Month: September 2018
I Did My Best to Remain Calm Throughout the Ride.
On the boys’ first day of school, I wanted to leave at 7:07. This odd time seemed to be just the thing to catch the boys’ attention and make sure we got out the door on time. Also, 707 is the name of our church youth group, so we can’t forget it.
At 7:07, I still hadn’t made the healthy smoothie I promised to make “every day” for the car ride. Neither boy had a sandwich in his lunchbox. Dylan was still sitting at the table cracking jokes, and Shane – who was waiting patiently for his lunchbox – wandered into the bathroom.
The dog was waiting for the door to open and, eventually, was allowed to make a mad dash into the front seat.
We actually left the house at 7:15. We pulled out of the garage – and then I remembered that I didn’t have a First Day photo, so I forced the kids out of the car in the driveway to get their picture taken. Then we left.
The kids were fairly jovial considering the situation. Dylan was nervous about being a senior and having to survive another year in the classroom. Shane was nervous about being a freshman and having to find everything he needed in a giant new school. Dylan was nervous about being late, because it may have cost him the ability to acquire a parking permit – and he wants to be able to occasionally drive to school. Shane was nervous because – unlike the rest of us – Shane was completely ready on time and didn’t want to be late to homeroom on his first day of high school.
I did my best to remain calm throughout the ride, although I didn’t do well with my driving choices. We got stuck (surprise!) in rush hour traffic, so I made an abrupt turn to take us around a major intersection – which we did successfully. We drove about a mile on the main road before the traffic jammed again, so I swerved onto another back road to get around it.
Then, for some reason, I drove right back into the traffic – and had to go on a different back road to correct my error. Finally, we got to the traffic jam that led to the traffic jam that led into school – and we inched along until the school was in sight.
There is a reason they offer a bus to students every day. And yet, I have volunteered to drive.
We pulled up in front of the school with only a five-minute window for the kids to get to homeroom. The line of cars was outrageous, but we stopped right in front of the doors. Shane leapt out of the car and headed in, but Dylan was still fumbling with stuff in the backseat, so he waited. Finally, Dylan got out – with all the cars waiting – and raced to catch up to Shane.
And in spite of the honking and the angry arm-waving of the security guard, I pulled out my phone and took a photo of my two boys, together, going into school.
I pulled into the exiting traffic while patting the dog on the head.
“Just you and me again,” I said. And we drove home with no traffic trouble at all.
There Goes My Baby.
Shane’s high school orientation was rough – for me.
As always when I’m stressed, I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight, and I needed to get up at dawn. Then I woke up at least five times during the night, tossing and turning and pulling my covers every which way, trying to get some rest, knowing it would be impossible.
I wasn’t afraid that Shane would have a good day. I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up in time to get him to orientation.
Of course, I had no trouble – having been up all night – getting up. I stood up and opened my curtains – and they fell right off the wall. I threw them on the bed and found Bill to complain. (This is how I handle most problems.)
Then I went to pick up the laundry that Dylan was supposed to fold the night before. He had folded exactly half of what he was supposed to fold. I spent the next ten minutes folding a load of laundry.
Eventually, I got downstairs. Shane was ready to go – showered and dressed – but I still had to make his breakfast. It was supposed to be special, except that I had to fold laundry and was therefore late. I got it ready quickly.
Shane had decided not to take a binder or a backpack to school. I talked him into taking a pad of paper and pencil, so he had something on which to doodle if he got bored. Then, somehow, I also talked him into a folder – which was tucked away upstairs. So I spent another few minutes trying to find the old school supplies.
We left on time, in spite of everything, and Shane was in good spirits. At the last second, I decided to take a back road, and I’m not sure it was a wise choice. We were three minutes late – and also, we were 12 minutes early.
Having been to the high school many, many times since Dylan is a student there already, it felt comfortable and easy pulling up to the school – but I suddenly realized that I had no idea where Shane should go. There were hordes of freshmen standing outside, and I didn’t know if he should stand outside or go in.
I saw a few kids go in quietly, and suggested he do that – but he headed for the hordes. He thought that’s where everyone was, and I could understand his perception.
In my rearview mirror, I watched Shane walking, with his carefully selected folder and newly sharpened pencil, toward that group of loud, gangly students. I wanted him to be happy, to be included, to be okay.
Then, quite suddenly, it hit me: There goes my baby, I thought. My baby is in high school.
And I wanted to pull over to the side of the road and cry.