I should not be writing. I have way too much to do. But I NEED to write. So the rest will just have to wait.
Last night Taylor woke me up at 1:45am. “Mommy, my belly hurts.”
“Okay,” I said. “Climb in.”
An hour later, Taylor’s identical twin sister Sydney nudged me awake. “Mommy, I woke up because I knew Taylor was gone. Is she okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. Go back to bed,” I grumbled.
Sydney didn’t budge. She was hesitant to speak, but clear that she was going nowhere without her sister. I sighed with tired defeat.
“Get in,” I succumbed. There was no use fighting Twin Mode. It’s a battle that can not be won. Especially at 3 in the morning.
Another hour later, I left my overcrowded bed and moved to the couch. There I slept like shit while Craig, Sydney and Taylor slumbered peacefully.
I awoke at 6:15 – to a dog that needed to be rushed to the Emergency Vet because she was choking and having difficulty breathing. Also, Taylor’s belly still hurt, and she would be staying home from school. Again.
$350 later, I left the vet with two prescriptions to treat either kennel cough or pneumonia.
I came home and went to the fridge. I was hungry. I noticed something wet on the floor. It was brown. I opened the fridge to find the bottle of Worcestershire sauce on its side without a lid, and its contents spilled everywhere. I wanted to cry. Craig could tell, so he offered to help clean it up.
I sat down at the table where Taylor was eating her breakfast. Apparently her belly was feeling better. Which meant a forty minute round trip to and from the school was now in my near future. I took a deep breath. Then I heard a thunk.
“What was that?” Craig asked. “It’s the second time I’ve heard it.”
“I think there’s a bird in the house,” Taylor said with her mouth full. “I swear I saw one earlier.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, nonchalantly. Birds love our house. Unfortunately, this was not anything out of the ordinary.
Craig walked upstairs to verify the truth Taylor told. We trapped the bird in Sydney’s room and let it fly out the open window.
Another deep breath.
“Okay, T. Let’s go to school,” I told her.
Halfway there, I glanced at my gas tank. My eyes grew wide with surprise when I noticed the needle was not only on E, but almost on the wrong side of E. I looked at the passenger seat to find my purse. It was not there. I had taken it in the house with Bella’s medication.
“Great,” I muttered.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?” Taylor asked.
“I have no gas and no money,” I told her.
“Uh-oh,” she said.
“Yeah. Uh-oh,” I agreed.
I dropped her off at school and then scoured my van. I found one single dollar bill. That’s it. The kids had wiped my change compartment clean for the last “donate” day at school.
So I went to the gas station and handed the clerk my one single dollar bill, gassed up all 8 seconds worth, and then prayed to make it home.
Thankfully, I did. Now I pray I make it back to the gas station. Even as I say it, I feel like it’s asking a lot.
So, I’m writing. Writing with the hope that if I get it out, my luck will turn around. And if it doesn’t? Well, then I guess I’ll have more to write about later.
So at least there’s that.