Dried Up, Spent, and Empty

We start our day too early and with too much to do, when granola bars pass as breakfast and pajamas make acceptable around-town attire. My kids and I drive to the doctor’s office for a nine o’clock appointment, and while I’m congratulating myself for actually remembering to schedule my daughter’s wellness check this year (unlike last), the secretary tells me after we arrive that our insurance won’t pay for the visit.

The trip’s not a total bust, though. At least we all get our flu shots. Band-Aids and tears for everyone!

From there, we head to horseback riding lessons, a twenty-minute drive across the river. My daughters tack their horses while my three-year-old son watches Alvin and the Chipmunks and nurses his vaccine wound with a Dum-Dum. This gives me enough time, I think, to plan the girls’ school assignments, but I keep getting interrupted by urgent text messages from my husband, alerting me that the Sears repairman, who’s supposed to fix our broken oven, will be arriving ANY MINUTE.

I wait in the driver’s seat, spinning my proverbial wheels, until the girls finally tumble out of the horse arena, dusty and dirty, an hour later — just in time for me to discover that my mini-van won’t start.

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