Ah, Monday morning; the great supplier of blog material. Today was one of those lovely mornings where I was glad no one was around to see it…so naturally, I’m going to blog about it and expose myself to ridicule for the laughter and entertainment value of all. Mondays are hard for everyone. When something is going be challenging, it is time to rally and make it a game. Thus, Mondays are my ‘problem solving days’; if I am still standing at 8:00pm and all the members of my family are fed, clothed and relatively clean by bedtime, it counts as a win. The key to successful Monday morning of problem solving is usually all in the preparation. Today I even had back-up. Game time.
Problem 1: My usual Monday morning appointment was moved up to 8:30am. Small children are not allowed to come to appointments, so Firstborn goes to hourly care during appointments. Hourly care does not accept kids before their appointment time to the minute; the earliest I can drop Firstborn today is 8:30. Meanwhile, I must check in at the hospital by 8:20 or lose the appointment.
Preparation solution: Enlist the help of Hubby to meet me at 8:20 so that I can keep the appointment.
Problem 2: Hourly Care has VERY specific requirements for drop-off. If these are not met, the child is not admitted and there is a cancellation fee.
Preparation solution: Pack the diaper bag ahead of time. Include the required pieces for admittance to daycare: diapers, wipes, socks, closed-toe shoes, and IDs. In an attempt to be helpful and to prevent the need for repeated labeling, use the diaper-bag that has Firstborn’s name on it.
Problem 4: Hubby has never been to the hourly care facility. Any yellow lights that would separate our cars on the drive there now require stopping, potentially slamming on breaks to avoid other crazy drivers and not losing Hubby, as cell phone usage is not allowed on post.
Preparation solution: Hubby will simply follow me to the location and wait until 8:30 for the drop-off, allowing me to be on-time for the appointment.
Monday’s problems were going down…or so I thought. Now remember, all my maneuvering must be pictured with a basketball sized stomach, a penguin waddle, and a frazzled look. Here’s what really happened this Monday Morning:
We left on time with all required items packed. The follow-me-driving method resulted in me braking quickly for a yellow so we wouldn’t be separated; this threw loose items forward and made me involuntarily extend my arm out to be a human seatbelt for a non-existent passenger in the front seat. As we arrived at Hourly Care with 15 minutes for me to spare, I looked for the diaper-bag so I could put on Firstborn’s required socks and shoes. As I scanned the backseat, I saw NO bag. (Just reading that sentence should strike horror into every mother’s heart.) As I began a frantic search, Hubby announced to me that Firstborn was also pooping. Lovely. Naturally, the car’s emergency diaper-bag contents had been used the day before and were no longer in the car. Mommy preparation fail. At this point, my blood pressure is rising and my self-esteem is crashing. Now Firstborn can’t be dropped off for care, a cancellation fee will be due, and Hubby will be late for work. To his credit, he was totally calm, urged me to go to my appointment, and promised to handle everything. What a guy.
Quite upset, I switched cars with Hubby and started driving away to the hospital. Suddenly I saw Hubby’s arm swing out of the car, diaper-bag in hand and arm raised in triumph. Oh, happy day! This conveniently monogrammed bag is also camouflage; the bag had apparently flown off the seat and landed under the seat at my sudden stop. The reason that the camouflage was effective was that it was the dark BDU camo (old school) and not anything more recent, which only blends in with floral couches.
After breathing a huge sigh of the relief and declaring my husband the ultimate day-saver and master of the universe, I hopped back into my car. I raced to the hospital (going the speed limit, stopping fully at each stop sign and red light) and managed to find an empty spot on the second to last row. Bonus! Not even the last row this time! I hustled into the clinic to check in just in time, opened my wallet to retrieve the ID that is required for my appointment, and realized that it must be on my floorboard thanks to the yellow light right after entering post. Little known fact: at the pace of my 8-months-pregnant-speed walk, it takes 9 minutes to get from the clinic to the second to last row of the car and back.
After showing up 15 minutes early to over 20 appointments, being 9 minutes late warranted a “We wondered where you went off to. It seems like everyone is late today!” Ouch, my pride. I did my best. (Sob!) Naturally, the little one was uncooperative for the heart scan. As the fluid level was checked, the technician said, “Oh my! You’re having a little contraction aren’t you?” No, I’m just feeling some light pressure that comes with the glory of motherhood and thus must be fully enjoyed at all costs.
Insult to injury…when I picked up Firstborn, I made it all the way out to the car before realizing I had forgotten his diaper-bag inside. (Facepalm!) The rest of the day was filled with the Napless Wonder living up to his title and then returning to the hospital for a quick lancing at the dermatology clinic. Of course, this translates to wrestling down a greased piglet long enough for the Constitution can be tattooed onto its back. It was raining hard for our return to the car, at which point I saw a vacant Expectant Mother parking spot. For a moment I thought a motorcycle occupied the spot; if you can ride a motorcycle, you do NOT need the convenience of an expectant mothers parking spot. In another two minutes I was pushing a stroller with a crying child all over the parking lot, trying to locate my car in a total downpour. Yep, that person with the confused look and the screaming baby who lost a 1 ton piece of metal…that was me. Too bad I wasn’t caught on camera…it was such a proud moment.
So now as I wait for Hubby, Rescuer of Monday Mornings to arrive home, dinner is ready to go into the oven, Firstborn is finally playing happily, the trash is out, and the house is relatively clean. For a Monday, I declare it a win.