Last week's Small Success Thursday is here. Mea culpa.
So much crammed into the weekend, I never had a chance to link up a post.
I wish I could say this week looked less busy, but it isn't.
Sunday I helped one daughter find a prom dress.
Tonight my 8th grade daughter gets confirmed. That alone makes for a full week.
Wednesday is the last CCD day, and my 4th grade daughter serving.
On Thursday, the oldest daughter flies home.
On Friday, one son has a party/sleep over.
On Saturday, the second youngest daughter has a Ninja party, and the 8th grader is invited to a swimming party.
So you may get next week's Small Success some time in June. Just saying.
Showing posts with label schedules. Show all posts
Showing posts with label schedules. Show all posts
Monday, April 25, 2016
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
The Quiet One
Every week, Tuesday threatens to destroy me until it doesn't. It starts with wake up, as if the kids are going to miss the bus, this is usually the day. It's also trash day and that means waking up the middle two early to take down the garbage. I make the lunches. The kids also have band so they need their instruments. Launching the top four, it is now the next 3's turn. They have papers to sign and things they forgot, but we make it to the bus and all have left the home, hair brushed, socks and shoes, coats and in some cases hats, and today, mercifully, no one forgot their lunch.
One returned home, she feels sick. My morning is now shot. I phone the doctor's and do my upstairs patrol --which means gather all the clothing and the trash and make the beds, make sure the toilets aren't clogged and the sinks speckled with toothpaste. I turn off the lights and shut the doors. On a good day, I make it through the main and top floor, on a great day, I mop and hit the basement. Today is not a good day.
Our bed needs stripping. I'm not scared because we have a new washer and dryer. We'll test those suckers out. Alas, the dryer for the first time, failed me. My comforter did not get comfortably warm until three cycles through. We go to the doctors, and the CVS, and back home. I rest for half an hour, which means I rodeo the laundry along and clean out the sink and clear out emails. It is time to take the teen to her job interview. Then I swing back home to pick up the kids from the bus, and then back to the two schools to get the tweens, the track star and then the job interviewer. I snag her to do a quick shop while she waits. We drive home, unload and start dinner.
It is Tuesday. Two have CCD, and another has basketball. They are sequential, not congruent, to ensure maximum inefficiency of my time. At 8:30, we begin the long trek home so they can eat a second dinner (not wolfed down), and finish any homework. I begin dishes and check the laundry and pick up the shoes, coats, lunch boxes, papers and socks. The house feels wrecked and disorganized. I feel wrecked and disorganized. Putting them to bed, my daughter handed me a note she'd drawn during a break in the action. "I LOVE MOM." It has me with a crown. I have been paid in full by the quietest of my children, when I felt most spent.
It's the quiet ones the Holy Spirit uses. Going to have to watch this one.
One returned home, she feels sick. My morning is now shot. I phone the doctor's and do my upstairs patrol --which means gather all the clothing and the trash and make the beds, make sure the toilets aren't clogged and the sinks speckled with toothpaste. I turn off the lights and shut the doors. On a good day, I make it through the main and top floor, on a great day, I mop and hit the basement. Today is not a good day.
Our bed needs stripping. I'm not scared because we have a new washer and dryer. We'll test those suckers out. Alas, the dryer for the first time, failed me. My comforter did not get comfortably warm until three cycles through. We go to the doctors, and the CVS, and back home. I rest for half an hour, which means I rodeo the laundry along and clean out the sink and clear out emails. It is time to take the teen to her job interview. Then I swing back home to pick up the kids from the bus, and then back to the two schools to get the tweens, the track star and then the job interviewer. I snag her to do a quick shop while she waits. We drive home, unload and start dinner.
It is Tuesday. Two have CCD, and another has basketball. They are sequential, not congruent, to ensure maximum inefficiency of my time. At 8:30, we begin the long trek home so they can eat a second dinner (not wolfed down), and finish any homework. I begin dishes and check the laundry and pick up the shoes, coats, lunch boxes, papers and socks. The house feels wrecked and disorganized. I feel wrecked and disorganized. Putting them to bed, my daughter handed me a note she'd drawn during a break in the action. "I LOVE MOM." It has me with a crown. I have been paid in full by the quietest of my children, when I felt most spent.
