Zeca came home from school one day and excitedly showed me a fuzzy blue ball of yarn that a classmate had given her. Let’s call this classmate Gertrude. Zeca said, “Gertrude taught me to knit and gave me this yarn so that I could get started on a scarf!” I made excited clucking noises as one does when one is a distracted parent or a barnyard chicken. She continued, “She told me that I will have to go get some more and the only place they sell this kind is at Joann Fabrics so can you please take me to Joann Fabrics right now?”

I went to Joann Fabrics once and I didn’t like it. It is an ugly place and there is too much linoleum and the staff are all bitter white ladies wearing clothes they made themselves (in questionable patterns, I might add) and they are just looking for an excuse to patronize you. Plus, the fluorescent lighting doesn’t do anyone any favors. So, Zeca’s request to go to Joann Fabrics made me anxious in the “I will fake my own death to get out of this” kind of way.

In my sweetest and non-cluckiest voice, I said, “I can’t take you today but we will go at some point.” She nodded her head adorably and bounded off.

Within a week, she had used all of the yarn she had and asked again if I could take her to Joann Fabrics and, again, I said, “I can’t take you today.” Unlike the previous time, she did not nod adorably. She sneered. A sneer from her was better than a sneer from the crazy ladies at Joann Fabrics so I was undaunted regarding my current course of avoidance.

Several weeks passed and I was running errands with a friend and she mentioned that she needed to stop at the Crafty Planet to get yarn. This was my chance – I would buy Zeca a bunch of super soft yarn in a variety of colors and she would forget all about Joann Fabrics! I spent $40 on gorgeous yarn and, later that evening, presented it to her like an offering.

She smiled and said, “Thanks Mom. I really appreciate it but I still want to get the blue yarn from Joann Fabrics.” That was it. I needed to put an end to this.

Me: Honey, I think it’s time to move on about Joann Fabrics.

Zeca: But I want to finish my scarf and I need the same yarn.

She looked at me with those beautiful brown eyes and I did something I rarely do. I lied.

Me: Well, I went to Joann Fabrics earlier today and they didn’t have your yarn.

Zeca: They were out of it?

Me: Yep. All out.

Zeca: Weird. Gertrude came to school with several balls of it. She must have bought everything they had left.

Me (to Zeca): Yep.

Me (to myself): Sorry to pin the blame on you, Gertrude, but this has got to end and it ends today.

Me (to Zeca): Can we move on now?

She nodded sadly and went to knit with her expensive non-Joann Fabrics yarn. I had slayed the Joann Fabrics dragon! Huzzah!

A few days later, Zeca came home from school and said, “Mom! Gertrude came to school today with more of that yarn! They must have gotten more!”

Fucking Gertrude.

Me: I thought we had moved on.

Zeca: But I still want to finish that scarf. Can we please go to Joann Fabrics?

Me: I can’t take you today.

And we were right back where we started.

As Valentine’s Day approached, I realized that the perfect gift for her would be that damn yarn. So, I grabbed her unfinished scarf and drove to Joann Fabrics…except that, when I got to the store that I thought was Joann Fabrics, it was actually Hancock Fabrics and I realized I had no idea where Joann Fabrics was. I was so frustrated and – I have to be honest – I blamed Gertrude. This seemed like the perfect time to try out Siri on my fancy new iPhone.

Me: Where is the nearest Joann Fabrics?

Siri: I can’t help you right now. Try again later.

What?! Was she drinking gin and tonics and playing bridge with all the other Siris?

Me: Where is the nearest Joann Fabrics?

Siri: I can’t understand you.

This is not how it goes on the iPhone commercials.

Me (speaking slowly and with impeccable diction): Where. Is. The. Nearest. Joann. Fabrics?

She finally answered and I had to drive all the way from one undesirable suburb to another.

When I arrived, I dashed into the store, looked at no one and spoke to no one, wandered the aisles and finally matched the yarn. I briefly considered buying all of it so that I would never have to return but only bought four blobs of it.

On Valentine’s Day, I set the yarn out for Zeca with a box of chocolates and I was her hero for a day. Interestingly, she still hasn’t finished that scarf and the urgency seems to have passed. I’ve been given a reprieve.

I just hope Gertrude doesn’t take up bullfighting. We don’t have the space.

Yesterday, I woke up at 5:45 a.m. as planned but was exhausted after a night filled with mucous and mouth breathing. I don’t like mucous, don’t like sleeping with Kleenexes stuffed up one nostril, don’t like not being able to get comfortable because the cat insists on sleeping between my legs. That last part is a regular occurrence and has nothing to do with mucous and/or mouth breathing. In a way, I was glad that Luisa was in Zambia because I could use the entire bed to flail around and not sleep in. If she reads this she’ll probably be glad she wasn’t here too…because of the flailing and the Kleenex/nostril situation and the fact that I slept in my socks.

I dragged myself into the bathroom and used the neti pot which is different from the potty though I used that as well. Not at the same time, however. I’m just not that coordinated. I then went downstairs to make coffee and remembered that I had set it the night before and, if I could have made out with myself for thinking of that…I still wouldn’t have (see previous description of my appearance and general health). At some point during my first cup of coffee, I decided to call in sick to work to sleep. This lifted my spirits which were quickly dashed upon the rocks when my son bounded down the stairs an HOUR before he usually gets up. He then sat on the couch and watched me drink coffee. I told him to go to bed and he said “no” because he wanted to be with me and I said that I loved him very much but didn’t want to be with him and then he guilt tripped me and said he’d be quiet and then I said “but you can’t be quiet” and then he assured me that he could and then spent the next hour proving himself wrong.

I did manage to get the kids ready and to school without losing my patience despite the fact that they argued over who had to brush teeth first and I wanted to bang their heads together so there were no more teeth to brush. After I dropped them off, I came home and slept and, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, it was time to pick them up which only proves that sometimes time flies when you are not having fun.

After we returned home, I realized that crabbiness is one of my superpowers. I won’t bore you with the details because I’ve already bored you with so many details. Let’s just say that I was not a shining example of motherhood. I did make fajitas though so there is that.

Shortly after our fajitas, the children retired to the back room to tickle each other and do loud annoying things. I could hear the giggling. I could hear things escalate. I warned them to calm down and told them that it would end badly. They shrieked in joy and told me that they were having fun. Five minutes later, Miguel began to scream and cry. Zeca rushed into the living room to present her defense (an admirable performance – holding her allegedly injured hand while explaining that Miguel had bent her finger back). Miguel rounded the corner sobbing and threatened Zeca’s life before informing me that Zeca had choked him out and then punched him in the face. Zeca then burst into tears. I told them that I didn’t want to hear the explanations and told them to go to their rooms. They ignored me and chose to sob/yell/argue with each other. I then yelled with the authority of James Earl Jones and the volume of a concert loud speaker “GO TO YOUR ROOMS!” And they did.

Eventually, I allowed them to come down and they did a dramatic re-enactment of the incident for me. It turns out that Miguel did twist Zeca’s fingers (to get out of the choke hold) and Zeca did punch Miguel in the face. Case closed.

Somehow, we all survived the evening.

This morning, I woke up refreshed-ish. Maybe Day 2 will be the low point of this single-parenting gig. Yes? No? Maybe? Please.