Chaos is the norm, I guess
I got home late that night after getting our monthly magazine off to the printer. It was a crazy whirlwind of a day in which I worked around the clock except for the hour and half I had to dart from Saratoga to Ballston Spa for my children's spring concert and back to work to finish up.
As I sank into bed, i was startled with the thought that my son's fifth-grade field trip to the Wild Center was the next morning, and we were responsible for getting him to school in the morning -- early. I made a mental note and drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to my son shaking me and reminding of his field trip. It was 6:30 a.m. "What time do you have to be there?" I asked.
"At 7:30," he said.
I told him I'd get up in a few minutes, and I did. Bleary-eyed, I started getting his lunch together and grabbed the info sheet about the field trip off the fridge to see if needed anything specific. The words jumped off the page at me: "THE BUS LEAVES AT 7 A.M. PLEASE BE PROMPT."
I glanced at the clock -- 6:45 a.m. (We live about 10 minutes from school.)
Of course, a whole bunch of yelling and racing around ensued, with me packing his lunch and backpack in record time. He and my husband were backing out of the driveway just a bit past 6:50.
They made the bus no problem, but I believe it may have taken a chunk of time off my life, or at least given me a few new gray hairs.