April 3, 2007
What’s Luck Got to Do With It?
Yesterday during my lunch hour I had several errands to complete. Normally, I’d run around town after work getting things done, but Doug had to work second shift at the store, and errand-running with a toddler always leaves me worse for the wear. Just like this last weekend.
Saturday was a hellish day. I woke up early to shower, get dressed and get Dawson ready for the Breakfast With the Easter Bunny event at our church. We arrived a little after 9 a.m., which I thought was good timing as Dawson seemed bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (no bunny-tail pun intended). We had pancakes, sausage and juice and Dawson decorated a paper bag with markers to collect Easter eggs at the hunt later.
After breakfast, the Bunny himself hopped over and Dawson was screaming as though he’d been pinched really hard. When it was time to have his photo taken with said rabbit, my son threw a tantrum. I think the parish members thought I was torturing my poor child.
Randy of Randy Rusin Photography was doing the photo taking and Dawson is familiar with Randy because he’d taken his photos at our old daycare nearly a year ago, and we often see him in church. On this particular day, Dawson refused to cooperate, so I now have a photo of my red-faced little boy, tears streaming down his face, on the Easter Bunny’s lap.
The Easter Egg Hunt was scheduled for 11 a.m. outside and it was rather windy. Dawson didn’t have any patience to wait so when it was finally time to hunt for eggs he didn’t have a clue what to do. I think he picked up four eggs and I knew it was time to leave.
We did our grocery shopping next and Dawson insisted on pushing one of those bright orange, miniature shopping carts. These carts are a mother’s worst nightmare. How do you keep a two-year-old from banging into people and those hideous gigantic aisle displays that basically demand to be rammed into?
After wrestling a screaming child into the car, I was so frustrated on the ride home I started to cry. I nearly drove into the parking lot of Kwik Trip to buy a pack of cigarettes. Suddenly a car in the right line switched into the left lane in front of me. The tan Buick had a bumper sticker on the back that said, “Pray the Rosary”. I immediately took it as a sign from God. He was with me. He was telling me not to smoke. This too, shall pass.
Sunday wasn’t much better, tantrum wise. Doug and I went to church, Dawson was misbehaving any chance he got. Screaming, throwing the palms on the floor, etc. I spent most of mass in the foyer, trying to gain control over my wild child.
After church we went to the Home & Garden show in town. Dawson decided to run around all over. Doug was growing impatient by the second. Dawson refused to nap that day and we were meeting my parents later at Merryland Ballroom for a polka dance. My uncle Mikey’s band, Paper City Sounds, was playing along with The Polish Connection.
Dawson loves polka music and insisted on dancing with anyone for every song. My father, my mother and I took turns (Doug doesn’t dance, at all) and toward the end of the evening, my son was ready for bed. When we got home I was exhausted.
Which leads me back to yesterday. In the morning, I was still exhausted. I managed to get through the first half of my day with the help of a large coffee from Emy J’s. After my errands at lunch time, I stopped at the gas station for a soda. The woman at the counter asked if I’d wanted anything else and I decided to buy a lottery ticket.
“Can I have one of the Shamrock Gold?” I asked.
“Just one?” she replied.
Even though I was born on St. Patrick’s Day, I’ve never felt like a lucky person when it comes to winning things.
“Yeah, I never win anyway, so one is enough,” I told her.
“Well, you need a positive attitude. Instead of saying you never win, say you’ll win today!” she said enthusiastically.
“You, know you’re probably right.” I replied.
As she was getting my change she asked if it was okay to give me a fifty-cent piece since she was low on quarters. I told her it was absolutely all right and hopefully that would be my lucky ticket scratcher.
“If you win with that coin, never ever give it away!” she said. “Good Luck!”
When I got back to my office, I told myself I’m a lucky girl and life is just a chair of bowlies. Tantrums may come and go, life may feel extremely difficult, but I’m alive and well.
I scratched off my ticke with the 1977 fifty-cent piece. I don’t know if it was JFK on the coin, the happy-go-lucky store clerk, my new positive attitude, or just plain ol’ luck; but I won ten dollars on that lottery ticket yesterday. I was so shocked I nearly peed green.
I feel a little luckier today… And that coin? Yeah, it’s safely tucked in my purse, waiting for the next time I feel lucky.
Posted by Dana @ 6:52 am • Uncategorized
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April 3rd, 2007 at 3:46 pm, Cheryl Says:
Oooh. The lottery. Hubby and I always mean to buy tickets for that darn thing, but we keep forgetting. We’ll never be millionaires because we’re too lazy. Oh well. // I’m glad the bad day ended eventually. I’ve dreamt about buying a pack of cigarettes, too. I think about it at least once a month.
April 3rd, 2007 at 5:09 pm, Leslie Says:
Wow - congratulations on your lottery win! Very nice.
Toddler temper tantrums can be unbelievable. Shortly after Julia has a tantrum spell, she’ll do something so amazing sweet and cute that the tantrums are erased. Thank goodness for that!