All in a Friday Night

I must have a Fiasco Beacon.

Everything I'm involved in lately quickly turns in to a huge mess. You might want to keep some distance.

I had a lovely (am I so old that I'm saying lovely?) time with my friend Stacey tonight as she so sweetly worked her magic on my hair. Girl Talk. That's why we go to the salon: to hide from the husband and children and cell phone and indulge in beautiful, wonderful, NECESSARY Girl Talk. (thanks, Stacey)

Fortunately, the fiasco came afterward. And tonight it was named Isaac.

(do you want the condensed version?)

It's dark, kids need to be picked up from Sandy's, traffic heavy, car needs gas, kids didn't eat the McDonald's I'd bought them before my appointment, now they're starving, Taco Bell drive-thru, construction on Redwood Rd.

Still not to the fiasco.

Yet.

All of a sudden, in the dark, desert night, Isaac discovers something all over the back of his hand. Whatever, my mind is too busy processing what I need to do at home.

Earlier in the afternoon, Mr. Isaac helped himself to some assorted chocolates (I'll come back to that another time) in the back of David's car. At some point he apparently sat on one.

All. Over. The. Place.

I hope 409 isn't bad for car leather.

Then. Yes then. Then he's still hungry. To top off his 9-year-old belly, he decided on Honey Buches of Oats, but first had to spill half (HALF) of the bag across the dining room floor.

I just stood there. Didn't react, knew he would react enough for both of his parents witnessing the 2nd fiasco. As he started to melt down I dry-ly said "Get the vacuum."

David and him worked together to reign in all the oats and flakes and whatever honey the vacuum could handle.

Afterward our smart, little fiasco-maker said "I'm going to look back on this some day and laugh".

Now, as I reflect on the night, I realize that some of you with 3 or 4, or even more kids are saying, 'Jess, that's not a fiasco. That's just Friday night.'