just a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

All that I wanted to do was go the fair and shoot.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

I wanted to slip out on Wednesday evening with Connor and his friend. I was not subtle about wanting to go without Corrigan. I don’t know if I have mentioned it before (I have. Many times. Sorry.) but Corrigan is….ahem….a difficult child out in public. In fact, his tantrums have brought security to my side to ask me if he was okay. I get the side-eye, judgmental stares from strangers in the supermarket. Much to my chagrin, I have that child.

I never get to eat in restaurants. I sit in the car with a screaming two-year old while the rest of my family chows down. I do not get to leisurely stroll through the mall because if I dare turn into a store, Corrigan flips out.  I cannot take him to outdoor events because he always runs straight into danger and then loses his ever loving mind if I try to gently steer him in another direction. Everything that I have to do, outside of the house, with Corrigan, I do at the speed of light. In and out, no hesitating, no browsing, no such thing as shopping.  I have to execute a market run like it is a S.W.A.T. drill at NASA.

So when I asked if maybe Mark could keep the baby home while I went and did some creative shooting I was hoping for a “hell yeah Mindy, you deserve some time to yourself” but instead I got a “why don’t we wait until tomorrow night and take Corrigan, he will love the lights and sounds and smells.”

Uh. Okay. Sure. Great…not.

It didn’t go well. He was poorly behaved, as usual, screaming at the top of his lungs while nearly ripping out his gastronomy tubing trying to climb out of the stroller.  The one ride that I tried to take him on had to be stopped early (sorry other passengers) not because he was scared, but because he wanted to stand while it was moving and…well…let’s face it, telling Corrigan “no” is the worst mistake in the world. Unless you don’t care about being that mom with that kid.

We went home.  I didn’t get any shots. I didn’t get a bite of fair food. I didn’t get to stare at the strange (but awesome!) locals. We left the bigger boys to have fun and we came back to our dungeon.  Back to the same walls that I look at every single day of my life.

But hope! Someone had to pick the boys up at 9:30 and why couldn’t it be me?

I headed back out to the fairgrounds and was fairly excited about shooting a few frames at least. As I approached the scene, after parking 2.2 million miles away, I saw a view that I thought would look cool as an iPhone photo. Do you love Hipstamatic as much as I do?

I pulled my phone from my messenger bag, took the shot and then moved into the crowd.

I do not know what made me look in my bag but a few minutes later I checked to make sure that when I took my phone from the bag, I did not drop my license or bank card.

I did.

I was frantic, I ran back to where I took the iPhone shot and scoured the ground. Nothing.  I found the older boys and we went all over the fairgrounds to various information booths, and even to the main office, asking if anyone had turned in a bank card. Nope.

I called Mark and he went through my wallet and purse ( I had just tossed my license and bank card in my messenger bag before leaving so I wouldn’t have to carry two bags) and he couldn’t find it either.  I was sick to my stomach. After trekking back to the car I was envisioning the problems if someone used my card and all of the bills that I had out for payment and what was going to happen when, as I sat down in the driver’s seat, I looked down and saw my card. On the floor of the Durango.

I got one Fair shot. Well, two if you count the silly iPhone photo. Later, Corrigan woke at 3am, refused to go back to bed, at 3:20am the dog took a massive crap in the middle of my living room (and he weighs more than my mom, so you can imagine what that looked like) and even now, at 4am as I am trying to type out my thoughts Corrigan is scratching at my arm, screaming at me about something and yeah….this has been one of the most stressful evenings I have had in months.

Calgon, take me away.

4 thoughts on “just a glutton for punishment, I suppose.

  1. Mindy, I dont know whether to feel sorry for your or laugh. You make the worst possible scenerio sound hilarous. with your descriptions I can pretty much visulize what you are saying and it’s almost like watching a comedy script. You just can’t make this stuff up.

    So, can I just feel sorry with a smile… BTW, love both photos… 🙂


  2. I love you Mindy. You shouldn’t have to go through all of that. I don’t have any thing inspirational to say. I have absolutely no idea what you are going through. I could only research subjects semi related to your predicament. I found this article. I hope it helps somewhat. The bottom line is when your time is up in this life you, Lady, are going straight to heaven. I don’t know about the rest of us, I mean me.lol



  3. Mindy,

    I’m with Glenn. My heart goes out to you. I have to admit, when I got to the part about the dog crapping in the middle of the floor, I got a BIG smile on my face and I was so tickled. It made hot sticky hockysticks here better. I also feel extremely guilty about that. I so look forward to your postings. Your writing can make the worst things sound wonderful and fun. 100 pound (?) (big) dog craps on the floor in the middle of the night…. you bring a smile to everyone elses face.

    By the way, I don’t remember him being that big when I met him. Or else your mom is super tiny. 🙂

    Either way… thank you, sorry, and call if you need anything. Can’t supply sanity, have lost mine, but will try to supply anything else.


  4. Glenn, glad you laughed! Something good MUST come from this crazy life that I live!!

    Mary, my mom is 4 foot 11 inches tall (actually, she will not admit it but her last hospitalization the nurse told she was 4 foot 10.5 inches! ) and weighs less than 90lbs. Seriously. If Jericho stands on his hind legs, he is taller than my mom. So are most 5th graders. hehehe.

    Mark, I love you back. Thank you for commenting and the article. I have never uttered the words, “Why me” but I have cried out silently, to God, “Why Corrigan???” late at night. I like the article’s explanation that God does not give us the answers because we are not ready to hear the answer and, in the midst of our suffering, it would not be sufficient enough.

    I really like God saying “Quiet, I know best” I know that He does.
    I am hopeful that things will improve. I can get through this.

    Thanks for commenting, friends!!!!



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