God Hates Gymboree

Or maybe just me. But maybe we'll give it one more week to be sure.

We did indeed make it to Gymboree yesterday, and the whole getting-there-and-back-again only cost me about four hours.

FOUR HOURS. And I swear to God, that doesn't include a single minute it can be blamed on my signature brand of must-get-there-several-years-early crazy.

THINGS WE CAN AND DAMNED WELL WILL BLAME IT ON:

• No morning nap.
• Nooooooo morning nap.
• Why nap, when grabbing Mama's coffee cup and shaking it like a maraca is so much fun?
• Cold, stale coffee on carpet, couch, wall.
• Also on baby's outfit and head.
• Mad dash for paper towels that resulted in me knocking a half-full baby bottle (I know. But I was DESPERATE for that nap.) onto tile floor.
• Did I mention it was a glass baby bottle? Because of course it was.
• Walking.
• Sidewalks.
• Other damn people.
• Broken elevators at Metro stations.
• Construction.
• Closed sidewalks.
• Republicans.
• El Nino.
• Mel Gibson.
• Gymbo, that fucking clown, who I am considering buying just to have it around the house to randomly kick the shit out of.

And of course, while the one redeeming aspect of last week's experience was that Noah had a great time, this week he howled in terror and clutched my legs the entire time.

*pinches nose, sighs loudly, reaches for corkscrew and wine pint glass*

But! There were more moms this week, and Ms. Spanish For Toddlers actually seems very nice and down-to-earth, and frankly just desperate for reasons to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE.

So I guess she IS a little crazy, as I plan on never leaving the house again.

Now I must go, for I'm not sure if you noticed, but I've got a birthday party to plan. OH MY GOD.