Next to my phone I’ve laid business cards for the electrician, gas company, AAA, plumber, emergency veterinarian clinic, pediatrician, and Smith’s garage door. I’ve alerted the area Bus Stop Mommies to be on call, put fresh batteries in the flashlights and charged my cell phone. My husband leaves tomorrow for a six-day business trip.
Five trips ago, the dog ran away, we lost three trees in an ice storm, the power went out, the furnace broke, the kids had four snow days in a row, and my daughter got strep throat.
Four trips ago the garage door broke, my son had a sinus infection and missed three days of school, the car got a flat tire, and the dog ran away.
Three trips ago, the dog ran away, we had an ice storm, and my daughter got strep throat followed by scarlet fever — over the weekend, when the doctor’s office is closed.
Two trips ago, I received a mailgram from my credit union, notifying me of a security breach at a retailer. Our VISA was temporarily cancelled. A new one would be issued within a week. My washer immediately up and died, flooding half my kitchen in the process.
Two hours later and ten minutes behind schedule, I left for school. The automatic garage door wouldn’t shut. The garage door guy promised he’d be there first thing in the morning.
My husband called my cell phone, “I’ve dialed the house number all day and got a busy signal.”
“The phone was on the hook.”
“You better call the phone company. Oh, by the way, I lost my driver’s license. Could you call the credit union and have them hold all our checks?”
The phone company man arrived and informed me our problem was in the interior wiring, the only thing not covered in our service contract.
One trip ago, the dishwasher leaked under the kitchen counter and soaked the new family room carpet. The broken part was the only thing not covered under the extended warranty. The service man said for fifty dollars more than new parts and labor, we could buy a new and better dishwasher.
I reviewed our finances, cancelled our YMCA membership, turned off the AC, stocked up on mac and cheese, and went dishwasher shopping. After reactivating my Sears charge card I hadn’t used since the ’80s, the nice man loaded the dishwasher in the back of my minivan. My daughter greeted me at the bus stop, “Mom, my throat still hurts. I don’t even want to go to horseback riding.”
I scrounged for batteries, looked at her throat and called the doctor. This morning there had been one lone blister. It was now in very good company. Dr. Harrison agreed to meet me after hours, so I let the plumber in the door, handed him a blank check and headed for the doctor’s office.
The doctor assured me he’d coordinate my daughter’s tonsillectomy with my husband’s travel schedule.
Karen Rinehart is a newspaper humor columnist, public speaker, and the creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. She is also author of Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life. You can read more of her work at karenrinehart.net. Karen lives in Concord, North Carolina with her two kids, one husband and goofball dog, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dog at home.) She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan and England.
