One of those days

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It was one of those days.

One of those days that starts off all wrong.  

In the midst of a very disturbing dream, I was woken up by the phone.  

I immediately felt an upcoming headache. 

A little woozy and still trying to shake off my weird dream, 

I realized that I slept through my alarm clock.

All I wanted to do, was ignore the time and go back to sleep.

I should have done that.

I should have just acted, as if someone had told me that Tuesday was canceled

 and that would have been the end of this story.

Of course I did not do that.

The following hour, I battled with uncooperative, tired, whiny kids 

and the urge to just completely give up on Tuesday. 

My youngest was skipping through the house with a head full of plans, 

yet none of those plans included cooperating and getting dressed for preschool.

My mood shifted between desperation, determination and anger. 

But I was going to do this.

 I was going to handle this like an adult.

And I did. I switched to my emergency plan. 

Basically that means do whatever you have to do, 

and ignore everything you might be feeling.  

It worked, I let my 3 year old frolic about while I focused on the other two. 

I got them to get dressed and make their beds etc.

When I came downstairs the floor was full of googly eyes.

 The kind of googly eyes that you use for crafting. 

Not that there is another kind of googly eyes.

 I took a deep breath and my oldest volunteered to pick them up. 

He must have seen steam coming from my ears. 

His sister helped and together they gathered all the eyes and put them back in the box. 

With just ten minutes on the clock,

 I got my 3 year old dressed; brushed her teeth; combed her hair; put my socks on, 

made the others put on their coats and threw on my sweater. 

I looked at the clock, 

we were going to make it.

Then,

I don’t even remember what I getting.

My son was already in the car; my daughter was grabbing her shawl and heading out; 

I had my car keys in my hands and my youngest was in front of me.

 I slipped.

In that moment, that quick slow motion moment, 

were stuff goes through your mind and you try to grab unto something, anything,

I knew this was going to be a bad fall.

“Can you move your arm like this,” the doctor said.

“No, that hurts.”

“ How did you fall?” he asked.

“I fell over a box of googly eyes.”

(I have a crack in my bone and my arm is in a sling. My right arm..)