Outside of our dining room window sits a dilapidated old bird house.  It’s kind of awesome and it’s kind of broken.  (You guys, my whole house is a metaphor for my whole life – wouldn’t you know it?)

Yesterday, while we were eating brunch (which we only officially do on Sundays and, by the way, I made sausage and gravy over homemade biscuits for the first time (I think) in my southern life) and we looked at the bird house and there was a frog toad peering over the high perch.

Today, I kinda felt like that frog.

If that frog could drive a giant bus of a vehicle and spend its day spinning its wheels, then that frog toad and I felt exactly the same way.  If that way was sort of trapped and kind of out of control but also thinking the view was sort of pretty – then that frog toad and I were spot on feeling the same feelings.

It was an early rising kind of day (but the kids were such kind champs about the waking up part) and a driving here and there, from doctor to eye doctor to whatnot.

This cute grandkid hopped in the back seat with us for a little of the morning while his momma visited her own doctor alone.  Good grief, that boy is endlessly entertained by the admiring faces that clamor around his own tiny one.  (I mean, just look at his eyes for London!)

I took all six of these yahoos to Bergen’s eye doctor appointment.  The one written on my calendar for today.  At 9:45.  On the other side of town.

And I’ll just go ahead and assume what did not appear to be the least bit true – that my receptionist was a really friendly and helpful and lighthearted woman with a sincere and genuine concern for others that schlep their way into her presence.  I have to assume that she feels and acts that way on every other day of her life because – well – I saw zero evidence of any of those qualities this morning.

She seemed pretty perturbed that I was even alive near her, let alone the six children that accompanied me.

I was informed that my appointment was actually not on the day in which we were all currently existing, but is, in fact, next week.

I wasn’t even mad.  I really wasn’t.  I assumed responsibility for this mistake and attempted light hearted banter about the entire little fiasco.  Banter that didn’t even involve the fact that I had SIX children with me on a Monday morning.  I promise I was not expecting to get a special pass to see an eye doctor who wasn’t even at work that day.  I just thought, foolishly, that I might get a smile.  A little nod of “phew, what a morning – eh?”

That’s cool, Lady at the Receptionist Desk.  Next week, when I come in to see you AGAIN, I’ll bring you some scones or pumpkin muffins.  Or something.  For the love.

The rest of the day me and Trapped Frog Toad were probably still feeling all the same matchy matchy feelings.  There was lunch and afternoon school (which nobody loves) because morning school had been spent driving and meeting pleasant people.  There was more evening driving for Trail Life and slightly late bedtimes because – driving.  (I bet I’m going to have put gas in my car twice this week and I already want you to know that I dislike pumping gas as much as I dislike taking the trash down the driveway at night or deboning a chicken.  All terrible tasks.)

So hey, Mr. Frog Toad, I get it.  There’s not much space around here and the demands on our time are pretty high.  But the view from this height is unlike any other I know.  I don’t guess I plan to live up here forever, but it’s holding up alright for now.  Also –  I’m almost certain I remembered to send some boy out to rescue you from your perilous habitat.

___________________________________