A Sketch

Last night I arrived too late for my small group meeting. Crushed, I returned home and turned in early. Sir Sleeps A Lot beat the alarm clock in waking me and finished nursing by 5am. Grand visions of arriving early for a third day in a row dance in my head. Last night’s green peas kept an all night vigil on the stove. They chose not to protect the paper towels, and pixies swiped the last one. To the laundry room for backup! No paper towels? I slowly remember believing it would be a good idea to leave the replacement twelve-pack in the back of the car saving space in our wrecked laundry room. Our car lives in our driveway where the temperature has not reached thirty. A convenient amnesia sets in, and I abandon kitchen cleaning to run my darks through the wash. No worries, timeliness remains within my grasp.
A sour smell escapes as I open the washer’s lid. Going to be early last night was a good idea, right? But wait, my knight in shining armor (formerly known as Prince Procrastinator) enters bearing oatmeal and juice for the overwhelmed and the sleepy. He irons the kids’ clothes while I survey my closet for “plan b” attire. I climb out of the shower to find all four dressed. Valiantly, he volunteers to drop me at work before unloading the kids at daycare.
An equatorial international student, who arrived last week to an apartment fabulously furnished by our volunteers, pleas for reassignment to a closer one requiring a shorter walk in the cold. A PhD student assures me PP will have a breakthrough on Hebrew and will survive the J-term intensive. I talk about the weather with students from the faraway lands of Japan, Korea, and Oklahoma while application fees post. Cash drawer balanced, I head to the parking lot for our mad dash to church.
The church dining hall smells of tomato sauce and cookies. Princess Ela and Prince Boots eat both, but nothing else. PP and I shovel our food in between taking turns holding Sir Sleeps A Lot who, awake, bankrupts us by flashing million dollar smiles to all.
We proceed to beeline our way through the children’s wing to the nursery. Wondering about the empty toddler room, a small white slip of paper catches my eye. The note on the door warns that “A” spread Scarlett Fever. Antibiotics will cure with minimal discomfort and schedule interruption, the note reads. My mind interprets, Little Women! Suddenly my irritation with PB’s fussiness today transforms to panic. Scarlett Fever rather than 15 degree winds caused his flushed cheeks, I am certain! PE’s whiny insistence on a second snack comes not from hunger but Scarlett Fever.
Home again, snacks, story-time, and the kids scurry off to sleep. PB says, “Night, Night Mommy” – a rare complete phrase and calmness again finds me. At least until I see the laundry pile!