We all have our hectic days. We oversleep, forget our purses, lock our keys in the car, can't find a matching pair of socks, don't pack a lunch. Mornings at my house seem to fall in the hectic category. There is usually a dearth of underpants and/or socks that match (each other, not the underpants). Hair needs to be fixed, lunches made, breakfast prepared and eaten, cats provided for, and of course, the fire has to be fed. All of this must happen within a 50 minute time period, or all heck will break loose. And don't let me forget to take my daily pill, without which my heart will launch into the mother arrhythmia of all arrhythmias. Did I mention taking a shower and getting dressed?
This morning was no different than any other of our frenzied beginnings. I hit the snooze button four times in a row, cutting that 50 minute window down to an even smaller amount of time. This meant that my shower was cut to a mad minute, and there could be no fashion show before donning the final ensemble. Sofie hadn't gotten herself dressed by the time I had popped out of the shower, so I had to shoulder that decision, too. Seemingly an easy task, it is not usually easy to gain the approval of her chic, seven-year-old eye. This morning, however, it was a piece of cake. Everything seemed to run smoothly, and amazingly, we were out the door on time. I caught myself preening at that fact. I should have understood then that there was more than one thing wrong.
Arriving at the babysitter's, I looked at my daughter. "EEEK!", I cried, "I haven't done your hair!" Indeed, she was sporting a bad case of bed head. As I finger-combed her snaggly hair into two new pigtails, I sealed the deal for Sofie to return to the babysitter's after school. Between her squeaks of indignation at having the snarls teased out with my fingers, I ascertained that she had the appropriate bus note for her teacher. I bent down to kiss her rosy cheek. "I'll pick you up on my way back from the dentist," I murmured. Another "EEEK!" issued from my mouth. "I forgot your piano music!" I dashed out the door, my arms propelling me to the car.
Backtracking our morning drive was easy. The hard part was when the gas light came on and I had to make the executive decision to not stop for gas in the morning. It took only seconds to dash into the house and grab the piano music. Heading to work from my house was a little trickier. You see, Doting Reader, the road is being repaired between my abode and my place of employment. Every day there is some change in the traffic pattern, whether it is in the form of cones, flaggers, new lanes, or even a detour. On top of that, I don't traverse that exact route in the mornings. As I approached the area in question, I saw cones on the left and a wide swath of road to the left of them. "Oh", I thought to myself, "they have divided east-bound and west-bound with the cones." This surprised me, for it left two spacious lanes for me and the other driver going my way. As we neared the overpass, I realized that the right lane must be a turn-only lane for drivers entering the freeway. As I was heading to go straight over the overpass, I got into the left lane. It was so roomy on the road for that split second, kind of like sleeping in my own bed without my kid forcing me to the side to "surf the edge". My eyes drifted to the left and I was startled to see the road in pieces on the other side of the cones. In the blink of a moment I was wondering where those east-bound drivers were supposed to be, and in the next moment I realized that I was driving on their side of the road. I swerved back into the right lane and tucked behind a driver who was doing his best to ignore my blunder.
In the same instance that I was exhaling my breath of relief upon arriving to work in one piece, the thought hit me that I had failed to give my daughter money for lunch. Just yesterday we received both the phone call and the email, reporting that her food service balance was negative. I ground my teeth together and whipped out my checkbook. The time clock was ticking in my head, and I was most certainly late. Not only that, there was a major deadline in fifteen minutes, and I had not yet met it. Hastening inside, I found a worthy messenger to deliver the lunch money to the appropriate person at Sofie's school. The next stop was my coffee cup.
I wrenched the cupboard door open and snatched my cup off the shelf. Grabbing the can of precious instant coffee, my heart sank. I could tell there was not enough in it to make an entire cup. Peeling the lid off, I peeked in and confirmed my suspicions. I had just enough for 3/4 cup. Briskly I took my precious elixir of life and made my way to the all-important computer.
The remainder of the workday was rather uneventful, except for the fact that I read the wrong answers to my horrified students and that resulted in some momentary confusion regarding what was assigned and who did what and what was I thinking. In the end we sorted it out to everyone's satisfaction, but not after pointing out that it was I who had been at fault. I warned them not to entrust me with their deepest secrets or most treasured possessions, as I was a wild card today.
