The other day, I woke up earlier than usual. My alarm went off at 6AM, and I actually didn’t hit the snooze button like I always do. As I was getting out of bed, my fiancé was grabbing his belongings and leaving for work. A quick kiss goodbye was followed by my shuffling to the bathroom to start getting ready for work.
I woke my son, Jayson, up first so he could start getting himself ready as I prepared his breakfast. When waking my daughter, Evelyn, she flipped over and cuddled the pillow. I put a bottle of milk in her mouth as she slowly cupped it, with her eyes still sealed shut. Jayson said his eggs were too hot, so I got Evelyn dressed and presentable, made my bed, and brushed my hair while stepping on a talking doll who starting singing the alphabet. I immediately thought, “I really have to tidy up this mess when I get home tonight.” When I come back into the kitchen, I realized Jayson still hadn’t touched his eggs because he was “still waiting for them to not be hot”... 8 minutes after putting his plate in front of him.
Once everyone was ready, I started making the final call in hopes that my children would follow me as I left the house, carrying more things than during a grocery trip. I am stopped in my tracks when Evelyn lets out a high-pitched shriek because she sees her brother wearing his backpack and she needs hers, too, right now. Jayson runs to her room, grabs her backpack and puts it on her. Best big brother ever. At this point, she’s saying she was to go to school with him. After reminding her multiple times that she can’t go to Elementary School because she’s not old enough she was still crying saying she wants to go, no matter what.
We are finally in the car, 10 minutes later than anticipated, and I’m rushing as much as I can, while trying to drive the speed limit, to Jayson’s school (A). I dropped Jayson off for before-care at the front office, and parked right next to the door because time was quickly evaporating. Evelyn notices that I have no intention of taking her out of her car seat and reaches the realization that she’s not going to school. I left Jayson’s school with a screaming toddler, trying to smile and wave at those who were entering, maintaining my cool. I got her to calm down by redirecting her focus, when instantly the traffic hit on the first main road I take.
All of a sudden, I am in bumper-to-bumper traffic, frantically looking at the time, seeing the minutes fly by, inevitably regretting my decision to not have taken the back roads. I’m carefully swerving through lanes, avoiding getting stuck behind construction trucks, trying to get to my daughter’s daycare. I dropped Evelyn off, and drove into traffic again because this time, there were no back roads to get to work. My adrenaline is pumping as I try my best to get out of the busiest lanes, careless drivers are unexpectedly hitting their brakes because they don’t see the cars abruptly stopping in front of them, and I’m praying I can get to work on time.
At 7:57AM, I pull into a parking space at work and bolted up the stairs, skipping steps like I used to do in Middle School for fun. Except this time, it’s not Middle School and I don’t exercise regularly like when I had P.E. in said Middle School. My heart was pounding, partially because I’m out of shape and also because I’m too old for this. As I reach the top of the steps, I’m trying to grasp the correct key in between my panting. As soon as I open the back door, my manager, Bonnie, is right in my face asking me why I had told the 8AM patient she could come in at 8:15AM (X). I explained that the procedure she was scheduled for would only take about 30 minutes, as Bonnie informed me that the next patient was scheduled at 9AM. Regardless, there is a 15 minute grace period for patients, in case they happen to be running late. Bonnie was telling me how she was arguing with the patient over the phone and the patient hung up on her. Bonnie didn’t know I had given the patient an option to come later and she felt completely out of the loop. I tried to keep calm, after all, today would have been Bonnie’s 25th anniversary with her ex-husband, and she was on edge.
I was able to reach my desk, plopped down onto the chair, exhausted already and it was only 8:02AM. My coworker was on her way to find the doctor when she stopped to told me how much she loved my sweater. When I looked down, I was wearing the sweater my mother bought for my grandmother, months before she passed away. My grandmother never got to wear it because she was in hospice. I must have quickly put it on this morning because it was chilly but I didn’t have time to think twice about it, about anything. I was overwhelmed with emotion from rushing to work, being reprimanded by my boss, and now, painfully missing my grandma more than normal. It all hit me at once, crashing down like a powerful wave and my eyes started to tear up at the front desk, twice (B). Each time, I breathed deeply, trying to regain my composure. I didn’t have much time to dwell, as the phone rang and with one long inhale, I blurted, “Thank you for calling …”
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