One Morning in January...

Getting my 4 children out the door this morning can best be summed up by the term "Shock and Awe".
It began with it's very own prophetic foreshadowing: every single light switch I turned on shocked me.
Miss Head in the Clouds fractured her left index finger from her incorrect catch at basketball practice yesterday afternoon. I am so sure she'll know how to do it for next year. Well, that was when the ball started rolling, around 4:00 yesterday. I got to drive in rush hour traffic up to school to pick her up and whisk her to the 6:45 pediatrician appointment I was lucky to get. Then, of course, the good doctor sent us to the Breast Building (they X ray everything there but that is what I call it). We squeezed into the last X ray of the day at 7:00 pm. Later, the doctor called and confirmed it as fracture at the joint and advised me to call the hand surgeon in the morning.
So here it is already today, and I am to try to get her an appointment with the famous finest hand surgeon, DR. Who shall not be named, sometime after I take my three hour curriculum certification exam this morning. When she awoke in pain at 5 she proceeded to wake me (misery does love company, don't let anyone tell you otherwise) for a dose of Tylenol (forgot to buy the Motrin) and a marvelous round of moaning and refusing to be touched in my bed. I finally was able to extract her from my warm cozy when I explained to that stomach pain is sometimes due to lack of food and she could go eat cereal. She was overjoyed and left my bed. Too late, though because by then the alarm was already going off. Earlier in bed, since she is quite self sufficient gal and a self soother it should really not have come as a surprise to me when she did, at one point, cease moaning to ask when she could have ice cream. I informed that few stores selling such a product were actually opened at 5:05 AM but I would try to see to it later. A order for mint chocolate chip was instantly placed.
Of course, she above did not bother to wake (the Boss) number 2, at the usual time, even though the Boss wakes her every morning ...possibly in consideration for all those who will have hell to pay if our dreamer does not wake up in enough time to hurl herself out the door to catch the bus. Thereby rendering a miserable morning for the entire "apartment-hold".
Miss H.I.T.C, now known as the disabled, needed a mitten to cover the hand with the splint(the sole mitten the left since this year's crop only produced gloves). She even said to me it was ok because she could wear a glove on the other hand--like she would even have a choice? And then she promptly did,in fact, fortified by the power of her eaten omelet and bagel hurl herself out the door, bus-ward.
Child #4, Angel baby, did not want out of her lair in the bottom bunk, but finally was forced as nature called. However, once removed from bed she was beyond incredulous that I would even dare to suggest she had the skill set and capacity to make egg salad solo.
Then the Boss was 'awailing that she could not walk to the bus. She flat out refused, and her brother departed. Boy-man (like any good dog, sniffed which way the winds were blowing) accepted his omelet gracefully ate it and even put the dish in the dishwasher, reattached his BOZE headphones and headed out the door in plenty of time to make the bus. She continued to refuse, whine, wheedle and wail until I had to drive her rather than incur my own threatened punishment of leaving her to stay home all day. The latter being an option I could not live with. Remember Rule # 16: Never threaten if you, yourself, cannot live with the consequences.
There I was 6:59 'achopping and 'amixing the aforementioned hard boiled egg salad but I left the slathering on the bagel part for Angel Baby as I reluctantly but lividly chauffeured the Boss. As I drove incensed (not for once, reflected in my driving) I summarily informed her that since she was kind enough to wait, WWW (whine, wheedle, and wail for those of you unfamiliar to parenting prose) and to remake the morning coffee (she should not even be drinking at 14) there would be no future rides to the morning shuttle.
I returned home to hustle Number 4 out the door and then once Angel Baby was safely aboard the bus I dragged myself up stairs to to regroup and get ready to take the certification exam.
Hamilton has recently acquired a greater understanding of English. This morning, I said "You guys got to give me break" no less than 7 times. And upon my return the cat actually sat on my lap for extended petting and purring during an unprecedented quarter of an hour. Totally out of character for the normally fickle feline that she is.
In the interest of length, I wanted to leave out the part where this morning the famous fabulous hand surgeon's receptionist told me they don't take our insurance but how could I? I politely explain that despite that I need to make an appointment anyway. Then the she explained that she would have to call the insurance prior to booking the appointment. By then, I had pulled into the parking garage at the testing center. I asked her to call me back. I then turned the phone to mute and slowly approached the third floor testing office. Once there, I removed my watch (as if it could truly help me on the curriculum exam, it can barely tell time). I placed it in a locker with all my other worldly possessions. Taking this exam was like a vow of poverty for three hours. I won't mention that tech services had to be called because the test would not load on the computer I am almost at the point if you haven't stopped reading you won't believe me.

Good thing, I had that morning shower.
Today's math equation: Shower = power.