On Thursday I had my debit card refused at Costco as I tried to check out with a $350 cart full of stuff, much of which was refrigerated or frozen food for the Prenuptial BBQ. Apparently my card has a $300 daily limit. And no, I didn't have my checkbook on me. I had to go to the customer service desk with my full cart and my tired and hungry three year old to call Chase and get my limit raised. They were very helpful, but it still took me 30 minutes to get the hell out of Dodge.
I should mention also that I had to stop on the way to Costco because Z had to "go potty right now." We were on North Avenue, in a questionable neighborhood. I passed hair braiding salon after liquor store before finally finding a Dunkin Donuts with a clean restroom where I had the pleasure of watching my daughter sit on the toilet for 20 minutes. Talk about time standing still. There is nothing so tedious as watching your child take her sweet time on a public crapper.
But at least that bathroom was tidy. Today I got to spend 20 minutes watching her poop in the public restroom at Taylor Park, where we attended a birthday party this morning (oh my God this day's been so long it already feels like a lifetime ago). Now this bathroom was nasty. I'm talking sewagey water on the floor, no toilet seat, spiders hanging from the ceiling, no soap or paper towels nasty. Yet my daughter's perfectly happy to sit on the TP I've artfully arranged on the prison-style potty, swing her legs and ask me why did that dead spider hanging from a thread next to her nest die?
She finally shit and got off the pot, only to throw up five minutes into her hot dog lunch.
Ah, motherhood.
