I got up at 6:30 this morning. For some diligents out there, that’s sleeping in. But for me, it’s an accomplishment. And for once in a very, very long time, I got to start a day out with prayer. It’s a good thing, too, considering the events that would ensue.
Once fully awake, I treated myself to a morning run with the pooch. I arrived home and stretched a bit before making pancakes and bacon for my hard-working husband. Things were okay… he’d have just enough time to scarf it down before running off to his 9:25 class. That is, until I remembered the pediatrician appointment.
Though we had rehearsed the plan already, both of us had forgotten that I was supposed drop my husband off at class and go directly to the baby’s 10:00 check-up.
I went from basking in the glow of my run (i.e. unshowered and “all stinky,” as my daughter likes to remind me) to frantically grabbing keys and whatnot to rush my husband off to his class. My beautiful, fluffy, buttermilk pancakes were inhaled on the 3-minute drive to class, where my husband hopped out and disappeared in a flash.
The whirlwind was in full force now. I hurried back home to feed the girls. Rushing into the house, I stuck the baby in her highchair, threw some Cheerios on her tray, slopped some pancake batter into the frying pan, and dashed off to shower. BAD IDEA. I’m not really sure which of my five senses kicked in first. Perhaps it was the olfactory one, as I sniffed that dreaded smell of burning food. Or perhaps it was the auditory one, as I heard my two-year-old exclaim, “Oh no! Mommy, I spilled the box of Cheerios, can you please help me clean up?” Well anyways, these were soon followed with the optical sense, upon turning a corner to discover a floor literally covered in Cheerios and a frying pan sporting some horrifically blackened pancakes.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to turn away, as we simply didn’t have time. For a desperate alternative, I grabbed some bananas and container of Cheerios, wrestled my preschooler into some clothes, and hurried the girls out to the car.
9:52…and my GPS gave me an arrival time of 10:00. Nice!
On the drive, I fumbled around with some makeup while trying to get my racing heart back down to a normal state. Don’t want those people in the waiting room to think I don’t have it all together! We arrived at 10:05. Not too bad, all things considered. We quickly made our way inside, signed in, and promptly sat down, where I proceeded to brush my daughter’s snarly hair and tidy it up into a couple of ponytails. Satisfied with my work, and exhausted from the morning, I finally settled into the chair to wait.
I didn’t get to rest, though. A receptionist immediately called me back up to the desk. Then she said it.
“I’m sorry, but your appointment’s not till tomorrow.”
I looked at her dumbly. So she tried again.
“I’m really sorry, we’re just too busy to get you in today.”
I must have really seemed confused, because she kept going.
“…We have you down here…for Friday…at 10:30?”
“Wait, so you mean I don’t have an appointment today?”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine…uh, thanks! Sorry ’bout that!” and, trying to look as casual and nonchalant as possible, I exited the building.
And that’s just how the day started…
At least I learned one thing from the whole ordeal. Lying to myself about appointment times, in order to get myself there on time, actually does work. But maybe 24.5 hours is a bit much…