At 10:45am I checked my daily calendar and gasped.
Part One
The Princess is signed up for once a month day camps at the coolest Camp Ground everrrrr. Think The Parent Trap. Yeah – so cool.
But class is from 10am - 2pm. It is also 35 minutes away.
I became a whirling dervish, screaming things at the children and the dog. Things like,
“Shoes!”
“Late!”
“Car!”
“Why are you sitting on the floor? MOVE!!”
“Laudie go outside and go potty NOW. I command you!”
As soon as we were in route I called Mr. Right for directions. That’s right. You read it. I didn’t know where I was going. So I called for back-up and by golly he wasn’t answering. It rang and rang and . . .
Never one to waste a moment, I used this opportunity to chastise my beloved offspring.
And NOONE, I hollered, is allowed to play on my Touch so stop asking for . . .
Through my speaker we heard Mr. Right clear his throat, “Hello?”
Drat. He heard Evil Me speaking.
I don’t know where I’m going! I cried into the phone. Where am I driving too? TELL MEEE!!
I could hear the nurses reeling at the shrieks coming through his phone.
He calmly explained the way.
We were late of course. But by golly I knew they were doing archery today. How could I let The Princess miss the opportunity to pretend she’s Susan Pevensie?
Part Two
Two hours later found us beginning the return journey to retrieve our darling oldest. On the way, we were to pick up the cutest button in the world, Miss C., for a playdate with The Pixie. Miss C is so cute Mr. Right has already given The Pirate permission to marry her.
We picked her up, played musical car-seats: putting the girls in the “far back” third row, and found ourselves on the road where The Pixie promptly unbuckled herself.
Miss C. attempted to help re-buckle but it was not to be.
As I got on the free-way The Pixie began shrieking, “I can’t buckle! I’m going to diieeeeeee.”
Miss C. looked mildly alarmed.
I cannot reach you. I said over my shoulder. And I cannot pull over mostly because of the traffic but also because I’ll be darned if I’m late dropping The Princess off AND picking her up. I’d rather clean a bathtub than suffer that humiliation.
What could I do?
Pixie? You’ll have to sit on the floor until we get there.
“Noooo!!!!”
You must. It’s the safest place until you’re buckled.
I worried about the illegal influence we were to Miss. C. but then she happily explained how things were in her car. My concerns were assuaged and apparently so were The Pixie’s who was happily using the floor as a trampoline.
Hey! I DO NOT want to see your head or your bottom until we get there, I warned her.
Bounce.
Sit on the floor.
Bounce. Flip.
Sit on the floor.
Bounce.
And then I heard a chime.
A gentle, chime.
Not from the Leapster which The Pirate had been quietly playing, but from somewhere on my control center.
A quiet noise I’ve never heard in the year, two months and twenty days that I’ve owned the Big Blue Love of my life.
“Low Fuel.” She politely said.
I immediately felt good communication was in order.
This is a new phase in our relationship, I told her. I do not understand what you mean when you say ‘Low Fuel’. Please do not be as short-tempered as my cell phone which warns me it’s battery is low and then crashes with the next text. Please, I begged her, my daughter is on another peninsula and I want to get her. My other daughter is illegally practicing her auditions for Cirque du Soleil and my son…
“Mom.” In the rearview mirror he was pale. “I’m carsick. I think I’m going to throw-up.”
What could I do?
Dear sweet Miss G,
Do you remember that lovely glass bowl you lent me and I PROMISED to return it?. Today when I left the house I had the best of intentions. I placed it carefully on my front seat and thought with what joy you would receive its return. Surprise, surprise. It needs a thorough washing.
Love, Me.
The Pirate looked at the peas swimming in bile which prettily sparkled reflections from the glass bowl and happily informed me, “Mom I don’t feel sick anymore.”
We arrived only five minutes late.
After we disposed of the contents of Miss G.’s pretty glass bowl, found The Princess glowing with outdoor freshness, and buckled in The Pixie – finally – we began the drive to a gas station.
We found one and as we pulled in The Pixie whined, “Mom I don’t like being buckled, I can’t reach anything!!!”
Aahhhh yes. I have to agree with her. There is truth in that.
Therefore in memory of today I announce that some of the most trying times of my life are when I feel confined.
Confined by time.
By distance.
And even by seatbelts.