I have her book too. And if it makes you feel any better, mine is also unsigned.

    I am almost 100% certain you do not feel any better. is okay to have a pity party every once in awhile!

  3. Thanks ladies! I have the best readers ever. hugs

  4. Sounds like me trying to 'have fun'. Finding myself exhausted and miserable at the end of it all, and wondering why I ever bothered to leave my house in the first place.
    Babies just take it all to the next level, although I have heard from a reliable source that it gets better. She's even spent a whole week away from the brood on multiple occasions!
    Maybe you can submit your story to the Pioneer Woman's blog in hopes of getting a signed sympathy copy...