Our mornings are chaotic. There is never enough time, it seems, to simply get the day started with three children without telling someone to hurry, stay on task, just put on your gosh-darn socks. Our school day starts early; we must leave the house by 7:30 or we’ll be late, the oh-so-dreaded late for kindergarten and first grade, the very stupidity of which thought makes me giggle and want to take them out for coffee, because who cares if you’re late for kindergarten? How much does it matter in the grand scheme of things? Yet I rush them along, but sometimes the universe has other plans for my humility.
Yesterday was one of those mornings of constant hurry-ups; we were running later than our usual standard, and the grey, grey sky and silently falling rain did not help our scheme. When we finally made it out the door I realized I had left my keys in the locked house and then the sky let loose with rain that fell in sheets. Since I know myself and my habit of locking myself out, I had long ago hidden another set of front door keys in the garage. Big kids crouched under the garage eaves while I ran around to the front door with the shoeless baby in my arms, both of us soaked through within seconds, but we got the car keys and started off for school a mere 15 minutes late and in surprisingly good humor. I firmly believe that being able to laugh at one’s own follies is the most important skill to have as a parent.
We got to school, parked the car in the very most pothole-filled parking lot on the face of the planet, and ran around the corner toward the school’s entrance. As we did so, another very-late-parent-type was pulling up to the curb and ran over a seltzer bottle, which exploded in a very loud POP!, spewing its contents and cap directly into poor Emma’s face and mouth, down her shirt, in her jacket hood. These things only happen to me, I thought. She burst into tears; we headed to the nurse to clean her up, and she recovered with her usual grace and good humor. Both kids made it to their classrooms in time to begin morning work. Phew! I thought I was in the clear, with the morning marathon complete I could now go home and have that cup of coffee and try to convince myself that the shower I sped through only an hour ago was worth it despite the sweat now running down my back. But as I turned to leave Emma’s classroom, her teacher turned to me and with a sarcastic smile said as she looked at my beautiful littlest son, “Boy, he really slows you down, doesn’t he?”
Damn. That one sentence crushed me in an instant, undid all of the upbeat thoughts and smiles I had managed to be putting forth all morning. To be scolded by her teacher was a slap I did not need on a morning that had been less than stellar. Against my better judgment I immediately went on the defense, telling her about the soda bottle and the trip to the nurse, turning it around to make her be the one to feel bad – oh, this was not one of my finer moments. I will admit that I stewed about it all day long, even called a friend who recently added a nearly two year old to her family and she commiserated with me about how hard this is, how tender and fragile these new family relationships we are building still are, and how not sleeping for a month can kill your sense of humor.
I let that one comment knock down so much of my parenting self-esteem, and I know better. So at the end of the day I picked up those two great big kids of mine, threw scooters and stroller in the car, and headed to my in-laws’ house for a walk/scooter in the sunshine, up and down hills, around and through puddles. I cheered them on when they made a good splash and instead of telling them to hurry up, I cheerfully hollered wait for me and raced them up the road. We stopped to watch the snow-melt draining in rivers and rivulets down the storm drains, listened to bird calls, and praised the balmy wind that flushed our cheeks. They giggled at their new brother, he called back to them with his biggest grin, and I smiled at how strong their bond is, how very far we have come already.
Yes, they slow me down, but it is wonderful, it is everything I ever wanted and more. And I really don’t care if we are late for kindergarten.
