TheMommyBlog

Wednesday, January 14, 2004 Family

It’s been a while since I’ve had such trouble deciding Who Got Ripped Off for the Day in our family. It’s usually pretty clear that being at home or being at work was the suckier option, but today we have a draw!

Home: hacking baby keeps both of us awake most of the night; wakeful fretting about inbox keeps me awake for the rest.

Work: Inbox lurking, just as I suspected.

Home: all three children still in various states of undress and anarchy 5-7 minutes before they should all be in the car to make it to school before the bell. Watch closely and see Mommy slipping stealthily out the front door, carrying her shoes.

Work: budget meeting at 9 sharp, where it becomes painfully obvious that the only one watching the actuals in the organizational database all last year was Yours Truly. Everyone else in the organization utilized crucial system of rumor, barter, and hallway deal making, which quite surprisingly yields a different set of figures than the ones I’m presenting. Hmmmmm. Must get to the bottom of that.

Home: discovery of strange, rapidly-spreading rash on eldest child’s body necessitates urgent care appointment, to be squeezed in between school drop-off & pickup, naps, and potential job interview.

Work: thrice-rescheduled catch-up lunch with old friend turns into two-hour, gut-wrenching weepathon which completely drains self of all stamina and will to hold self upright. Once in car, realize that am ten minutes late for crucial policy rollout meeting, and have makeup smeared underneath eyes.

Home: slip into office for short phone call-slash-job interview, during which time baby manages to poop on ivory shag rug, and 3-year-old manages to track own poop through house and onto beige twill sofa.

Work: first day of financial activity for year heralds record numbers of checks to be run and wires to be initiated. Checks skip a number in printer; error only discovered after checks sent off to be signed. Am now two hours post arbitrary-slash-meaningless deadline for wire initiation; am typing this post instead.

Home: diagnosis of aggressive form of highly contagious impetigo rash, accompanied by prescription for nuclear-strength antibiotics and ancillary diagnosis of “the crud” for baby (“It’s going round—get her some cough syrup.”).

Work: “Mindy, it’s January 14. Where the hell are the new budget figures?” “They’re in Never Never Land, getting a final dusting of pixie magic. I’ll have something for you tomorrow noon, latest.”

Home: “Mindy, you coming home anytime soon? I’d like to go out and try to get myself run over by a Mack truck before rush hour ends. Otherwise, I’ll schlep everyone to the pharmacy for prescriptions. [pause…crickets chirping…] Right. Schlep it is.”

Work: spill entire bottle of water all over desk, keyboard, and floor. Use seventy-four Kleenexes to wipe it up. Decide that coffee would improve concentration and motor skills. Spill coffee all over remaining papers and telephone.

Home: “I think I’m coming down with whatever Daphne had going on last night. My head hurts and my throat is a little sore.”

Work: “I think I’m coming down with whatever Daphne had going on last night. My head hurts and my throat is a little sore.”

Home: [despair at sight of three thousand, four hundred eighty-six toys strewn across living room and hallways]

Work: [sound of spinal matter leaking from vertebrae and of body slumping to the floor]

Home: [sound of bottle uncorking]