Two weeks ago I completely forgot an appointment for Lizzy's teeth to be x-rayed. Yesterday I cancelled the same (rescheduled) appointment, after realising I was going to arrive 10 minutes late. Today I arrived at the same (re-rescheduled appointment) 10 minutes late (again!), only to be told that I had failed to bring the essential yellow slip of paper which would allow said x-ray to take place. The appointment has been re-re-rescheduled for next Monday: I will keep you posted on that (maybe someone could text me?)
I engaged in some creative road rage yesterday on the way to the x-ray centre, when a taxi held me up on the right turn out of school, an episode which involved thumping on the steering wheel, slapping the door loudly (I've heard that hurries slow drivers up), and muttering under my breath ("stupid taxi driver...no, can't say that...God doesn't want me to say that..."), leading to the following conversation:
Lizzy (9) - "Mummy, why are you grumpy with me? I hate it when you're grumpy."
Jean (38) - "I'm not grumpy with you, darling, I'm just worried about being late."
Thomas (4) - "Who are you grumpy with, Mummy?"
Which led to some existential musings on my part: "Who exactly am I grumpy with?...myself for failing to get the kids out of class early?...the rain for slowing down our trip out of school?...the taxi driver who isn't watching the road?...God?...well, yes, probably God for allowing this (admittedly minor) suffering...can't say that to a 4 year old...I hope he doesn't notice I haven't answered his question..."
He didn't.
1 comment:
I like your blog Jean! Good to see that someone else gets 'in a tizz'. Thanks for the advice to slap the window - I'll try it tomorrow morning!
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