Well, not really. 7:34 is the cut off. We were there at 7:32....but there's a story there.
I have the day off of work today. Well, kind of. I have to run one kid to two different appointments during the day and clean the house and catch up on laundry and pay bills and start planning next week's meals/groceries and continue to deal with the fallout from my paypal account being compromised and make two different dinners and go through our stuff for some specific donations needed and pick up another kid from an afterschool activity but other than that, I am off today. I also have a meeting tonight but I don't consider that work; it's for a charity event that I want to participate in. It's the type of thing that brings me joy, so it's not work.
Not that caring for my family doesn't bring me joy. It's a joy to clean around toilets and scrub stains from tee shirts. An absolute freakin' joy.
I have the day off of work today. I was excited last night because of school schedules that I would get to sleep until 6:00 this morning! As if that happened...5:00 was it for me. Sleeping in is hard most times I do get the chance. So, at 5:00, I've got LOTS of extra time. Facebook (a.k.a. the devil to any accomplishment whatsoever) grabbed me in those early hours. I sat downstairs with a coffee and my phone by the woodstove. For a long time. I started stoking up the stove and to get it burning hotter at some point...it had cooled down to 400-ish overnight.
Around 6:30 I realized I hadn't heard any movement above me. I didn't think too much of it...after all, my oldest is super good about getting up herself and she was driving Bubba to school, so I figured she'd be after his butt to get up. Kept working on the stove and Facebooking/Pinteresting/Emailing/Web Surfing. BAD MOMMY.
6:44 I go up to dark bedrooms and no movement. Panic raised. Get up, get up, get up!!!!!
7:06 Daughter is ready to go. I tell her to just go. Bubba is in the kitchen in boxers and socks. The sight of this makes me want to scream. A lot. His clothes are in the dryer. YOUR CLOTHES ARE IN THE DRYER? **Side note to all the moms who have expressed jealousy at one time or another that my kids are responsible for their own crap: It ain't all sunshine and roses. Case in point this morning.
Bubba is finally ready to go around 7:22. This is cutting it VERY close. I am not screaming but I really, really want to. Racing off to school we go. I may have let out an expletive or two at the bottom of the driveway. Maybe.
***Another side note: I am wearing pajama pants, a long sleeve tee, no bra, hubby's huge brown coat, and a daughter's brown moccasins with no socks. And I have naturally curly hair. You can imagine how fabulous it looks in the morning. There is NO WAY I can go in and sign a kid in late. Not. Happening.
7:32 (actually 7:31 and a half) I triumphantly pull into the drop off area at the middle school."Run!" I say to Bubba. He gets out of the car and walks up to the school. Normal pace. I want to lose my mind.
A teacher is calling out to him about something. About him getting to school so late. She saunters up to the door to let him in, condescendingly telling me the doors lock at 7:30. Thank you. Thank you for being so nice. Thank you for letting me know you'd never dare to arrive at school 2 minutes before you had to be there. You probably don't have kids. You probably are never late for anything. You've never had a Bubba in your kitchen in his boxers and socks at 7:06. Thank you for sauntering up the door at such a leisurely pace. It's so freaking cold outside that any normal person would have been rushing to get inside but not you, teaching me that lesson as a mother was much more important. Thank you, because I can now blame you. It can be your fault Bubba is late. I can release my responsibility and also my anger at the Buick two cars in front of me that seemed to be sightseeing and the Jeep Cherokee at the stop sign who seemed to never want to cross the road (hello, meet my friend, the chicken. You'll learn a lot from her.)
I've even been able to let go of some of my frustration with Bubba. The dire grounding I was imagining on the way to school while I was listing in my head all the things that irritated me to no end about the situation has lightened, thanks to you, ma'am. Happy my taxes go to pay such wonderful folks who can admonish me in all my parenting fails.
I'm going shopping for an air horn today. I'm just going to set it off at the time I get up, whatever time that is on any given day. That might teach them something. I am often awake from 4:15. Yes. The thought of this evil plan makes me happy.
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