This morning’s commute was going to be rough anyway, it always is on Mondays and Wednesdays. First, I take the baby to my sister-in-law’s, then Sully to preschool, then Brady to Kindergarten, then I drive to work. I leave the house at 7:20 AM to get to work by 9 AM. It is always a tight squeeze getting everyone where they need to be on time and then today it snowed, the roads were terrible, and I had volunteered myself to pick up one of Sully’s classmates.
It happened toward the end of last year. She was standing there 8 months pregnant, holding the hands of her two-year-old and four-year-old. I spoke with her at drop-off and pick-up on most days, but had not socialized with her outside of that. I suddenly had flashbacks to when Colin was a new baby and I had to drag all three kids out in the winter months to take Brady to school (I was actually so inspired by one trip that I started writing this blog) and before I knew what was happening, I offered to pick her little girl up and bring her to school. She let out this huge sigh of relief and took me up on my offer. I figured what is one more stop anyway.
Well, this morning, it was a lot more, mostly because the roads were terrible. All morning I kept checking my phone for a missed call or an email to alert me that one of the two boys’ schools were closed (they are in different districts.) 210 school closings in metro Detroit and none were my kids’ schools. We left the house with a little extra time to spare.
The roads were far worse than I was expecting, even after Mark had sent me a text warning me that they were slow. By the time, I had the baby dropped off, we had eaten up all my extra time plus some. The next stop was to head back to my neighborhood to pick up the little girl. I had planned on arriving to Sully’s school 10 minutes early so that I would have time to help him and his classmate with removing their boots, coats, hats, and gloves, sign in their name, and answer the question of the day. We did not even get to his school until after the bell rang and that was with me honking my horn at a person who had decided to stop right before the street I needed to turn on. I may have scared the little girl a little bit when I yelled, “You’re blocking the intersection!” (Hey, at least I did not swear.) You do not worry about these things so much when it is your own kid, but I am kind of hoping the little girl did not go home and tell her mom that Sullivan’s mom yells and honks her horn while driving.
I hurried all the kids into school and basically ripped their winter gear off of them and shoved their little feet into shoes. Again, hoping Sully’s classmate did not tell on me. Their teacher helped me with getting them to sign their name so that Brady and I could bolt out of there and get him to school on time-ish.
I hate, hate, hate being late, I get this really anxious belly, even when I know being late is unavoidable. This morning Brady, who takes after his mother, kept asking me if he was going to be late. I told him probably, and that it would be far better to be late than to get in a car accident. I was reassuring him, but I think I was mostly saying it out loud to remind myself. And seriously, I have no idea why I get so worked up over this stuff. Is it really the end of the world if he is five minutes late to Kindergarten one time?
I would not know because we made it with literally one minute to spare. Bam. Mission impossible! (And I drove incredibly safe the whole time and only honked/yelled at that one person.)