I thought I might write a lovely post tomorrow about my pending trip to Copper Mountain, Colorado on Saturday. (My Motto - Why ski Vail when there's Copper?) Oh no, said the gods, just when you thought you had a sophisticated evening at a friend's husband's photography show opening (how very arty), in the original Water Tower building on Michigan Avenue, Chicago (even more arty), thou shalt get a call from the school nurse with the opening words, "Hello Mrs. H, don't worry it's not an emergency". Why does the school nurse say that - she's not likely to be calling about next term's sports options is she?
As it turns out, my lanky, loosed limbed teenager has "popped out" her hip and this time it hasn't gone back. As long as she's on Motrin, she's fine. Given that we are supposed to be skiing sometime onward of 2pm Saturday, this isn't good news. It's apparently not exactly an emergency situation but we need to have her seen by an orthopedic doctor before we leave! I spent about three hours trying to speak to a live hospital person this afternoon. The secret is to leave many slightly hysterical, but rational calls about needing to schedule something for tomorrow etc. etc. About 5 minutes before the phone lines shut down, I received a call scheduling us for tomorrow at 8.15am. (Interesting point, the more I had to have the same conversation, the more I started to say "schedule" with a "ssh" instead of a "sk" beginning. Reverting to roots in times of distress.)
Tomorrow is 2nd child's orchestra start at 7am so this proves no hurdle. I am so wound up at the moment that I might well stay up all night anyway - very unlike me.
Given that they probably will want to do x-rays, we could be there all day, which means that a) I have to wash and pack this evening, and b) I have no idea what's going to happen to my 4 year old at his 11.45am dismissal.
With all this worry, I don't know why I don't have the build of Victoria Beckham (without the plastic boobs of course.)