Anyone who knows me will tell you that my life, the lives of my children, my dogs, my husband – they all thrive on routines. One common routine, that is tweaked throughout the day, for each member of our family. There’s wake-up, breakfast, getting ready for camp, grooming, packing lunch boxes, errands, outside time, lunchtime, nap-time, snack-time, more playtime, picking up Pea from camp, more outside playtime, dinner, quiet time with books, bath-time, more story-time and bedtime. Occasionally, there are other ‘times’ punctuated throughout the day. Lola’s training sessions come to mind, as do things like swim classes, art classes, the occasional trip to the airport. And of course, with kids, you’d have to add doctor’s appointments to that list. And while I’m not insane about our routine and sticking to it, I mean it’s not listed out in detailed bullet points in a binder for our babysitter, or anything like that, I do stick to it pretty closely, from day to day. It’s how my girls thrive, and it’s how I keep my sanity.

But occasionally, we get so far off of schedule, that disaster is bound to happen. Take last Tuesday, for instance. I had an appointment in the afternoon, that I’d completely forgotten about. I’m just glad that they called to remind me a day before, because there is nothing worse, in my opinion, than booking up another person’s time, and not showing up. I would be mortified at the rudeness of it all. So when I received the confirmation call, I said sure, no problem. I’ll see you then. Because canceling less than 24-hours before an appointment? Also a no-no, in my book. Anyway, I realized that 1) I used poor judgement in making the appointment because I made it for 1:00, which is precisely Coco’s nap-time. And while it occurs to me now that I made this appointment before we knew my husband would be off to China for six weeks, still. What was I thinking? Nap-time? You don’t mess with nap-time in our home. That one is etched in stone. But I thought to myself, I can do it. Which brings me to 2) the realization that Pea is in camp from 9:30 to 4:00, and her camp is 20-minutes from our home. And that’s without traffic, of which there is a staggering amount of in the summer. Summer is, after all, a brief season here, so the roads? Streets? Highways? Clogged up with construction trucks. Which meant the ride would be about 40-minutes to pick her up. Not a problem, my appointment should be over by 3:00, leaving me more than enough time, but that brings me to 3) Tuesdays? Are a swim day for Pea at camp. And she’s in the second group, which means she’s always late returning to the campus. And her favorite counselor? He asked me last week if I wanted her switched to the first swimming group, because I am always at camp to pick her up at precisely 4:00 on the dot, because wow, you run on Swiss time, don’t you, and so perhaps I didn’t want to wait around for her to return? And I said no, not necessary. I don’t mind. Not a big deal. And head-slap. Why didn’t I have her switched into the first swim group? Because she’s never gotten back to camp before 4:10 on a Tuesday. And if I’d switched her? She’d have been able to go swimming after all, which would’ve meant a full-day at camp. And none of this would’ve been a problem, except 4) she has a 4:00 appointment for her (albeit) late 3-year check-up. And there was no way I could reschedule that appointment, because I’d already rescheduled it twice.

Phew.

So, knowing this was going to rock everyone to the core, I made some ‘tweaks’ to the day’s schedule:

Pea would go to camp for a half-day, so I would have to pick her up at 12:30, which meant that Coco would have to take an earlier nap, which meant I’d have to wake her and feed her at about 11:30 so that we could be in the car by noon, heading over to camp to pick-up Pea, who thankfully would be eating lunch at camp, just before she left for the day. I would then take the girls to a local drop-in childcare place that is very popular, and my gosh, wasn’t I lucky to get them in without a reservation? Good news! It’s right next door to the salon where I’d be getting my hair cut and colored, which was a relief, since I didn’t have my “who to call in case of emergency” person’s number on me. At least they’d know where to find me, right?

So, I dropped the girls off. And they were delighted to be there. And I ran next door, told my stylist I had to be out of there by 3:30 to make it to an appointment. No problem, right? Right. I was out of there by 3:30.

And then, a comedy of errors ensued. You knew it would, right? Murphy’s Law, and all?

