They Felt Like Chauffeurs.

I can remember parents of teenagers telling me that they felt like chauffeurs, so I vowed to cut down on activities and make sure we had plenty of family time.

But so far, with the private school 45 minutes away, this is ridiculous.

On Wednesday, I played softball with my dad. Playing softball is one of the very few things I do for myself, rather than for the kids, and I am not willing to give it up. So my dad took Shane to breakfast and then took him to school, so we could meet at the field after I dropped off Dylan.

But there was a major accident on the highway, which closed down traffic in both directions for a large chunk of the morning. I was caught in the traffic, shuffled off the highway, and made my way through the back roads and got to Dylan’s school only 20 minutes late.

I stopped at home to let out the dog, shove a piece of peanut butter bread into my face, and race to the softball field barely in time for the game. We played (yay!), then I got back in the car to drive BACK to Dylan’s school because Wednesday was, randomly, a half-day at Dylan’s school.

When I got home, I dropped off Dylan, took a shower, ate my lunch (at 3:00) and raced back out the door to get Shane.

I picked up Shane at school, took him home, gave him a snack, then drove him to church. On my way out the door, I yelled to Dylan to feed himself before we had to leave (in 45 minutes) to go back to the same church.

I got stuck in rush hour traffic both ways – so I got home from dropping off Shane, picked up Dylan, and drove back to the church. I picked up Shane from the church, left Dylan there for two hours, then drove back home.

That’s when I started thanking God that I have a husband who was on his way home from work, and would pick up Dylan at church.

Which he did. Thanks, God. Oh, and thanks, Bill!


On Thursday, I got up and did it all again – with the added bonus of having Shane’s friend’s mom taking care of Shane while I got Dylan after cross country practice – and then drove an additional 16.82 miles – and back! – to a birthday celebration for the boys’ half-brother.

So when my dad showed up this morning – miraculously and unexpectedly – to drive Dylan to school, I almost wept with joy.

Thanks, God!

Oh, and thanks, Dad.

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