When poop hits the fan

I don't often "snap." But, yesterday I did. Thought I should be committed...here's what happened:

So, Friday I lost my keys. Actually, they vanished. I know exactly where I had them...and they're gone. Anyway, so yesterday I was still looking for my keys - 5 days later- in completely illogical places hoping against all hope that they would turn up in say...my children's lego box (nevermind that I lost my keys at the base or that my boys have not played with their legos in the past week).

In the midst of the key saga, I needed to go to the bank. So, at 9am, I loaded my boys into the car and proceeded to try to start the car with the replacement key my husband had made the previous day. The car would not start. The oil light came on and I decided it better to bike. Not only did I need to go to the bank, I also needed to get Micah some new shoes. So, I attached the kid trailer to my bike, loaded up the boys, and set off. Halfway to the consignment store, I noticed my front tire was splashy. Nevertheless, we made it to the shop. I turned in some of my boys' old stuff and got Micah a pair of new shoes. There was a bicycle repair shop nearby, so I petaled on over there to get my tires re-filled.

On my way to the bank (which, by the way, is uphill) my husband called. Sweaty and already tired I answered next to the very busy street. Amidst the traffic, I heard "go home. the car is fine." I went home. He drove me to the bank. Well, he drove me halfway to the bank. Halfway to the bank I remembered I only had half of the money I needed to deposit. He drove me home. I collected the other check. Then, he drove me to the bank. Post-bank, we ran by the hardware store to pick up a couple of things and then to the library to drop off some books. On the way home, we stopped at a friends' house where Ben was going to do some work.

I got in the drivers seat and the car would not start. Turns out one needs a special key for our car. Knowing my husband was not going to risk his (our last) working key on me, I walked home with the boys. I made lunch. They decided they did not want to eat their lunch. Okay fine. "You don't have to eat your lunch, but this is all you are getting until supper time," I explained. They were fine with this...for about 30 minutes. They soon became hungry and wanted "other food." I stuck to my guns. I continued searching for my keys. Surely they were in the boys' underwear drawer! Of course they were not.

Later in the day, we were all exhausted. The boys, who still had not eaten, were hungry. Micah began to completely ignore anything I said to him. I was angry. I banished the boys to their room and told them not to come out until I called them. I threw a wooden kitchen utensil across my kitchen and it broke against the wall. I went into the garage and started to cry. "I'm a horrible person!" I thought. I went upstairs to apologize to the boys, but told them they still needed to play in their room for a while.

The bike and kids trailor were still in the middle of the garage. Ben would have to park there when he got home. So, still crying, I began to work on cleaning the garage. No sooner had I prepared a space for the bike and trailor, did Ben come home. The garage door opened, I walked the bike and trailor outside and I noticed that not only was my husband home, but he had a friend with him. I was mortified! My face was red, I was still angry and upset, I was wearing a T-shirt and work out shorts, and my hair was a mess. Fantastic! Ben got out of the car and proceeded to tell me the story of how he spent the afternoon (and $60) to get me a new key. Our poor friend...standing there...trying not to be there! He picked up some feathers from the ground (I am still not sure why there were feathers on the ground), handed them to me, and said "Psalm 93." I was too embarassed to thank the poor man! At this point, I just looked at the ground and started taking the trailor off the bike.

After we got the bike trailor off and put everything back into the garage, Ben and his friend left. It was near dinner time. There was nothing to make in our house and I had lost any and all motiviation to cook. I pulled myself together, got dressed in something decent, and took the boys to the base for supper. We sat with Ben's friend.