Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Today was the holiday party at Tom's office. I don't know why work-sponsored Christmas parties seem to have it out for me (see "festive tights" link a couple of posts down), but today was, despite my very best intentions, not without its own bizarre ordeal.
I've learned, in the nearly two years since I've become a parent, that I need to allow myself a fair bit of extra time to get ready to go anywhere, if I've got any hope of making it to a given destination on time. Frequently, even though I know better, I wait a little too long to start getting myself and the boy ready, and we end up late.
This was not the case today. I had the morning planned, with extra chunks of time budgeted for the usual assortment of unforseen events (breakfast wars, last-minute diaper changes, wardrobe malfunctions, etc.), and I was very astutely sticking to my schedule. I had Soren fed, his picture-of-the-day taken, the dishes and laundry started, and both of us showered with more than and hour left to get dressed and out the door. I put on my newly-purchased "nice" clothes and outfitted the boy in the insanely cute dress clothes he got from his great-grandparents, gathered snacks and other necessities to replenish the diaper bag, and was ready to hit the road with time to spare. And then it happened.
I told Soren it was time to go. Now, the last 2 days, we've taken the stroller with us for our erranding, so I can't blame him too much for thinking that was going to be the case again today. He climbed on up and sat in the stroller, waiting, while I waited for him by the open front door, my arms full of stuff. When I didn't come get him, he got out and started pushing the stroller across the living room toward me. I shut the door and went to retrieve him, and he had one of his "toddler moments," very upset about being told we were leaving the stroller behind, adamantly declaring, "Go-go!" while trying to hang on to the side or grab the wheels. I finally resorted to picking him up and stuffing him under one arm while still trying to hold all our gear with the other arm and wrestling the apartment door open. Cue another bout of angry toddler flailing, and thwap...
He knocked my keys out of my hand as the door was closing.
And for those who are not aware, our apartment door locks automatically. We were locked out, with the car keys stuck inside.
So we trudged down to the front office (which is in a different building) in hopes of retrieving the spare key...which was apparently checked out by the previous tenant in 2006 and never returned. Sweet! So Patrol Services had to be called to escort us back to the apartment, and I had to pay a $25 "lock-out fee" to be let inside. Patrol Services, naturally, took their sweet time with all of this, so by the time we got back in the apartment, and I retrieved my keys from the floor, and I wrote out a check for the lock-out fee, and the Patrol Services lady wrote out a receipt for me, and we got down to the car...almost 45 minutes had elapsed. We were pulling out of the driveway at approximately the time we should have been arriving at Tom's work.
Oh, but the fun didn't end there! We arrived at the metro station to find the parking lot closed and full. So we had to drive to a different station, which has a giant parking structure but where it takes quite a bit longer to get from one's car to the train platform. And then! We finally got to Tom's place of business, only to find an insanely long line at security. By the time we got through and actually entered the building, we were a full hour late.
Fortunately, the lunch was running for 2 hours, so we still were able to meet Tom's workmates and show off the boy (who was, once we left the apartment the first time, in a perfectly cheerful mood with almost no further traces of toddleritis). So in the end, it all worked out all right. Certainly not ideal, and certainly not the way I'd hoped and planned, but well enough.
This picture's not the greatest, but his outfit is. Have you ever seen anything cuter?
Soren was a good boy on the way home, even though it was again well past his usual napping hour. He fell asleep in the car on the drive home from the train station, waking up the moment we arrived back at the apartment complex, never to fall asleep again this afternoon, clocking a grand total of 15 minutes of nappage. But he was still relatively pleasant this evening. And Tom kindly made dinner and let me go float in the pool for a bit again, soothing my hips, which are now protesting mightily after 2 days of some rather significant walking around. All's well that ends well, I suppose.