Alarming

Silent and sleepy. Dark clouds vainly attempted to thwart the day's sure arrival. I opened my eyes and blinked. Morning struggled through the window. No bright sunshine flooded in, and yet the dark of night was dissipating...

"What time is it?!" I grabbed my little clock and pressed the button. "7:17."

I literally flew out of bed and made a grab for yesterday's blue jeans which were on the floor by my bed. I heard my flip phone fall out of the pocket and hit the floor. I blinked some more, trying to find the runaway phone. In the end I got down on my knees to peer under the bed before locating the digital device and making the dreaded phone call.

"Hello. Tot Spot. This is Heather." said the voice on the other end, and what could I do but tell her I had just woken up and was on my way. I wasn't just going to be late, I already was. By fifteen minutes. "We'll be fine," she said. In truth, they hadn't even yet missed me, but they would soon have been missing breakfast.

Waking up in a panic leaves one rather disoriented at a time when there isn't any extra time to be so. I opened one drawer to find a shirt, and another to locate a pair of socks. Both instances left me feeling blank and confused, like my brain hadn't completely turned on. I dragged a brush through my hair, turned a circle or two in the middle of the bedroom, and tried to clear the fog from my brain. There was no shower, no application of deodorant, and no changing of the undergarment. I tossed two waffles in the toaster and a cup of water in the microwave on the way to the bathroom where I relieved myself and washed my face.

I have no clue what time it was when I left the house, but I made it to work by about 7:50 am, less than an hour after I'd flown out of bed. In a stroke of luck, or Divine Intervention, our fifth baby had just arrived and an extra assistant teacher was taking my place as I came in. (I'd envisioned a room full of tiny tots and infants, at least six or seven of them, but God was way ahead of me.)

The Daycare owner thinks I get too much overtime. He'd wanted me to start taking a "long lunch," which means leaving for my break a half hour early when I am typically cleaning the kitchen and setting out afternoon snacks. (I end up staying an extra half hour to 45 minutes almost every day because we still have too many children in the center at 4 o'clock.)  I told our director I wasn't going to give him 2 1/2 hours of my time every week. She could try to send me home early once a week, but I wasn't going to bust my butt trying to give him back time I needed to do my job and have it wasted. Today I found a new way to save him from paying me overtime... I overslept. Oops.

Tonight the alarm is turned on, and I am turning in. I gained about 2 1/2 hours sleep last night by going to sleep an hour early, and oversleeping for another 90 minutes. Honestly, I think it was much needed. But I don't intend to do it again anytime soon.