Wednesday, October 28, 2009

"I Feel Like I'm Falling for Fall"

This title is the name of a song they've been playing on NickJr, and I second that -- Fall is the best season, isn't it? I've been able to get the kids out without the heat driving us back inside after 10 minutes. But we are having a rather WET Fall so far, so we've had to sit and watch the rain a lot, too.
Speaking of the rain, I have always wanted to be one of those prepared people.

She has an umbrella ready, maybe even rain boots. The one with her cute little stainless steel water bottle hooked to an adorable backpack, and healthy treats stored in cute containers stacked neatly in the pantry for the little ones. Kleenex and moist wipes tucked into a trendy diaper bag for use when she's in Walmart. She gets up early to eat a healthy breakfast, read her Bible, load up the crockpot with an amazing new dinner recipe -- nutritious and inexpensive, of course -- and take a long relaxing shower to prepare for the day. Last night's leftovers stored in a tidy tupperware box, so she can pull it out and stand in line for the microwave in the faculty lounge. Homemade babyfood lining the refrigerator shelves labeled with the date and contents. Laundry hamper with cute titles like "Daddy's Duds." All three kids' outfits lying neatly on the bed waiting for little hands and feet to jump in. Hats and gloves labeled and safety-pinned to their coordinating jackets for easy locating. Maybe before they head out the door, she'll pull out one of the ziploc bags holding a craft project she's prepared ahead for an afternoon activity . . .

I want to be her, but I am resigned to be:

The mom who drops the two-year-old at preschool and discovers she forgot to wipe the oatmeal of her face but has no wipes in the van or the bag, and notices her jacket's getting a little too snug. And wasn't she supposed to bring a pack of pull-ups today? Gets soaking wet getting back into the car because she didn't watch the weather and had no clue it was supposed to storm. Arrives at work and thinks seriously about buying a one dollar bottle of water and maybe a cup of coffee, too, since she still hasn't located her favorite travel mug. I bet it's under the seat in the van -- everything ends up there. But, she reconsiders, due to the guilt of being environmentally and financially irresponsible. Instead, she steals a small cup of coffee from her office neighbor and heads into her office. She hears her stomach rumbling . . . breakfast. She knew she forgot something. . . hmmm. A pack of trail mix in the drawer will do, and she'll just use her precious work time to read a quick devotional thought or listen to a Christian podcast. So glad she took a quick bath with the rowdy little one last night, or her officemate might request a transfer. She takes a second to call the babysitter because she thinks she left the iron on and wants to remind her to keep the key handy since the garage door is broken. The twins need a bath, too; they didn't get one last night, but she thinks they're out of baby wash. Oh and can she pull a pound of hamburger out of the freezer -- not sure what she'll make for supper with it, but she'll figure it out when she gets home. ..

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A Case of the Mondays

There are two "myths" I know for sure are true (well, surely more than that, but still):

1. The Full Moon Thing.

I know -- "luna"tics, "luna"cy, werewolves. . . heck, pagans have a holiday for the full moon, don't they? It shouldn't be true, but it just is, so hush. Kid not sleeping well tonight? E.R. full of people with crazy weird injuries? Betcha it's a full moon. . . if you've ever been a teacher, a mom, or a healthcare provider, you believe me. Maybe it's the atmosphere or the devil or whatever, but full moon=craziness at night, man. HOWWWWWL!

2. The Mondays.

We've all had them -- days that just stink. They start off badly, they end badly, and we lose it at some point and want to curl back up in the bed and try getting up again and start over. And those days . .. lemme just ask. . . aren't they always Mondays? I had one yesterday. I wrote to a dear friend that my day this past Monday was frightful, but probably could be entertaining to someone on the outside looking in. So, why not . . .

This past Monday, I woke up and felt like poopie to begin with (Woody was up at 12, 3, 5), but I actually had Ellie up, the boys changed and fed, and I was halfway ready myself by 7, which is pretty good for us. We had an appointment for Woody in Bossier City at the neurosurgeon to follow-up on his second shunt revision (BOOOO), but my appointment card showed a date and no time. I figured I'd just call on the way to be sure -- they always make it some time between 9 and 10 anyway.

We got in the car at 8. . . no gas. Of course. Gassed up, and ready to go (late). I grabbed my coffee cup (coffeee. . . . . .glorious coffeeeeee) and it was a cup I don't usually use. Yep. I was drinking from the wrong part of the cup. The boiling-freaking-hot coffee came out and poured down my chin onto my chest (all while I was driving through town). I squealed and tried not to wreck my mini-van. I wondered what to do (I felt like I had been showered in acid). My face in the rearview mirror looked like I had been laying out at the beach and forgot to put sunscreen on my chin, neck, and chest -- no lie. I was beet red, not to mention I was going to a place of business with coffee all down my front. Do I need to get first aid ointment of some type? Where could I stop? I'd have to get both babies out of the car to do that, and we're late. Crud. Oh well, surely it'll be ok.

On I-49 about 8:15 (several miles north of town) I called the doc to check on the appointment time. No answer. That's odd, I thought. Try again. No answer. I let it ring through to the answering service: "Ma'am, they're closed today for Columbus Day."

Columbus Day? Really? Some Italian mistakenly lands in the Bahamas centuries ago and suddenly I'm on the interstate with twins for no reason? So, instead, we go to physical therapy (which I had cancelled for my non-existant appointment in Shreveport). The boys cry all the way through their session (30 bucks co-pay down the drain), since they were grumpy and tired from being in their carseats for 40 minutes -- FOR NO REASON -- either that or they were frightened by the jacked up appearance of their coffee-burnt caregiver.

Still don't believe in the Mondays?