It's the quiet ones the Holy Spirit uses. Going to have to watch this one.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
7 Quick Takes Friday ...on Saturday
2. I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to. There are pools to swim in, berries to pick, beaches to walk on, ice cream to eat, just so much more summer that shouldn't just be packed up into a box and stuffed in the basement until Memorial day weekend.
3. It's no secret, I hate homework. It's like the equivalent of laundry in the school world. It's never finished, it never ends and no one is ever grateful, they only notice if it's done poorly or not done at all. End of rant 1.
4. Laundry, like homework; expected, constant, time consuming soul sucking, theoretically necessary and tedious. When is Spring break from the laundry? I want to know. End of rant 2
5. The ice machine of our refrigerator broke. It leaks such that I had to pay a repairman to properly break the ice machine so it would stop leaking. Breaking it properly didn't stop the machine from leaking, it just changed where the ice machine was making the ice. I now have to use a hammer to smash the ice to keep it from leaking onto my floor and then clear out the ice which causes the floor to once again, get very wet. The dryer is also not working, which makes it very hard to get wet clothes dry, a problem when you've banged up the ice and cleaned it up, and your clothing is no longer dry as a result. My life right now is measured in irony.
6. Sometimes I forget things. I write stories so often, some of them get lost. One of them even got published and I forgot all about it until the book showed up in my mailbox. Big Hearted by Patti Armstrong and Theresa Thomas is a collection of stories by families that could safely be categorized as larger than average. There's a piece in the book about our travels down to Texas for my brother's wedding last year. I think our story acts as a lighter fare, a sorbet before some of the meatier stories, to refresh the reader before heavier things are served.
7. Yesterday, I went to confession and mass. I'd been getting my daughter ready for school when she announced to me, "Today we are going to mass to learn how to behave at mass. My teacher is taking us. You will come won't you?" It's hard to resist such an invitation. I didn't.
Against my better judgment, I took Paul (age 4) and Anna (2) with me to the 9 o'clock. Each of them had eaten. Each of them had two toys. The players were a car, an elephant, a sabre tooth tiger and a horse. At my church, there is a cinder block wall in the back that serves as the cry room for squirmy toddlers. Parents look through the not quite see through glass and listen to the priest through the speaker and there is a kneeler right against the brick wall. On each side of the wall is an opening to the rest of the church.
People like me who show up without a stroller (dumb I know but it was wet from having been taken out of the car the day before to be able to load the car with laundry and thus subjected to the rain), spend mass praying neither child makes a run for it down the aisle. They didn't. However, within five seconds, my son had baptized the elephant and the car and dropped both behind the kneeler. I couldn't reach them. He sobbed. It was growing loud.
Looking around, I spied a green umbrella someone had left in the back of the church. I fished the toys out of the pit behind the kneeler during the homily hoping the woman with her beautifully behaved daughter weren't too appalled by my behavior or my children's. Stupidly I gave the toys back to my son. I grabbed the car before it returned to the pit but missed the elephant. I decided to wait on fishing until after mass. My son then went to get a book to drop in the perfect slot pit so my son's elephant could continue to follow along the mass even if the mother was now hopelessly distracted.
The well behaved kid came over to me at the sign of peace and told me my son's toy was trapped. The usher moved the kneeler and I quickly recaptured the elephant. However in the meantime, my son fished the car out of my purse and it took the pachyderm's place. Discouraged, I left the hot wheel for some other mom's lucky kid.
By the end of mass, my children were reasonably placid so I figured, why not go for broke and grab an opportunity for grace. Alas, there was a line that filled quickly both in front and behind me. I'm sure some of the people thought I was being pious as I kneeled to hold onto both children. It was more to get a better grip on them and avoid being pulled over by either.
