Sometimes it's hard to be me: you're laughing with me, not at me

I'm gonna come right out and say it, in case you didn't know:  

sometimes it's hard to be me. 

Sometimes I BELIEVE that I have super powers and I do a bit too much. 

Exhibit A:  I slept a ton a few weeks ago, waking up Sunday morning feeling rested. Later in the day, that rested feeling turned into a need for more rest. I was confused, but never one to deny myself a nap - I napped. When I woke up, I wondered if a large truck had driven over my head. That was Memorial Day. 

On Tuesday, I felt well enough to load the 3 toddlers and one 10 month old in my care into the Great White along with my faithful companion, Mini, and head to the city. She and I took my little tribe to the Shedd Aquarium. So fun. 

What was I thinking? I asked myself out loud. It took longer to load people in the car than anticipated. This is not new. It's life with littles. Duh. What happened to my brain? As much as I like to think of Mini as a mini-me, I have to tell her everything to do, to load, who to change, where to buckle. Sharing a brain would be so much easier and time saving.

Three tots and Mini holding baby
- checking out penguin.

Then, there was traffic. Cars drove up to the front of the line and wanted to merge as if they didn't realize that their lane was ending  - I turned to Mini and said: THIS IS WHEN I NEED A SIREN ON MY VAN. I didn't let anyone sneak in front of me. I was in the GO-AHEAD,-HIT-THE-BIG-WHITE.-ME-NO-CARES frame of mind. 

As we passed the exit for the zoo, I looked at Mini and I tried to 'splain myself. "I guess I was thinking the Shedd wasn't much farther than the zoo. What's wrong with me?" Never mind what Mini's answer was. She still thinks I'm amazing. Of course. 

Our tickets had an arrival window. As we sat in traffic and fretted about whether to bypass the parking garage in hopes of scoring closer street parking because of how late we were . . . that arrival window CLOSED. Mini and I agreed:  NO ONE COULD TURN US AWAY. RIGHT? LOOK AT US. THE EFFORT WE'D GONE TO WOULD BE CLEAR TO STAFF. 

We hoped. 

We did NOT sing Baby Shark on this visit.
I ban that song from my home.

At last, the Shedd was in sight. I chanced it, with parking that is. I drove down the road away from the parking garage that would add another 15 minutes to our walk to the Shedd. We'd score parking, RIGHT? 

Wrong.

Half of the street along the lakefront between the Shedd and the Planetarium was blocked off. They were filming something.

I wanted to roll my window down and shout:  FILM THIS. CRAZY LADY IN THE RUSTY WHITE VAN PUSHING THE ENVELOPE -THIS IS WHERE THE ACTION IS TODAY, FRIENDS. 

Instead I asked the parking attendant if I could turn my big ass van around in the parking lot at the end of the road, that lot was where I'd park if all else failed, and fail it did. The lot was blocked off though for the filming people. He let me drive through the lot . . . on two wheels, because I had to high-tail it back to the Shedd and do the faraway parking garage . . . while the clock was TICKING. 

Mini and I came up with a back up plan, if the Shedd was strict about their ding-dang arrival window. We'd walk along the lake and look at boats for a bit and the tall buildings. We both agreed that'd be lame. It'd be kinda "LOOK KIDS, BIG BEN"-ish. But, two year olds can be easily impressed.

I pulled up to the sidewalk in front of the Shedd. *I have a history on this sidewalk. Note to self:  share that story soon.  

Me:  OK, WHAT IF I LEAVE YOU HERE WITH THE KIDS AND THEN I PARK OVER THERE. I CAN RUN BACK. THAT'LL BE FASTER.

Mini:  OK, MAYBE I'LL TRY TO ENTER? I'LL TELL THEM YOU'RE COMING.

Me:  UM, SHIT. HERE'S MY PHONE. WITH THE TICKETS PULLED UP. BUT THEN YOU CAN'T CALL ME IF THERE'S A PROBLEM.

Mini:  HERE, TAKE MY PHONE. (one of us had a working brain. Helpful).

Low and behold, there was an even pricier outdoor lot that was a stone's throw away from where I left her. I didn't know about this lot. So much easier than the stadium's $25 parking garage with elevators and freaky low ceilings that make it scary to drive a big ass van in. I was happy to park in this $30 lot. Hell, I would've given them $50. 

(I've uploaded a 14 sec video below so you can see what it feels like to drive the white van in a parking garage. Claustrophobic much?)

Well, I almost couldn't give them ANY dollars. The sun's glare, plus me rushing, I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to work the 'insert credit card here' machine. There was a button way too low for a person driving a kick ass rusty van to see initially. 

No, the cars behind me were NOT upset that I'd woken up depleted of brain cells. Thanks for asking. 

I sprinted to the entrance of the museum. Something in my pocket started screaming, like Halloween screams and I realized Mini was calling me. Note to self:  ask her why she has a screaming for a ring tone.

Mini: We're in. Everything's fine. The lady was nice. She said for you to just come to the door and tell her your name and she'll let you in. All good. 

I bypassed all the people in line, walked in the door. Mini waved at me from over to the side. I announced my name to the employee woman at the door. 

"ERNIE SHENANIGAN, I'M HERE." 

I looked towards Mini and took a few steps. 

Mini:  YEAH, THAT WASN'T THE SAME LADY. 

Me:  OH, UM  . . . 

No swear words were uttered in the making of this adventure.
We had an impromptu lunch by the water. Shedd is on the left.

I turned back but the woman didn't seem to mind that I'd missed my entrance window by over 15 minutes, flashed her my 'credentials' verbally, and then just marched in like I owned the place.

Oh, my sleepy day on Memorial Day? A relentless sinus infection took over me that week. Somehow Tuesday, our Shedd day, was the only day for about 10 that I ended up headache-less. When you read this, I'll be at Tank's orientation with him. Very grateful that I got antibiotics and am feeling MUCH better before we board our plane.