I think yesterday pretty much summed up my life.

I started with the best intentions, telling myself I would not lose my cool with kids who drag, nearly miss the bus or come out of their rooms without socks when that was the one thing (okay, two things) they were told to put on fifteen times and instead, they return with a remote control for a toy they may or may not still own and a puzzling look on their faces.

I made myself a cup of tea but let the bag steep for oh, let’s say an hour. I had my first big decision of the day. Do I dump the sludge, start over and wait five minutes for a proper cup? Or do I chug the beast, suck it up and get on with my day. I drank it, as it was, swamp water so strong it stained the inside of my “impossible to stain” favourite mug and likely my kidneys. Still, this mediocre catastrophe isn’t quite as severe as me drinking a cup of tea from Tim Horton’s the day before and with each sip wondering if there were cleaning chemicals leftover in the pot from the night before, swimming in my tea. You’ll notice I said, “with each sip.” That’s right, I drank it. When you don’t have a plan B…..

I went to the government office to renew my five year olds passport and brought along my 22 month old for entertainment. Wait, I had no other choice. She sat on a chair while I stood in front of Agent number eight who pointed out a couple of problems with my forms. The first was that I did not include her height on the form. I realized after he pointed it out, I had left the height box blank because it was on my list of, “things to do when I have a sedated child and a long tape measure” but that moment never happened. I confidently wrote 3 feet as though I had her exact height committed to memory as any Mom worth her salt would.

The second discrepancy, but before he could point it out, I noticed Chloe had removed her Elmo running shoes AND socks and was roaming around the cement floored office with who knows what kind of communicable diseases being brushed along as the day progressed.

Agent: This form you filled out is for a child living abroad.

Okay, what are my options? Will it get me out of here faster if I just pretend she lives abroad and sign within the very small box, which if my hand quivers at the thought of Shoeless Joe contracting athlete’s foot while hopscotching her way around waiting area B, I’ll have rendered the entire document null and void? Or do I explain she does not live abroad as the home address matching my home address would indicate and bend over to take my thirty paddles.

I made the drive home but I might still have been high from the “magic” tea I had consumed the day before and was no match for Chloe who held up a pink, plastic tube and repeated the following until I nearly passed out;

Chloe: Hanna drock it.

Me: Hanna drock it?
Chloe: No. Hanna drock it.

Me: Hanna drock it?

Chloe: No. Hanna. Drock. It.

Me: Hanna. Drock. It?

Chloe: NO! Hanna DROCK it.

Okay, let’s go at this from another angle.

Me: Show me what Hanna drocked.

Chloe staring at me coldly: Hanna drock it.

Me, mumbling as much as humanly possible: Hnnnna-drck-it?

Chloe: Yeah.

Me: Yes, she did. Can you show me?

She looked at me with angry eyebrows and swatted me with the tube.