♫ I Want Candy♫

While the above rings true for pretty much all situations, 24/7 365, yesterday I was ready for a wheelbarrow of the stuff.  Yesterday started out like any other stress-filled day of chaos and disorganization.  My 6 year old, home with a cold and nasty sounding cough was home asking me every 4-12 seconds if it was time to leave for her doctor's appointment.  Thankfully, she waited until 5:45 AM to begin the questioning, so at least I didn't have to hear it that much.   Oy.

My son headed off to school at the usual and ungodly time of 6:18 AM.  Whoever thought of sending teens to school before sunrise and letting small children who get up at 4AM start school after 9?  End of side note.  Anyway, we settled into a normalesque (my new made up word for the day) routine.  I managed to take a shower and started getting ready and put a movie on for the little one, who was curled up on the couch hacking every few seconds.  Then...the phone rang.

It was A's school, calling to tell me he was in the nurse's office saying he had a headache and blurred vision.  I launched into analyze mode and tried to figure out what A's motive was.  First off, his younger sister was home, on the couch, eating all the Cheez-Its that should be his and watching cool movies, while he labored in the slave-like environment at school.  So, at first, I questioned it and told her to keep an eye on him and call me back.  Well, she called back.  He now claimed that his vision was very blurry, the headache extreme and he was dizzy.  I'm always slightly paranoid about the meds I give him, but they are very necessary to keep him on some kind of manageable level (It's a love-hate relationship with those wretched meds believe me).  So, it's 11 AM.  S's appointment is at 1:30.  I figure out there is no other way than picking up the husband and bringing him home to help out.  I hate, hate, hate, hate doing that.  We are tight enough money wise, but every minute he's not there, no pay.  Oh well, nothing I could do.

I call the office at work and they get him.  He makes plans to leave.  I go and pick him up right away.  I drop him off with S and head downtown to get A.  Traffic is horrible and we get to the train as the gates come down (naturally).  I pull up in front of the house, deposit A in the house and put S in the truck.  I steal A's lunch and eat crackers and a drink pouch (those things  are very difficult to put the straw in and drink while driving, especially without squeezing them hard enough to squirt the juice at you.  Who invented those horrible things? lol).  Diabetic coma averted, I get S to the doctor.  $136 later, she has a cold.  I could have stocked up on cold supplies for a year AND gotten a pretty decent crab cake dinner out of that, but hey, I can dream can't I?  So, I rush home and A is fine.  FINE.  Not one symptom and now he wants to go out and play with his friends.  Um, NO?  So, all four of us are now trapped in the house, me staring at A waiting for some sort of brain thing to start again, S feeling "fine" and running around all over, poking A and the two of them singing about butts all afternoon.  Nice.

The moral of this story?  Stress is not good for you.  I think on the way home from the doctor's appointment with S, I actually thought about stopping at a liquor store, getting a bottle of wine and coming home to drink straight from the bottle.  That or at least see if I have any anxiety pills left from the last crisis.  I manage stress horribly and I need to find a better way.