Get up at 4:30 in the morning. You’re solo-parenting this week so you have to get completely ready for work before taking kids to school. You also need to go in early because there’s a track meet to attend this afternoon. As you’re putting on your make-up, you realized that the dog still needs to be fed. Feed dog, finish make-up downstairs. Yell up to the kids that it’s almost time to go. Try to make sense of the toaster. Realize it’s just not plugged in.
Car is packed with your things, kids are not ready to go. Throw something together for lunches. Kids still aren’t ready. Start yelling at this point because everyone is going to be late. After all, you have to drive one kid all the way across town to school. Then drive all the way back towards home to drop the other on off. Oh, and then drive to work.
Finally get everyone in the car, leaving later than planned. One kid forgot their water bottle. (You give them yours.) The other kid forgot the “spirit wear” order form. They start freaking out saying it’s due today. (This is the first time you have heard of this deadline. Of course.) Have children call the husband that is enjoying a nice, quiet hotel room morning. Ask him to look on-line for spirit wear form. Or at the very least, remember the price of the shirt. He finds nothing. Asks to speak to you. You miss the exit off the freeway because you’re trying to be safe as the kid shoves a cellphone in your face. (You weren’t even touching the phone.) Lose your shit a little, tell husband you’ll have to call him back. Take the “scenic” route to the high school. Ignore the arguing children.
Make it to the high school. Quickly write a check for the event tickets you meant to buy yesterday. Look at the clock. Wonder if the other child is going to be on time to school. Hasty goodbye’s and love you’s said. Drive like a bat out of hell (a safe bat, of course) back towards home. Stop and go traffic and some points. Child feels carsick. Roll down all the windows, hope for the best. (Now that you mention it, you’re not feeling the greatest either. Not enough sleep and spastic car rides do not go well together.)
You never found out the exact price of the spirit wear but you’re hoping that if you just write a check, the child can figure it out and get a new order form. Settle on an agreeable price, write a check at the stoplight. Get critiqued by your tween on how you wrote the check. Consider making her walk the remaining way to school sans check. But as you’re contemplating all this, the light turns green and you, miraculously, drop her off at school with plenty of time to spare. Goodbye’s and love you’s said. The kid still looks a little green from the car ride.
At this point, you have to pass your neighborhood on your way to work. Contemplate the pros and cons of calling into work because you’re so tired and you haven’t even started your workday. Your eyes are so heavy, you stop at Starbucks in hopes that it will help you get to work safely. Since you drove a different route to stop by Starbucks, you find yourself on a path that goes right by your parents’ house. It takes every ounce of willpower to NOT stop and hang out with Mom all day. Or sleep all day. Or both. You sigh and keep driving. But you do call to wish your sister a happy birthday. Realize you sound slightly insane and your birthday song sounds like Buddy the Elf. It’s probably a good thing she loves you anyway.
Get to the office. Respond to emails, etc. Check all the things. Decide to email the track coach regarding the spirit wear order. As you make your way to the school website, you see the link plainly on the home page of the school’s website regarding spirit wear. Click on the form and hope that you’ve sent enough money.
See that the deadline to order spirit wear is next week.
With a slow shake of your head, and after popping two Excedrin, you somehow come to the conclusion that selling your children isn’t the answer but wonder if anyone will notice if you crawled under your desk for a nap. Decide that you’re just too tired to care.