This was just one of those weekends.
Friday, I had training for a new program in LSH's office, helping Secondo do his Christmas shopping, a party for Secondo, a basketball game for Primo (in which Terzo went missing for a heart-stopping five minutes; I lost a good two years off my life right there) and a slumber party for Primo that I had completely forgotten about. The latter was not on our family calendar, and if it isn't on there, then all hope is lost as far as my remembering it goes. Of course he needed a birthday gift and do you think he asked me BEFORE I went shopping with Secondo? Ha ha. I was not-so-silently seething as I had to return to the exact same store I had been at just one short hour previously.
Saturday, we had to get our Christmas tree before the rain set in again on Sunday. Off we went with the dog in tow to our favorite little lot; got a gorgeous Canaan fir; came home to a surprise in our driveway: one of the old-time farmers had cut his leg with a chainsaw, and wanted to see if my LSH could stitch it up for him to save him the trip to the ER.
Now, having a doctor for a husband is a big advantage for us. Heck, he has even stitched up his own sons upon occasion. But on the other hand, there are many times that these little emergencies throw a wrench in the works, and this was one of them. The boys were due at another tree farm in less than an hour for a 4-H petting zoo fundraiser. But the cut was in a "good" place (back of the calf) and as minor as a chainsaw accident gets, so my LSH took pity on him and broke out the suture kits. The boys and I did our best to get the tree in the stand by ourselves but none of us really understands how the darn thing works (don't make fun of me, it is a highly complex tree stand which practically requires an engineering degree to operate, somewhat along the lines of the remote control system for our TV).
One hour and ten stitches later, the patient was on his way and I was flying out the door with boys in tow -- luckily, no animals were coming with us this time. We made it there a little late; we pulled Secondo out for his basketball game in the middle of the fundraiser; we got back at the house in time to shower, change, and go to a holiday party for Secondo's travel soccer team, of course a bit late. At one point the soccer team was running around outside in the dark, and one of them tripped over a low fence. He came in with blood running down his face and guess who came to the rescue? No chance of him stitching up this one, though, as one cut was on the boy's cheek and would require a plastic surgeon's touch. He was dispatched to the ER. My LSH and the boy's father had just finished discussing the chainsaw incident, too, and the father had remarked "don't these things always come in threes?"
Now that's just asking for a mighty karmic foot to come and boot you in the butt.
By Sunday morning Terzo was beside himself that the tree was standing naked in the living room with no decorations. He kept begging: "Just one little ornament? Or two? Can't we please start now?" Sorry, no time! We made it to church but it goes without saying that we were late and had to sneak in during one of the hymns. As I sat listening to the second lesson (we had missed the first) I noticed that the candles were very low, and idly wondered which Altar Guild team was in charge this weekend, and then it hit me like a ton of bricks:
MY TEAM WAS ON. And we had missed setting up for all three services. (You saw that one coming, right?)
At least I learned my lesson in other ways: a million and one pictures of tree choosing and decorating for 2009's photo album.