The sacrament itself proved tricky as my son kept trying to throw back the curtain. At one point, his feet were sticking out as he was lying down facing the ceiling. It looked like a murder scene from an Agatha Christie movie complete with the screaming which I felt slightly grateful for, as they drowned out anyone else hearing my sins. I told the priest, today God needed a laugh so He said, "Let's try Sherry." He laughed.
Grace always comes with laughter, willful cooperation for me is always marked by humor. Next time I decide to go to a daily mass, we're going toyless. Besides, I can always just go fish out the green truck behind the pew.
Monday, September 24, 2012
Mom is Many Things, Not a Scout
I have tried three times before to be a supportive mother in the arena of scouting.
And by good, I mean I tracked down a person to sew on the patches the first go around.
When my first daughter expressed no interest, I breathed a sigh of relief.
When my second daughter became a daisy, I mooched off the den mothers mercilessly. Curiously, both families left the school, and with their departure, so ended scouting.
My next son and I declared our mutual indifference.
My next daughter ached to be a daisy but the only way that would happen is if there were a troop master. Was I interested? I admit, I used pregnancy as an excuse. It works for most people. They were annoyed when I tried it.
Now, we have come to the sixth child. He has patiently put up with being put off on this decision for two cub scout years. He's smart. He's done his homework. My next two daughters can do Daisies at the same time on the same day. Three doing an activity for the price of one errand. He knows this is a weakness I have. Plus he's good in school. Plus he does his homework. Plus he pointed out, it's his only outside activity. (Like I said, he's good).
Dinner ran a bit late so we were driving to a 7:00 meeting at 7:30. "That's okay Mom, it's on time for us..." my son offered. Oooff. Ow...must speed up vehicle, defy time stream, eliminate need of son to explain away me.
So we went to the meeting and I filled out the application. The form said check all that apply and I was doing fine checking no...no...no...when it came to camp chaperon, field trip guide, assistant troop leader...until I got to this one:
I will be a supportive active Cub Scout parent.
"Define Active?" I asked.
"It means you'll get him to meetings, encourage his participation, aid in his getting badges, be sure he's properly attired." a veteran scout mother told me.
"How properly?" I wanted to know, vowing to simply send the shirt to the dry cleaner's every week after the meeting.
Thinking about the obligations and being truthful, I hesitated. I don't remember this from the first go around. I'm guessing, they remember last time and are taking steps to make sure my son doesn't have to say, "That's okay...it's you." come time to be awarded badges.
However, proof that change does not occur overnight no matter what the contract says, tonight was also Daisies....I forgot.
And by good, I mean I tracked down a person to sew on the patches the first go around.
When my first daughter expressed no interest, I breathed a sigh of relief.
When my second daughter became a daisy, I mooched off the den mothers mercilessly. Curiously, both families left the school, and with their departure, so ended scouting.
My next son and I declared our mutual indifference.
My next daughter ached to be a daisy but the only way that would happen is if there were a troop master. Was I interested? I admit, I used pregnancy as an excuse. It works for most people. They were annoyed when I tried it.
Now, we have come to the sixth child. He has patiently put up with being put off on this decision for two cub scout years. He's smart. He's done his homework. My next two daughters can do Daisies at the same time on the same day. Three doing an activity for the price of one errand. He knows this is a weakness I have. Plus he's good in school. Plus he does his homework. Plus he pointed out, it's his only outside activity. (Like I said, he's good).
Dinner ran a bit late so we were driving to a 7:00 meeting at 7:30. "That's okay Mom, it's on time for us..." my son offered. Oooff. Ow...must speed up vehicle, defy time stream, eliminate need of son to explain away me.
So we went to the meeting and I filled out the application. The form said check all that apply and I was doing fine checking no...no...no...when it came to camp chaperon, field trip guide, assistant troop leader...until I got to this one:
I will be a supportive active Cub Scout parent.
"Define Active?" I asked.
"It means you'll get him to meetings, encourage his participation, aid in his getting badges, be sure he's properly attired." a veteran scout mother told me.
