When I hired my morning sitter to manage the boys before school, I lost touch with my children. The full impact of that really hit home this morning when my sitter had to cancel. She called me at 6am. Her car wouldn’t start. I said ok, no problem, I got it from here.
I hung up and suddenly realized I had no clue. What time should I wake them up? When does school start? Oh jeez, does Calvin have his reading class this morning? What do they eat? What about lunches? Do they take their tennis racquets to school? Is today the tutor?
And I quickly became an anxious wreck. I was convinced at 6:05am I was running late when I was almost certain school didn’t start until some time after 8, or maybe 8:30. The next two hours were hell.
I did everything wrong. I woke them up too early. It was too cold for cold breakfast. They no longer eat oatmeal. They were suppose to have hot chocolate waiting for them on the table. “Elizabeth doesn’t fix it this way. Where’s my marshmallow?”
Jack insisted on waffles. “Mom, I eat three, not two, I’m not a little kid any more.” He grabbed the plate from me and lifted it just high enough to dunk my just washed hair in the syrup. They fought over toothpaste and who got to walk out the front door first.
Finally we load up and hit the road. I turn the first corner and Sam knocked my coffee over, the whole cup into the driver seat where I was sitting in my go to work clothes. Of course there is no towel in the car. That would make too much sense. “Mom, you shouldn’t have put your coffee there. Elizabeth doesn’t drink coffee. Why do you drink coffee?”
It’s a bittersweet thing, losing control. I mean I feel like it should be a bittersweet thing. It’s anything but. I blew kisses to them as they walked away like I did when I was a stay at home mom. Then I sped away as fast as the school zone allowed.