The best-laid plans of mice and men

Have you ever read the poem "To A Mouse", by Robert Burns? If you can get through the whole thing, more power to you. It's a jumbled maze of toungue twisters and broken words. But the moral of it is this: The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. After today, I'm pretty sure that Burns should have added another "m" to that little tidbit: Moms.

I've been out of work for several days, sicker than I've been in a long, long time. Flu, maybe. I think I'm back among the living now though. Thankfully! Anyway, after almost a week of being able to do nothing, I was anxious to get out and move today. So off to the gym I went.

Actually, let me back up. I got everything packed last night so I would have to do it this morning. I had my water bottle ready, my sneakers close by. I had to pick up the kids first. I got Matthew from school and got him started on his homework reading, and then drove to the sitter's house. I arrived a few minutes early, because I wanted to be at the gym by 3:30, and wouldn't you know it - they were still asleep!

I got them up and out of the sitter's house pretty quickly; it only took about 20 minutes. I made it to the gym one minute in the hole against the appointed time I'd set for myself. So we walk back to the daycare room, and I found myself in dismay. When did they chance the daycare time from 3:30 to 4:00?!! So we wait. And wait. And wait. It was okay though...there was a class at 4:30 that I wanted to take, and I could use the 4 to 4:30 time period to warm up. Finally the daycare lady showed up and I handed Annah off to her. Miss Annah, who'd been better known as Miss Cranky Pants since I woke her up 50 minutes earlier.

I got out and got my clothes changed. And started my routine. And less than 6 minutes later, the manager found me. Jonathan needed to potty. Daycare rules say the staff can't take them - which I'm totally fine with. So I took him potty. But as I took him back, I heard Matthew say how Annah had been crying since I left. So I looked in on her and she's actually laying in one of the baby beds in the daycare room, covered in blankets and sobbing. The daycare lady said she looked sick. And I knew that she really didn't feel well, because she'd taking cold meds all day for her running nose and crankiness. She'd felt warm when we got up this morning, but I didn't take her temp.

Well heck...what was I supposed to do then? Leave her in there sick and crying, with everyone thinking what a bad mother I was for bring my sick child to the gym daycare? Oh no. So I loaded them up and left. And 3 minutes after we'd walked out of the doors, she was fine; laughing, playing, etc. Little bugger. She just wanted to go home.

So home we came. Oh well. The best-laid plans of moms - I mean, mice and men.... right?

And just as a little added bonus, here's "To A Mouse", for your reading pleasure.

To A Mouse
by Robert Burns.

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
What makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell -
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me;
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects dreaer!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!