"How properly?" I wanted to know, vowing to simply send the shirt to the dry cleaner's every week after the meeting.
Thinking about the obligations and being truthful, I hesitated. I don't remember this from the first go around. I'm guessing, they remember last time and are taking steps to make sure my son doesn't have to say, "That's okay...it's you." come time to be awarded badges.
However, proof that change does not occur overnight no matter what the contract says, tonight was also Daisies....I forgot.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Storming the Castle, or at Least, Starting the Commute of Despair
Pass me that miracle pill. The chocolate coating makes it go down easier and I shouldn't go swimming for at least an hour.
We are about to embark on an insane journey that makes the trip to Texas in a 12 passenger van sans air-conditioning and back seem like a walk in the park.
We start school Monday. By 6:35 a.m, the first must be launched. The second must be out the door and at the bus --she can't walk to the bus stop because it is too far, by 7:20. Five must leave by 7:35 to escape being late, and one must be walked down to the bottom of the hill every day by 8:25. Before they leave, they must have been fed, assemble a lunch and be properly attired for their respective school and have all their things. In how many weeks will Mom and Dad simply collapse?
When did my life become a word problem from my fifth grade math book?
The afternoon is just as nutty, with one coming back via metro, one via the school bus --same pick up place as we dropped off, and five needing pick up from their school all at the same time (natch), by one mom with two in tow. This does not factor into the equation late days because of special activities, evening meetings or practices, homework or any of the other things that life normally has within its folds, like folding, dinner, bath time routines, bedtime routines or the most evasive and elusive of all basic needs, sleep. I'd be very happy with the gift of Bi-location, but it would have to include my car.
I keep running over things in my mind and I come back to one thing. I Do Not Know.
That's my answer. How does she do it? Answer: She doesn't know yet. I'm making this up as I go along. Indiana Jones I'm not, but I'd be very happy if my kids could commandeer some perfectly saddled white stallions and run them back to my house every day. Cue trumpet theme song.
Alternatively, if someone would just develop that darn transporter beam, all of Bone's concerns about scattered molecules aside, I'd be game if only to know that I would not become mind melded with the van for the next nine months. In this case, (sorry Indie) it's not the mileage, it's the years that I will be able to count up that I have spent driving, enough to go toe to toe with any cross country 18 wheeler.
So those are my options: High technology, High Fantasy or High Spiritual Grace or slogging it out with the sincere knowledge 1) they are going to be late and 2) you are going to be tired. But I'm game. I've set my alarm for 5:45. We'll see what we can do about doing the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs. I'm hoping I can get them all up at 6:00, have made the lunches by 6:30, take the girls and drop them off at their respective spots and be back by 7:00 o'clock, finish fixing breakfast and load the car for the next launch by 7:30, leaving me to walk the youngest two down the hill so I can get my son on the bus by 8:25. Then I hope a friend will pick up my metro girl and bring her to her old school so I can swoop in and gather 6 before heading back to just near home to get the 7th in short order. It's possible. It's just not easy.
Think it will work?
It would take a miracle.
We are about to embark on an insane journey that makes the trip to Texas in a 12 passenger van sans air-conditioning and back seem like a walk in the park.
We start school Monday. By 6:35 a.m, the first must be launched. The second must be out the door and at the bus --she can't walk to the bus stop because it is too far, by 7:20. Five must leave by 7:35 to escape being late, and one must be walked down to the bottom of the hill every day by 8:25. Before they leave, they must have been fed, assemble a lunch and be properly attired for their respective school and have all their things. In how many weeks will Mom and Dad simply collapse?
When did my life become a word problem from my fifth grade math book?
The afternoon is just as nutty, with one coming back via metro, one via the school bus --same pick up place as we dropped off, and five needing pick up from their school all at the same time (natch), by one mom with two in tow. This does not factor into the equation late days because of special activities, evening meetings or practices, homework or any of the other things that life normally has within its folds, like folding, dinner, bath time routines, bedtime routines or the most evasive and elusive of all basic needs, sleep. I'd be very happy with the gift of Bi-location, but it would have to include my car.
