Last night my husband said, “We need to talk about tomorrow morning. I need to be at work at 6:30.” I said, “I don’t guess we really need to talk about it. I just need to take Allie to school.” And we went to bed. I guess we should have talked about it some more, because I woke up this morning at 7:19, about the time we usually leave the house to take Allie to school. Both of the kids were still asleep.
I darted into Supermom mode and roused the girls while stepping into clothes for work. I got Shelby dressed and brushed her hair and microwaved breakfast sandwiches for us all to eat in the car (thank you, God for convenience foods). I got Allie (who said she would do her hair at school) to school on time and careened onto my street to see Shelby’s bus already parked in front of my house and waiting. I pulled up beside the driver to ask him to move the bus so I could pull into my driveway to get my daughter safely out of the car and onto the yellow dog. I ran up to the house and grabbed her back pack and sent her on her way.
I then had 15 minutes to change from house shoes to real ones, put on make-up, fix my hair, make coffee (priorities) and grab my lunch to get out the door. I cut a few corners on the make-up (who am I kidding anyway) and was miraculously about to jump in the car with no seconds to spare – when I saw it. Shelby’s anti-seizure meds still sitting on the counter. I deflated like an old balloon. I called my boss as I jumped in my Toyota and apologized while telling her I had to make a stop at my daughter’s school and would be late.
I made it in 30 minutes late to a day so busy and hectic that I got to go relieve myself only once and had a few seconds to heat up my lunch before returning to my desk to scarf it down. The one time I did go to the john, I looked in the mirror and saw the horror that was the bra/ shirt combo I had chosen. I worked an extra 40 minutes (maybe making up for the morning), leaving with just enough time to get to Allie’s school for pick up. After taking her straight to a neighborhood babysitting job, I pulled up to my house the same time as Shelby’s caseworker with whom I had an appointment. I let her in the service entrance (a.k.a the garage) with me and Allie’s dog Monkey escaped like a convict with a taste of freedom. I ushered the case worker in and then proceeded to chase this demon chihuahua down the street until I gave up and came back to greet my guest – a disheveled mess (me, not her).
Monkey came back and scratched at the door a few minutes later (“It’s not so bad living in our cool, cozy house, is it you ingrate?”), and I wrapped up the meeting with MHMR just in time to visit the little cowgirl’s room for only the second time today before shoving Shelby back in the car to go to speech therapy. If you didn’t catch that she was home with me, it’s because I can’t remember when, in between all this other stuff, I got her off the bus. And now after arriving home, making dinner, cleaning up the kitchen and helping my husband look for his keys, I am finally sitting in my favorite chair and almost relaxed.
Why did I tell you all of this? Because just in case I have EVER given you the impression here on my blog that I have all my chili together, I want to assure you that