One evening in January, I went to bed late. Which meant, subsequently, I woke up late. Leaving me a mere hour to get myself prepared for a few days in the Spare Room, get Daughter on the bus, and get to school on time despite several inches of snow.
Number 1? Fail. Number 2? Fail. Number 3? Fail.
See, while I was running around like a crazy person, trying to shower, dress myself, pack my books, and pack clothes for the next two days, I was also sort-of cleaning for the person who cleans my house. I vowed I would never become that person, but alas, I grew up. The pile of recycling overflowed its poor brown grocery bag and entirely filled the gap between the pantry and the fridge. It was embarrassingly atrocious, and in my OCD state I could not allow it.
So I asked daughter to take out the recycling. Great idea, right? She's done it before. Never this Much recycling a mere fifteen minutes before the bus was to arrive, but what's that to a stressed out mom?
I continue running around, and a confused daughter trudges inside and outside with several loads of recycling. And I notice that she hasn't come back in a while. I stick my head out the door, and she is struggling a bit with the last bag. I yell some, er, "encouragement" out the door. She empties the bag. I tell her to walk around to the front of the house, and I will let her in the front door, thinking to myself that this will avoid snowy shoes walking through the length of the entire house. Ironically, I had forgotten the cleaning lady was coming.
So I run to the front of the house, and open the front door, and wait. And wait. And in horror, I realize she didn't understand. SHE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND. I run to the back door. Sure enough, there she is in the entry. And I flipped out, yelling something to the effect of why are you in the house why don't you listen etc etc.
Don't worry, I see the error in my ways. And I saw my error immediately that day as well. Here's Daughter, with tears in her eyes because I'm the MEANEST MOM EVER. And I'm about to leave for a few days. So I wave off the bus, reconcile with Daughter, and try to finish packing as quickly as possible so she isn't late to school.
I start the car, Daughter waits inside it, and I run in the house for the last load. As I walk inside, I yell to God. "HELP MEEEEEEEEEE! HHHHHEEEELLLLLLLPPPPP!"
I hear a thunk, and someone approaches. Suddenly, Mocha appears in the doorway.
Sigh.
So yes, in the end, I totally missed my 9 a.m. class. Daughter missed the bus. And I went way beyond my one hour time limit. Fail fail fail. BUT my teacher was fine with me missing class due to horrible metro traffic, Daughter and I shared a moment in the car, and my dog is a servant of the Lord. The end.
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