Over lunch, I detailed my morning and all of its mishaps to a co-worker. "Oh", she said understandingly, "you had a Mom Moment!"
After work I buzzed to the gas station before heading to the dentist's office. I felt pleased that gas did not shoot out of the tank and spray my pants and shoes, as has been known to happen. My Mom Moment was over.
Arriving at the dentist's office, I sat down with a magazine to wait my turn. Without my cheater glasses, I could read nothing. Instead I contented myself by looking at the other patients, wondering if they were having their teeth cleaned, or like me, did they have mysterious tooth aches? I didn't have to wait long and soon I was seated in the dentist chair. Taking an x-ray was the first order of business, and it was a little less pleasant than usual. Instead of marching into a special room, suiting up in a lead apron and having a hard plastic thing forced in my mouth, I was allowed the special privilege of having it done in the exam room. While this may seem like the royal treatment to you, Jealous Reader, let me point out that it still involved being smothered in the lead apron, and instead of the hard plastic thing jammed in the back between my teeth, it was some sort of contraption that seemed to be stuck on the end of a S'mores fork that had seen better days. The long handle stuck out of my mouth for at least six inches, and the part in my mouth felt like I was biting a metal cube on its extremely sharp corners. One of those corners dug painfully into the roof of my mouth. Of course, the first picture didn't take, so we had to repeat the awkward insertion and removal process. In the end, after numerous bites on various bits of plastic hardware and cotton wads, there was no gaping hole found in my tooth. My day had been rearranged for this appointment, and there was nothing wrong. I know, I should have been rejoicing that there would be no further work in the oral cavity. Instead, I was inwardly fuming about wasting time and gas.
I jumped back into the car, drove to the babysitter's at a regulated speed - this day would be topped off by getting stopped, wouldn't it? - and picked up Sofie. We headed for home for a quick pit stop and fire check before heading to the piano lesson (thus nullifying my trip home this morning and the subsequent errors in judgment made in the construction zone). Arriving home, we were met by the workmen who had been threatening to come for days, but had not called to confirm their actual start date. The house looked a shambles, with a trailer-full of moldy siding in front of the house, bits of trash all over the yard, plastic wrap surrounding the most exposed parts of the house. As the supervisor proceeded to tell me of the perils they had faced while working on my house and the problems they had found, my mind was mentally counting up the spare minutes we were allotted for this stop. I nodded whenever he stopped speaking, totally ignoring the words that were coming out. He finally left, allowing us about five minutes before we needed to depart for the piano teacher's house.
I used my five minutes to make myself a cup of coffee. Having had only 3/4 of a cup in the morning, and enduring a day like the one I had had, I knew I deserved that hot cup of heaven. I poured it into a travel mug and took it with me. Arriving at Miss Sally's, we took off our shoes and entered the studio, perfectly on time. I felt smug. A day like mine, and I was still able to deliver the music student punctually. For the next half hour, I sat cozily in the studio, sipping my coffee, bathed in Christmas songs, happy that for those thirty minutes, I had absolutely no responsibilities. I made my weekly sketch of Sofie on the piano bench and savored my well-earned cup of orange café. The day's events ran through my mind again, and once more I marveled at my ability to roll with the day's punches and cope with all that was thrown in my direction. In all, I had forgotten to fix my daughter's hair, failed to give her the lunch money, left her piano music at home, driven on the wrong side of the road, arrived late to work, and practically missed the all-important deadline; I had run out of coffee and nearly out of gas. I had endured the dentist, two trips on the freeway and a surprise visit from the remodelers. All of this and yet we had still made it in one piece on time to the piano lesson. Heading out the door, we paused to put our shoes back on. My eyes went to the whiteboard posted outside of Miss Sally's front door. "Absolutely no food or drink in the studio!", the sign read. "This means you!" My shoulders slumped and I heaved a sigh as I slunk toward the car. This day was definitely not a Mom Moment. This was a Life Moment.
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