Everyday
My plan was pretty simple. Not an architectural drawing for a skyscraper or
financial goals for some certain major sales contracts. I just wanted to get my
four kids dressed and fed. Then I wanted to get in the car without mishap and
drop them off at school on time.
However, that plan almost always failed.
My kids seemed to think the definition of hurry was “Mommy’s getting
cranky”. They each had their own plans, which changed from minute to
minute and made me crazy.
One hopeful morning, my son was actually trying to follow my plan by
putting on his shoes ... except he couldn’t find his shoes. My preschooler
was tracing raindrops with her syrupy finger on the just-polishedyesterday
window. And my other child was hanging out, watching the rush of others.
The baby... well, she always needed a diaper change at the very time
everyone was finally in the car even when I had turned the key in the
ignition. I think I could potty-train her with the sound of a starting car
instead of the conventional running of water in the bathroom.
After dropping off the two elder children, I headed to the nearby grocery
store with the two smaller children, optimistic that this morning could only
get better. I daydreamed about a parking space right in front, plastic
vegetable bags that open, no-wait deli counters as usual, sales on Crystal
Light and hair color, and a checkout person who is fast, friendly, and pleased
with my just-expired coupons. What better it can be?
And here’s what happened. I wheeled the cart with my smashed-banana-
covered baby to the checkout line and loaded the conveyor belt with all stuff.
Then I fumbled for the coupons and grocery card the checkout person
required before she would check me out. I told her we had eaten two
bananas. The register tape ran out, the baby was pulling items off the nearby
