What a Day


I woke up ready to take on the world.

I even straightened my hair, and I can’t even tell you the last time I did that.

Despite a bit of a rough solo week (thanks, vog, for all the sickness. These are memories I will always cherish), I had the day conquered in my mind, and my husband would be back on the island,and all would be perfect.


The world was ready to take me on.

I dropped the big kids off at their theatre class, and Sweet M insisted on a playground. I had two full hours of him and Bean, so playground it was.

I made a wrong turn, and while trying to get back to the original playground I’d programmed into my GPS, Sweet M spotted another one. It was in a slightly more seedy area than I really wanted to be, but I set my reservations aside and adhered to his desires.

Bean had a diaper blowout and I had no extra clothes with me, so being the classy lady I am, I wiped off the leg of her romper with some baby wipes and let her continue rocking out in it.

Not even ten minutes of us being there, Sweet M declared he was hungry and thirsty and wanted to leave to get food. We have several friends with birthdays this month so I decided Barnes and Noble would be a great place to visit – M could have a soft pretzel, I could grab coffee and gifts.

I loaded up the babies in the all ready hot van. Sweet M is rarely super amiable to getting into his car seat, but he was really wanting his tummy full.

I turned the ignition key and…click.


Click, click. Click.

Dead battery.

My heart sank down into my knees.

I called my brother first, but he was headed off to a water park for the day. Next I called a friend. At this point both babies were screaming, strapped in their seats. I had 1.5 hours before I needed to pick up my big kids, but oh my gosh! What if I couldn’t get there!?

After chatting for a few minutes with my friend K, I hung up and gave my insurance’s roadside assistance a call. They were champs and promised to send someone over to jump start my van.


My phone vibrated and the name of the company and their number was sent to me. Also that it’d be approximately 90 minutes before they would be there.

That was thirty minutes after I needed to pick my big kids up.

I called K back, and asked if she could please come pick my kids up. She was on the other side of the island, family visiting in town, but didn’t skip a beat.

At this point I had pulled both sweaty babies back out of the car. Sweet M was losing his ever loving mind because he was so hungry and thirsty.

I ransacked my van looking for nourishment (you’d have thought he hadn’t eaten an egg, half an avocado and cheese an hour prior). Fortunately my big kids have impeccable reliability for never fully unloading the trunk when asked, so there was a full tin of caramel and cheddar popcorn I’d bought at Target on whim Thursday because it wase clearanced out for $3.



Except that just made him thirstier.

I typically always carry a case of water in the trunk, but we’d just finished it that week and I hadn’t yet been to Costco to replace it.




At this point I’m offering to like squirt milk into his mouth like a game because he’s long since self weaned, and he’s having none of it. Snot is running down his face, his neck is caked in it. He’s blubbering like the 2 year old he is.

By now three different gentleman have stopped by, unphased by the hairy situation I am in, asking if I have any money to lend them.

I have a baby on my hip literally wearing shit covered clothes, a toddler laying on the curb losing his cookies because he’s dehydrated and hasn’t had a drop of water in a solid hour, sweat is visibly rolling down my face and I stink like the high heaves because this hippy deodorant stuff does nothing for me on the equator (or wherever Hawaii is), and they seriously want to know if I can lend them money?

Nope. No, I can’t. Would I if could? Yes, yes I would.

But here’s another fun fact I’m trying not to panic about.

I left my purse at home!

You guys.

This day is just going…

“I have popcorn,” I offer one gentleman sheepishly.

He waves me away.

At this point I haven’t encountered any humans in automobiles, but as if sent to me by the Gods, another gentleman pulls in front of me and parks.

I muster all be courage I have in me (have I ever mentioned I have some pretty deep social anxiety? Like speaking to strangers is up there on my list with having a lobotomy; just nope.) and approach the gentleman. I ask him if he happens to have any jumper cables.

He looks at me a bit perplexed and I ask him again.

He shakes his and tells me someone is coming to pick him up and he’ll ask them (in broken English, so mad props for replying, dude).

I ask his friend who arrives two minutes later, but no.

At this point I seriously want to cry. But Sweet M is finally calming down, so I lead him back to the playground.

Soon after this K does a mini drive by and gives me her kids’ water bottles and some bugles to tide Sweet M over as she heads to grab my big kids.

Another friend is headed our way, so I’m googling how to jump a car in case she makes it before the tow truck.

Another car suddenly parks. I pick up Bean who is eating leaves and now… sticky? I approach the man who, I’m not going to lie, had a hell of a time parallel parking his little Prius.

I ask him if he has jumper cables, and he kindly tells me no, but he couldn’t jump my van anyway with super chic, eco-friendly Prius anyway.

Well, thanks, anyway. My gas-guzzling van is too cool for you anyway.

Also. During this time there are not bathrooms nearby. I’m on my period. It’s getting ridiculous. And for the first time since I was like thirteen I leak through my pants! Real life, y’all. Womanhood is some pretty glamorous shit.

At that point my big kids arrive, armed with McDonald’s, and I’m pretty sure that Sweet M and I have never been so delighted to witness such a feast. We’ve been stranded for two hours at this point. It’s safe to say we are weak from near starvation.

And coffee. There really are miracles.

The tow truck guy arrives about ten minutes after that. Late. Obviously.

He jumps my van in about 2 seconds flat and tells me I need to take it straight to a shop for a new battery.

But at this point I’m over adulting, and I’m not making those sorts of decisions without J because what if it just needs a charge and not a whole battery? How am I supposed to know?

So I pack all my kids up, bid adieu and many thanks to K, and head home where my other friend, H, meets me.

I have J’s car since I had dropped him off at the airport last week, and I put the babies’ car seats in his car. H brings me more coffee. Bigger coffee. Bless her. The gods are trying to make amends. I get it.

I load Sweet M and Bean up, ready for their naps, and head to the airport.



Merging onto the freeway and going .4 miles takes me 20 minutes. No jokes. Hello, Honolulu.

During these 20 minutes my phone randomly turns off five times.


It’s also on 8% battery and I didn’t bring a charger so fingers crossed my older progenies don’t maim or dismember themselves and someone needs to get ahold of me.

Longest drive ever to the airport. J is there. Still good looking.

Cockroach in his trunk as he goes to put his luggage away.

Fucking Hawaii.

Sweet M awakes two minutes before we make it to the auto shop to purchase a new battery (J decides we need a new one simply based on my story). He needs to pee. We aren’t fast enough. Sweet M is distraught because ohmygoshheistwoandtwoyearoldscannotpeeonthemselveswhentheyaregentlemen!

I mean, I’d be grumpy if I peed on myself, too.

But. With it all said and done. I have a new battery in my van. Car seats have been washed, which inspired me to also clean out and vacuum my van. My 8 year old made a super yummy cake. My darling husband is home rocking babies again.

And most importantly: I got two coffees today.

So basically I’m winning.

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