Mornings have a certain flow.  Roll out of bed, grab a quick shower, throw on the clothes that (if I was smart) I laid out the night before.  If I’m really lucky I’ll manage to get through all of this without hearing that knock and plaintive, “Mom?” at the door.

A girl can dream.

But when one part goes awry, well…that’s when the train really goes off the rails.


Mom, I think T-man’s really sick, he’s laying on the couch and he can’t stop coughing.

I’d been keeping an eye on his cough, walking that fine line between unnecessary doctor’s visits and when it’s time to stop waiting it out.

Check the family room to find a boy who looks like death on a cracker and the morning implodes.  My brain kicks into overdrive.

Mom, do I have to go to school?

Nope, bud, but you’ve got to give me a few minutes to get things in order.

Okay, that’s it, we’re gonna have to make this work.  It’s go time.

Throw on some clothes, get Bear off to school, then call the doctor’s office.  And call.  And call.  Because it’s always busy the first five times I dial.

Finally reach a receptionist and learn they only have morning appointments open today, which isn’t ideal but he’s got to go so schedule it.

A morning appointment means I have to cancel my 10:00 meeting, because I can’t be in two places at once, but T-man’s gotta get to that doctor so I’d better call.

Call ###-#### to cancel my meeting only to reach an extremely confused woman because I don’t have a meeting on her books.  Which makes me panic, because the boy is sick and we’ve got to go but I’ve got this meeting to cancel, so now I start babbling on to the receptionist about what’s happening in my home and how my morning has gone straight to hell and how I can’t fix it because apparently I can’t even get the phone number right!

Which is how I know this woman understands mama panic because she talked me down off the ledge and helped me figure out what I needed to do.

Solidarity, sister.  The struggle is real.