Just one of those days...

Today is going to be one of those marathon days for a large family. We have four dental appointments today, requiring multiple trips to Blacksburg, which is 30 minutes away from our home. Granted, I'd rather get it all over with in one day and have it done for the next six to twelve months, but it still requires lots of preparation and coordination. With four children and regular OB visits, we make frequent trips to the doctor, so I'm in familiar territory here. I'm armed with snacks, activities, games, diapers and changes of clothes. Keller has some Hidden Picture books that we're going to bring along too, and I asked him to collect some viable markers for his bag. (The way we go through them, you never know if you've got a good one or not, and you DEFINITELY don't want to end up at your intended destination with dried-out markers!). He picks one up that he found on the playroom floor (what is THAT doing in there instead of the craft drawer? Don't even want to know right now.) I instruct him, "Test it and make sure it's a good one before you put it in your bag." He whips out his arm and prepares to go to town. "Seriously, Keller?! Do NOT write on your pajamas!" He looks at me...and pushes up his sleeve. Seriously?

So, I finish prepping the bags, supervise everyone getting dressed and make my daughter's hair presentable (or at least out of her face and less likely to attract food and other sticky, gooey substances.) We are surprisingly ahead of schedule, and I announce to the kids, "Mommy just has to go to the bathroom, and then we'll be ready to go!" Before the entire sentence is out of my mouth, my youngest walks by, and I can tell with one whiff that our cushion is blown. It's amazing how quickly a five minute advantage turns into a deficit when...Poop happens. Obviously, this new development takes precedence and, as we are now automatically running late, I am having an internal debate over the necessity of my going to the bathroom or not. I'm an adult, right? I can make it to the dentist, get my paperwork completed, and work it in after we've arrived on time. My pregnant self argues back, quite convincingly, that you really shouldn't count on the reliability of a pregnant woman's bladder. It's a 30 minute drive, conservatively, and who knows when baby girl will decide to practice a few hooks and jabs?! So, I head to the bathroom and resign myself to being in a rush (doesn't it always happen? It's almost inevitable really...each child is a force of nature unto themselves, and they take turns wreaking havoc on even the most well-planned time tables!) THEN I remember that I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, and I'm pretty sure the hygienist would appreciate that small effort on my part. We finally make it out the door, armful of bags and clothed, freshly-diapered children intact, and I notice that I'm still wearing the clothes I slept in the night before. I shut the door and don't look back. It's just one of those days...