When I arrived to collect the girls, Coco was having her second poop changed. In two hours. And Pea? Was wearing a 3-month old diaper cover as panties, because she’d had a minor ‘accident.’ Even though it says explicitly on my paperwork that she sometimes gets so caught up in fun that she forgets she has to go, so please, be on high alert for the ‘pee-pee dance.’ It’s not hard to miss. And then, we leave. And Pea? She wipes out on the concrete. Scrapes up her knees, and needs some TLC. And when we finally make it to the parking structure? Where are my &%*^ing keys? Oh, here they are. In my hand. Okay, we’re on our way. Finally.

We make it to the appointment with Pea’s pediatrician by 4:00. But? Doctors? Never on time, especially at the end of the day. Cue another head slap. Why didn’t I remember this? They stick us in an exam room at 4:00. No books. No toys. My girls are hungry. Coco is tired because she napped off-time. Pea is tired because she was at camp. They are irritable. And bored. And restless.

Enter the pediatrician. Fifty minutes later. That’s right, it’s now close to 5:00. And what ensued for the next 20 minutes, or so? A positively exhausting session of my least favorite pastime: making mommy feel like she has no earthly clue what the hell she’s doing.

It was pointed out that my attempts at discipline were not working. That Love & Logic? Is great for kids who are ‘normal.’ But Pea? She’s spirited. (Might I just tell you how much I despise ‘labels?’ Especially for a 3-year old?) And perhaps I need to try something else? And please, can you ask her to stop touching the photos on the walls? And spinning on my chair? And no, you may not have a sticker until after your appointment. And yes, there will be a shot today. What? The nurse said it could wait until your next check-up? She was wrong. She needs it today. And your husband? Gone for six weeks? However are you doing this, all by yourself? Hmm…

I was blind-sided. I left the appointment in tears, completely having forgotten all of the variables that led up to such a tremendously awful visit with our (formerly) beloved pediatrician in the first place. I was knocked down, I was upset, I was shaken, I was feeling unfit as a mom, I was wondering who the heck let me have these incredible girls in the first place? Surely they deserved better?

And we returned home. We got back on schedule, although a little later than usual. I fed the girls, bathed them, read them stories and tucked them into their respective beds. Then I poured myself a cocktail, sat on the couch and bawled my heart out. And then… a moment of clarity. I am a good mother. My girls are lucky to have me, just as I am lucky to have them. And today? It was one day, borne out of poor judgment. But we got through it. And my (formerly) beloved pediatrician? Wasn’t looking at the whole picture. Just those 20 or so minutes of the day, and making a perverse judgment on me, my girls, our lives. And shame on her.

And so, I settled in to continue reading the most current title on my reading list: “Playful Parenting.” And it occurs to me that going off-schedule for a little while? It’s so good for the soul. All of those unexpected moments that occurred during the day? However harried and frazzled I was feeling? Were priceless. Pea and her sheer delight at seeing me in the doorway of her camp, a whole 3-1/2 hours before she usually sees me; the girls, confidently going forth into this new drop-in childcare center, a place they’d never been before, and never looking back at me; my elation at seeing Pea hugging her little sister, as I peaked in through a window as I left to head next door; the cuddles and kisses after Pea fell and injured herself on the sidewalk, Pea crawling into my lap, to ask me why I was crying? Did I have a boo-boo? Did I miss Daddy? All worth it. So very worth it. Just don’t expect me to do it again, on purpose, anytime soon.

So, in a nutshell: we had a bad day. I’m a good mom. 3-year olds? Much tougher than a 2-year old. Vodka tonic? Quiet time? Good book reinforcing what I am doing with my girls? Bill Withers? Bobby Caldwell? All good. My girls? The best ever. For all of the rough times I’ve faced as a parent? Those throw-my-hands-up-in-the-air and the subsequent wonder-who-I-think-I-am-for-thinking-I-can-do-this-all times?

Pfft. I can do this. I will do this. I am doing this. Right now…