I keep running over things in my mind and I come back to one thing. I Do Not Know.
That's my answer. How does she do it? Answer: She doesn't know yet. I'm making this up as I go along. Indiana Jones I'm not, but I'd be very happy if my kids could commandeer some perfectly saddled white stallions and run them back to my house every day. Cue trumpet theme song.
Alternatively, if someone would just develop that darn transporter beam, all of Bone's concerns about scattered molecules aside, I'd be game if only to know that I would not become mind melded with the van for the next nine months. In this case, (sorry Indie) it's not the mileage, it's the years that I will be able to count up that I have spent driving, enough to go toe to toe with any cross country 18 wheeler.
So those are my options: High technology, High Fantasy or High Spiritual Grace or slogging it out with the sincere knowledge 1) they are going to be late and 2) you are going to be tired. But I'm game. I've set my alarm for 5:45. We'll see what we can do about doing the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs. I'm hoping I can get them all up at 6:00, have made the lunches by 6:30, take the girls and drop them off at their respective spots and be back by 7:00 o'clock, finish fixing breakfast and load the car for the next launch by 7:30, leaving me to walk the youngest two down the hill so I can get my son on the bus by 8:25. Then I hope a friend will pick up my metro girl and bring her to her old school so I can swoop in and gather 6 before heading back to just near home to get the 7th in short order. It's possible. It's just not easy.
Think it will work?
It would take a miracle.
Bye Bye!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Burning Both Ends
It's no secret that this symester, our lives have been hectic. For those unfamiliar, we now have four schools in four different directions that our children go off to in the morning. This is our typical Monday thru Friday routine.
5:50 a.m. Get up.
6:00 a.m. Make sure all but the oldest and youngest children have been roused.
6-6:30 Make 8 lunches and one snack. Husband departs with oldest daughter to drop her off at train.
6:30-7 Make ten breakfasts, change two diapers, get youngest three and self dressed.
7-7:30 Convince all children to eat, finish getting dressed, brush teeth, comb hair, find coats, be shod and get in the car with backpacks and lunch bags. Wake oldest son to come down and feed baby and watch youngest three. Husband returns to get ready for work.
7:30-8:00 Take middle five to school and return.
8:25 Walk youngest son to foot of driveway to wait for bus.
Housework/patrol house/laundry if I'm being virtuous.
Oldest son is dropped off at the bus at 10:45 so he has time to go to the library before his 3:30 classes and take care of any paperwork at school. He will have classes until 8:30pm and have to catch the 9:05 bus back.
Run any out in the world errands.
Youngest son must be picked up at the foot of the driveway at 11:35 am
Lunch, paperwork, any slumming done during the day, plus storytime and writing.
Load car at 2:20 with youngest three to pick up at school and then drive to the metro to pick up oldest girl to then go back home.
Homework. Snack. Solo What did you do today reports and complaint office. Mom I need....list.
6:00 Dinner for all that are home.
7:00-8:45 Baths, dishes, teeth, stories, prayers, clean up .
Meanwhile more homework/bedtime.
Husband leaves work to pick up oldest son from the station, getting both of them back to our house by 10:20.
Second dinner for oldest son and husband.
Dishes/spot conversations about what's going on, what happened and what will go on tomorrow.
12 pm. Baby wakes up for evening diaper change and bottle and to be rocked back to sleep.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
This is neither a cry for help nor a complaint, it is merely fact. Writing it out explained to me (because my brain is too sluggish to figure it out on my own), why when I got up and saw this quote, I thought....Oy.
Quote of the day by Bishop Fulton Sheen: Burning the candle at both ends for God’s sake may be foolishness to the world, but it is a profitable Christian exercise-for so much better the light. Only one thing in life matters. Being found worthy of the Light of the World in the hour of His visitation. We need have no undue fear for our health if we work hard for the kingdom of God; God will take care of our health if we take care of His cause. In any case it is better to burn out than to rust out.
