In need of a time turner

I was talking about my Olympic knitting project (body finished, hope to finish sleeve #1 today) with my friend Kathleen, and she said, "for you it isn't really a skill challenge as much as it is a challenge finding the time to get it finished."

She pegged it, she really did. We ended up staying home all week last week; I floated the idea of a trip into the Museum of Science past the kids (the Harry Potter exhibit sounds wonderful, and I thought we'd drop by B's office and say hi) but first they wanted to get caught up on their loafing around, then it snowed, then they made plans with friends and by Friday it was clear that I was the only one up for the trip, and I didn't really feel like wrestling them all downtown if they really didn't want to go. I was still dithering (should we? yes, it will be exhausting, but also Enriching!) when B called to say that it was turning out to be a busy day and it would be best if we didn't visit. So we stayed home, and I'm glad we did, because if we'd been on a field trip all day it is unlikely that in the course of finding something to do my oldest child would have spent a good 30 minutes trying to explain the concept of a Rubic's cube to his baby sister.


I love the small moments of grace between my children.

You'd think that NOT going to the museum would have translated into more time to knit, but it didn't, not really. Yes, I got a few rows in while WB napped, but having everyone in and around the house all day (or needing rides hither, thither and yon) made for more during-the-day chores than usual, and as it happened, Friday was the day I could tolerate the Level Three disaster area behind my couch (a.k.a. "Where Toys Go To Die") no longer and spent four hours cleaning, sorting and purging. ("Is it just me," Eldest asked when I was done, "or are there fewer toys back here than there were this morning?" "It's JUST YOU," I hissed at him as Young'un's spun his head in our direction like an owl spotting his prey.)

So I figured that yesterday was the day I would get caught up. On Mondays I have an hour and a half to myself while WB is at her Early Intervention playgroup. I usually use that time for errands, but this week it was going to be all about the knitting. I was going to finish the first sleeve and get started on the second, do the steeking on Wednesday, and still be on track to have the sweater finished by Saturday. I even thought I might finish early, but didn't say it out loud to anyone, barely let the thought take hold in my brain, honest ... just let it waft on through, like so much dandelion fluff. But deep down, I knew that this year I was going to make it.

Except.

I also scheduled my annual exam for yesterday morning. The timing was tight, but the receptionist at my doctor's office assured me that I was his first appointment of the day. I calculated how long the appointment should take, how many miles I had to drive between the hospital and playgroup, and figured that it should JUST be o.k. After all, OB/GYNs never have anything just pop on their schedules unexpectedly, do they?!?

That sound you hear is the Fates laughing.

I do have to give them points for creativity. The easy way to foil my best-laid plans would have been to cause some woman to be ready to deliver her baby shortly after my appointment was supposed to start, but that would have allowed for my doctor's receptionist to tell me what was going to on and reschedule me in plenty of time for me to get WB to playgroup. No, instead I was MESSED WITH. WB and I had an easy morning, got packed up and out the door in plenty of time (she insisted on bringing her own "purse", carefully stocked with necessities):


one never knows when some potato parts or a peacock will come in handy

avoided traffic on the way there, and made it to the office with one minute to spare, thanks to the kindness of the maintenance man, who took pity on those of us waiting in the lobby and gave us a ride on his otherwise out-of-commission elevator.

My doc was running a bit behind, but the appointment went smoothly, and WB and I were on target to be no more than 10 minutes late for playgroup when I went to get her bundled back into the stroller and realized that her coat -- which I was CERTAIN she'd been wearing when we entered the hospital -- was missing. Not in the doctor's waiting room, not in the exam room, not in the hall or near the elevator ... just gone.

This kicked off a 40 minute search of the building with the assistance of the concierge and all of the people she roped into helping us. (Yes, the hospital has a concierge. AND a valet. I was surprised, too.) I was tremendously frustrated, because I really LIKE this coat -- I bought it (with the snow pants) for $20 on eBay, it's cute, and I have no interest in buying anyone any more winter clothes for this year, but when all that searching proved fruitless I left my cell phone number with the concierge (who shone like a summer sun during this whole ordeal, even when WB expressed her thanks for the stuffed doggie she gave her by literally tossing it back into her face) and headed home. We were just pulling out of the parking garage when my phone rang. It was our the concierge, calling to tell me that the coat had been found in the out-of-commission elevator. So I pulled around the building and into the circle at the main entrance where our new best friend was waiting for us. "Thank you so much ... I could just HUG you!" I exclaimed as she handed me the coat. "Oh, you don't have to do THAT," she said, her bright smile tightening just the teeniest little bit. "It was my pleasure."

Needless to say, we missed playgroup. And then I decided that as long as we weren't going to playgroup that I might as well make that Costco run I've been putting off. After all was said and done, WB and I didn't get back until just an hour before the big kids got home from school and the afternoon exploded into its usual barely controlled chaos and I didn't sit down again for several hours.

Anyone want to guess how much of the sleeve I got finished after the smalls were tucked into bed last night? Or how many rows I had to rip back this morning after I picked the sleeve up again and realized that I'd flipped the background and contrast colors?

As an Olympian, I'm more like Kwame Nkrumah-Acheampong than I am Shaun White.

Hmmmm. Perhaps I should buy a pair of leopard-print pajamas for the final stretch?