I'm lovin' it.

To begin, it is absolutely beautiful outside.  My lacrosse practice, which starts in just under an hour, will be held under a pale blue, warm, sunny sky.  And we won our first game yesterday; I actually had to call a time-out a few minutes into the second half to tell my girls to hold off on the scoring.  They were passing!  And catching!  It was delightful.  Last weekend, Marley was Pinkalicious herself while searching for jellybean-filled eggs some crazy bunny left in our yard.  (I was a parent volunteer at her preschool's book fair last week and got to read Pinkalicious, a new favorite, to Marley's class.  The kids were all wide-eyed and sitting crisscross-applesauce.  It was fantastic.)

But this morning, Marley, Rudy, and I brought my mom to an endocrinologist appointment.  In addition to having Alzheimer's, my mother is also an insulin-dependent diabetic, and this is a pretty terrible combination.  At appointments, she denies (or forgets?) that she eats nothing but peanut butter M&Ms and drinks nothing but artificially sweetened soda.  And then I have to contradict her so that the doctor understands what's actually happening.  And today, Marley was literally swinging on the bar of our stroller while Rudy burbled her barley cereal and I attempted to explain that we cannot possibly monitor every sugary bite my mother eats and that we want to wait as long as possible before taking over her insulin injections.  It was miserable.  And by the time we dropped my mom off at my sister's, where she lives in her own apartment among boxes of high-fructose corn syrup in all its incarnations, Marley was grumpy and hungry and sleepy, and I felt terrible for her.

"I know, Bean," I said, defeated but trying.  "How about a Happy Meal?" [Whoever named the McDonald's kid's meal was, truly, a marketing genius.]

(sniff, sniff.)  "Yeah.  Can we eat in Happy Meal?" [Marley believes that the "restaurant" is actually named Happy Meal.  Again: genius.]

And because my goal was to cheer up my daughter, dragged along on yet another medical appointment, I agreed.  Especially since Rudy had already eaten and was practically snoozing.  So we strolled into McDonald's and I ordered a Happy Meal, a Southwest Salad for me (with crispy chicken - canceling out any health factor that might've existed), and an iced coffee.  And then I tried carrying it all over to a table while also carrying Rudy in her infant car seat.

BOOM!  Iced coffee all over the floor.  

I found an employee and told him I needed help cleaning up a spill, and then the manager behind the counter offered me another iced coffee.  Thank you, sweet, sweet, McDonald's employees.  They brought me the coffee, I got Bean set up, and then the McDonald's angel mopped up my mess while I narrated for Marley:

"Isn't he so nice to clean up for Mommy?  Geez, I've got to be more careful with my drinks.  Thank you!"

Later, I dropped my fork and had to ask for a new one.  I told the manager I was having a bad day and he smiled and told me tomorrow would be better.

Later, my cleaning friend stopped at our table and leaned on his mop while he gazed at Rudy and asked how old she was.  His English was not fantastic, but his smile was warm.  I told him five months, and he told me that his daughter would be five months old in a few days.  I told him congratulations and he thanked me softly and smiled again, and I swear I almost started crying in McDonald's while he watched Rudy, probably missing his daughter while cleaning up after dopes like me in a crummy fast food restaurant.  And then Rudy kept laughing and giggling at Marley, and my day was better.  And I keep thinking about that dad and feeling weepy but glad.  Good Lord.  I need some sleep.  Or some more coffee.