Not rusty. Am hoping for a nap soon.
5:50 a.m. Get up.
6:00 a.m. Make sure all but the oldest and youngest children have been roused.
6-6:30 Make 8 lunches and one snack. Husband departs with oldest daughter to drop her off at train.
6:30-7 Make ten breakfasts, change two diapers, get youngest three and self dressed.
7-7:30 Convince all children to eat, finish getting dressed, brush teeth, comb hair, find coats, be shod and get in the car with backpacks and lunch bags. Wake oldest son to come down and feed baby and watch youngest three. Husband returns to get ready for work.
7:30-8:00 Take middle five to school and return.
8:25 Walk youngest son to foot of driveway to wait for bus.
Housework/patrol house/laundry if I'm being virtuous.
Oldest son is dropped off at the bus at 10:45 so he has time to go to the library before his 3:30 classes and take care of any paperwork at school. He will have classes until 8:30pm and have to catch the 9:05 bus back.
Run any out in the world errands.
Youngest son must be picked up at the foot of the driveway at 11:35 am
Lunch, paperwork, any slumming done during the day, plus storytime and writing.
Load car at 2:20 with youngest three to pick up at school and then drive to the metro to pick up oldest girl to then go back home.
Homework. Snack. Solo What did you do today reports and complaint office. Mom I need....list.
6:00 Dinner for all that are home.
7:00-8:45 Baths, dishes, teeth, stories, prayers, clean up .
Meanwhile more homework/bedtime.
Husband leaves work to pick up oldest son from the station, getting both of them back to our house by 10:20.
Second dinner for oldest son and husband.
Dishes/spot conversations about what's going on, what happened and what will go on tomorrow.
12 pm. Baby wakes up for evening diaper change and bottle and to be rocked back to sleep.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.
This is neither a cry for help nor a complaint, it is merely fact. Writing it out explained to me (because my brain is too sluggish to figure it out on my own), why when I got up and saw this quote, I thought....Oy.
Quote of the day by Bishop Fulton Sheen: Burning the candle at both ends for God’s sake may be foolishness to the world, but it is a profitable Christian exercise-for so much better the light. Only one thing in life matters. Being found worthy of the Light of the World in the hour of His visitation. We need have no undue fear for our health if we work hard for the kingdom of God; God will take care of our health if we take care of His cause. In any case it is better to burn out than to rust out.
Not rusty. Am hoping for a nap soon.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Book Em Friday...or Tuesday, 10 O'Clock
I love and trust my doctor, but I hate specialists.
They love having extra appointments. They love making rules that no children can come, and they love setting hours that prevent leaving kids with my supportive spouse unless he takes the day off.
Yesterday, I finally got a hold of the specialist reception office. They take off from 12 to 2 for lunch and the machine doesn’t take messages and close at 4, except on Monday, when they close at 3. The phones also aren’t answered before 9 am.
When I complained about the inflexibility of times available, the receptionist explained, if I had called last week, I could have found better times. I called last week. No one answered the phone, even though it was during business hours.
“What day was that?”
“Thursday.”
“That was our staff meeting day. We turn off the phones so as to not be interrupted.”
“…Okay, well, now when can I come in?”
“2:45 Tuesday.”
“That’s when school is out and I pick up my kids…”
“What time is good then?
“I can come on Monday, Wednesday or Friday between 10 and 12:30.”
“We have an opening at four on Thursday.”
“The times I gave where when I would only have to find a sitter for my infant. If I come at 4 on a Thursday, I would have to bring all seven younger children.”
I think she thought I was kidding because she then offered 3 o’clock on Tuesday and then five on Monday. I kept bringing up the problem of child supervision and she finally sighed and offered up noon on Thursday.
I’d have to bring three kids. Hardly ideal, but I took it.
“What is this test for anyway?”
“Stress.”
…
“Hello?”
“I’m stressed.”
“Pardon me?”
