So you see the post title, and you think, “Oh, she’s one of
those morning people.” Yeah, not so much. My ideal start to the day would
involve waking on my own (without the use of an alarm clock or tiny human),
then applying one of those Jane
Jetson morning masks. But sadly, the real world doesn’t work like that. I’ve
been posting ramblings to Facebook from time to time, and thought it would be
more prudent to reactivate this blog. So welcome, dear reader. Let’s roll.
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It’s been one of those mornings. You know, the ones where you wake up way too congested, thinking you have a few minutes to spare when in actuality you’re already late. Who’s with me so far? So you throw on a t-shirt and shorts, knowing full well that there’s no time to deal with your mom hair this morning – a ball cap will have to do.
One child is already off to school, but the other, the one you’re driving, has just been pulled off of the computer and is whiling away his time in the bathroom, using an entire box of Kleenex to clear his sinuses. Better than the alternative, you think, and head downstairs to get your keys.
“It’s time to go, babe,” you call at 8:55. The blowing continues. Gathering his backpack, your phone and wallet, you call again at 9:01. Then ensues a philosophical discussion about how your child’s nose is in a state of bubbles (gross, I know), and you cannot possibly leave the house at this juncture. You only know two things at this point: (1) he couldn’t have cared less about his nose bubbles until you said it was time to go, and (2) you are NOT getting out of the car with no bra and no makeup to check him in to school late. It’s a vain argument, but justified. The short version of this story is that the tissues, a trash bag, and a bottle of Purell get into the car with us.
By what surely must have been the grace of God and some act of Congress, you make it to carpool on time. Now there’s just the leisurely drive back through some pretty, well manicured neighborhoods, and you’re home free. You know the kind of streets I’m talking about: flowering trees line the extra wide lanes of the meandering divided highway. The early sun peeks through the leaves, dancing across your dash. There’s no traffic save other parents taking their kids to school, the occasional jogger or dog walker, and the mad woman hell bent on getting to Target. Which of these things is not like the other?
Back to the meandering extra wide lanes. Do you know why they build them that way? Because it’s visually appealing in a residential setting, and there are often cars parallel parked along the way. Believe it or not, crazed Target shopper, it’s not because there are invisible lines on that road that only you can see that allow you to pass me going 45 in a 25 mile an hour zone. NOTHING is that good at Target that you have to risk both of our lives, nor those of the biker, jogger, and dog walker who just watched you blow past. Not to mention the fact that you are totally ruining the Mucinex and protein shake induced Zen that gets me from point A to point B before hair and makeup every day. I actually once had a driver – who could also apparently see those invisible lines – pass me on the curve of a freeway entrance ramp because I wasn’t going fast enough for them. But that’s another rant for another day.
My point is: SLOW DOWN, people. Be cautious of those around you. Be mindful of where you’re going and what you’re doing, and don’t make it all about being first, or being in front of someone else. I know what it is to be on deadline, or running late, or needing to check things off of a to-do list. But I also know not to get too wrapped up in those things. Try taking it all in for a change, and just enjoy the drive.
