By: Jen Wainwright
I officially got my ass handed to me this morning in the game of Life we all play in once school begins.
You see, well what had happened was…
The alarm went off, and I pushed snooze. Twice. (Alright, thrice.)
It was Wednesday, and the kids were readying for school. The clock read 7:19. All cool.
Then…a time warp, I believe. Maybe it happened when one child had to poop (and had to have a magazine), or perhaps my brain slipped on the three field trip permission slips spread across our kitchen table that needed to be signed or the fact that we were out of yogurt for my son’s lunchbox. Or maybe the coffee kicked in reminding me of the later-day details of a 1:30 dentist appointment and a 4:30 volleyball game and the grocery shopping that must happen and my deadlines at work or – did I mention we were out of yogurt? That’s a food group in our home.
Suddenly – 7:32. Say what?! It was seriously just 7:19. We leave at 7:35.
A quick scan of my kitchen showed two heads of hair that still needed combing, three sets of teeth that still needed brushing, six feet without shoes (two without socks even), and I heard my Mom-voice come out at level: Intense.
“7:32! We’ve got to moooove!”
My phone rang just then. Really? I knew I was in trouble because many a’ morning I love a quick chat on the way to school with various friends. How could the phone already be ringing?
Now we’re all parents reading this, so I know you know that I know that you know what the next three minutes in my home looked like – like the radio just got changed from Bob Marley, all mellow and groovy, to Megadeth at full volume.
Three kids, one adult and, of course, the dog, smashed into our narrow, rectangular bathroom trying to brush teeth in one sink and comb hairs while I frantically wrapped ponytails in place through a blur of “PLEASE move!” “She won’t let me…!” “I can’t reach the…!” “Ow! You stepped on my…!”, and I could hear my damn phone ringing, again.
Flying out the door into our van, it rang again! Is her car broken down? Does she need a ride for her daughter? (Anybody knows getting on the phone is suicide at this very moment because what I really needed was 10 more minutes in Life, not a chat.)
Traveling at break-neck speed, I picked up.
Me: “Hello.”
Her: “Hey mama! Are you turning in that permission slip today? It’s due today, right, with the $3…”
Me: “It’s due today?”
We got to school, walked in and I almost exhaled. We’d made it. Then I noticed a mom handing her son money. Wait a minute – what day was this, again? Wednesday. Wednesday! In our school, Wednesday is chapel day and while it’s not mandatory – who really wants to be the kid who doesn’t put chapel money into the plate when ALL OF THE OTHER KIDS do??
And, of course, I realized I had no cash just as I realized I didn’t even have my purse.
A friend walked by during my cashless epiphany, and lent me a $5 without a blink or a stink eye (Good lookin’ out, Mama. Many thanks.).
As I headed to the office to break the $5 into $1’s, I heard, “Jennifer! Can I speak with you?”
Jennifer? Jennifer is my birth-given name, but just hearing it straightens my back a bit. A Katie knows what I’m saying, here, when she hears, “Kathryn!”, or a Liz, “Elizabeth! Can I speak with you?”
I spun around like a school-girl-in-trouble only to meet face-to-face with a wonderful woman, in need of volunteers and could I…? Honestly, I couldn’t.
My non-cash-having, non-volunteering-self tiptoed into my daughter’s class to give her the borrowed money only to hear, “Moooooom. We forgot my permiiiiiission sliiiip.” Her teacher smiled, stack of signed permission slips in-hand, as I explained we’d turn hers in…the next day. The damn thing wasn’t due until Friday, but the “early-returners” got candy. Rrrright.
As I walked out of school, cursing literally under my breath about permission slips and time warps and the stupid snooze button and the toothpaste all over my bathroom counter and dentist appointments and volleyball games and deadlines and…
I caught a glimpse of myself in the window.
Oh.
The time I generally put myself together into a somewhat-presentable state to walk my children into school each morning before returning home to work from home had gotten whisked away in the time warp, too…
My hair was in a bun that had gangsta-leaned to one side, my sweatshirt had coffee spilled down the front – and I’ll be damned if I didn’t even have on a bra.
JEN’S ZEN
— Because the damn dishes are never done. Laundry is a cruel joke. And because children are beautiful lessons in Patience and Counting. 10, 9, 8, 7 Breathe…
Jen is a freelance writer, parent to three, and she’s been a stepparent for over 15 years. She is well-equipped to discuss and write about the great, and the not-so-great, details of all-things-parenting. Along with spending quality time with her family, Jen enjoys music, chocolate, camping and relaxing. And laughing!