“Your schedule for my appointment. It’s stressing me out.”
“This isn’t about your stress levels.” She explained.
“Apparently.”
“This is about the stress experienced by the baby.” She soothed.
“But if Mom is stressed, you can bet baby is stressed.” I argued.
“You can book the next four appointments.” She wasn't moving.
And lucky me got 10:15 Thursday, a 2:00 Wednesday and a lovely 3:30 on a Friday. I’d be schlepping three to seven for each of these examinations…I hoped the little guy had low blood pressure because this would be scads of fun.
Looking at a blocky ugly crowded three weeks, I dutifully penciled the schedule into my calendar.
“You’re in luck.” The receptionist said, “For the fourth appointment, I can manage an 11:30 on a Wednesday.”
My need to win got the better of me and I refused to book the final appointment—“He’s due that week so I don’t think I’ll need one.”
“You could always cancel.”
“No. I don’t want to even have it on the schedule.”
“I think you’re being rather childish.”
“No, it’s just that I’m having a company meeting that week and won’t be able to take calls.” I hung up and sighed contently at the aparently unscheduled week.
I probably just earned a few years on hold in purgatory but I haven’t yet decided to be penitent.
P.S. If you're stuck on hold or stuck with a customer like me on the line, you could use a laugh so try Humor-Blogs.com!
They love having extra appointments. They love making rules that no children can come, and they love setting hours that prevent leaving kids with my supportive spouse unless he takes the day off.
Yesterday, I finally got a hold of the specialist reception office. They take off from 12 to 2 for lunch and the machine doesn’t take messages and close at 4, except on Monday, when they close at 3. The phones also aren’t answered before 9 am.
When I complained about the inflexibility of times available, the receptionist explained, if I had called last week, I could have found better times. I called last week. No one answered the phone, even though it was during business hours.
“What day was that?”
“Thursday.”
“That was our staff meeting day. We turn off the phones so as to not be interrupted.”
“…Okay, well, now when can I come in?”
“2:45 Tuesday.”
“That’s when school is out and I pick up my kids…”
“What time is good then?
“I can come on Monday, Wednesday or Friday between 10 and 12:30.”
“We have an opening at four on Thursday.”
“The times I gave where when I would only have to find a sitter for my infant. If I come at 4 on a Thursday, I would have to bring all seven younger children.”
I think she thought I was kidding because she then offered 3 o’clock on Tuesday and then five on Monday. I kept bringing up the problem of child supervision and she finally sighed and offered up noon on Thursday.
I’d have to bring three kids. Hardly ideal, but I took it.
“What is this test for anyway?”
“Stress.”
…
“Hello?”
“I’m stressed.”
“Pardon me?”
“Your schedule for my appointment. It’s stressing me out.”
“This isn’t about your stress levels.” She explained.
“Apparently.”
“This is about the stress experienced by the baby.” She soothed.
“But if Mom is stressed, you can bet baby is stressed.” I argued.
“You can book the next four appointments.” She wasn't moving.
And lucky me got 10:15 Thursday, a 2:00 Wednesday and a lovely 3:30 on a Friday. I’d be schlepping three to seven for each of these examinations…I hoped the little guy had low blood pressure because this would be scads of fun.
Looking at a blocky ugly crowded three weeks, I dutifully penciled the schedule into my calendar.
“You’re in luck.” The receptionist said, “For the fourth appointment, I can manage an 11:30 on a Wednesday.”
My need to win got the better of me and I refused to book the final appointment—“He’s due that week so I don’t think I’ll need one.”
“You could always cancel.”
“No. I don’t want to even have it on the schedule.”
“I think you’re being rather childish.”
“No, it’s just that I’m having a company meeting that week and won’t be able to take calls.” I hung up and sighed contently at the aparently unscheduled week.
I probably just earned a few years on hold in purgatory but I haven’t yet decided to be penitent.
P.S. If you're stuck on hold or stuck with a customer like me on the line, you could use a laugh so try Humor-Blogs.com!
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