I had a bad day.

The morning started off okay. The afternoon wasn't terrible. It was the evening that turned it into a bad day. I locked us out of the house. Again. That is right, I did it once before when my sister was here visiting. But this time was worse. Let me set things up so you can understand why it was worse. I didn't get much sleep this weekend, was out late in NYC 2 nights ago and couldn't sleep last night. So I was not all that chipper today. Baby S is sick, I don't mean just a runny nose sick, I mean go to the doctor sick. She has been fussy all day, not eating and not sleeping because she is in pain. I decided she needed to go to the doctor because I knew the parents wouldn't come to that conclusion. I called the mother and told her I thought she needed to go because she had a terrible cough. She set up the appointment for after we picked up big sister S from school. I get all the things together and set out. We pick up S from school and go have some ice cream because we have a little time to kill. I should have seen the bad day coming when I went to the wrong doctor's office. They call the other office and decide to squeeze us in, so we stay there. Turns out Baby S has an ear infection and a blister in her throat (the reason for not eating). We leave the doctor's office and I realize that I forgot S' soccer ball at home and the coach does not provide them. We forgot once before and some mother had brought an extra. We had just enough time to run home, so I decide to do that instead of taking my chances of an extra ball. We get home and I run inside while S is putting on her soccer clothes. I search high and low and there is no ball to be found. I call the father P and he tells me it is in the car he is driving, so just take the volleyball that is in the backyard. By this point, S is inside helping me look. We couldn't find the volleyball either, so I told her to forget about it, we weren't going to soccer anymore. Then she found it. She didn't want to go, but I said, "We better since your parents are paying for this". We rush outside and I shut the door. Right away I knew. I left the keys somewhere. I search the car and backyard and they aren't there. I look through the window and there they are, sitting on the steps. And it was at this moment that S tells me she needs to go to the bathroom and a minute later shares with me that she pooped her pants. I felt like the biggest idiot calling P and telling him I had done it again. I was in tears on the phone with my family telling them how dumb I felt, making sure S was on her bike away from me so she wouldn't see me crying. But I kept reminding myself that when this happened before, they said they would put out a key and I heard them talk about it a couple times, but they never did. So why should I feel bad when they didn't put out the extra? You need to understand how many things I have to remember when I leave the house: for Baby S, change her diaper, get a bottle ready, check diaper bag for diapers, hat, sweater,blanket, sunscreen, toys, pacifier, Baby S in carseat; for S, in morning, backpack, coat, show & tell on Fridays, lunch, after school, snack, water bottle, ponytail holder if hair isn't up, if soccer, soccer ball, socks, shorts, shin guards, tennis shoes, if gymnastics, leotard, if tennis, tennis racket, possibly shorts, socks and tennis shoes; for me, my purse, shoes and keys. I don't know how I remember everything and I usually do. But when I am rushing out or frantically looking for something, something is forgotten, and this time it was the keys. I am just happy to remember most of the things. However, I still feel bad, the father came home early and the mother had to take the train home. They are both crabby because of this and because Baby S is sick, so I snuck upstairs as they are having a big fight about the baby's antibiotics, the first time I have ever heard them yell at one another. And I can't help but feel like I am somewhat to blame. Maybe they will learn a lesson from this, to put out a key or give me the extra garage door opener. It was this day that made me want to go home more than ever, leave this job behind. Six months down, eight more to go. Oh, and to add insult to injury, when I got in the car to go get Baby S' medicine, the song Bad Day by Daniel Powter was just starting. And it made me want to cry again, because it was a bad day.