Hello dear friends! This message is to let you know my new address! Yes, I have moved! I no longer live at my house anymore with my husband and family, as, well, it just became too impractical. So, I moved into my mini-van. Packed the backpack, the lunch box, the overnight kit with emergency floss.
Oh, sure, I try to get back and visit the old hacienda now and then. Mainly between the hours of 1am and 6am. I mumble to the hubby. He mumbles back. We snooze for a few nano-seconds. Then, I fire up the coffee pot and hit the road again.
Yesterday, I was in the van, either driving or waiting for 7 and 1/2 hours. Not even kidding. It was the first day of college for my two eldest daughters. Since they are still trying to master the art of driving (they haven’t hit anything in weeks), I am still serving as the family chauffeur. But…that’s okay. I’m organized.
Made lists for each of my five kids. Passed them out. Expected them to actually look at them. Yes. I am naïve.
Morning went like this:
ME: Good morning! Rise and shine! It is 6 am! As I am sure you consulted your evening list and laid out your clothing and lunches and books, all you need to do now, is glance over your morning list, gather your items and meet me out at my place (AKA: my minivan).
1 hour passes as I enjoy my coffee and the kind of Nirvana that comes from knowing the troops are organized and well rested.
ME: Let’s go!
Them: What? Why didn’t you wake me!? I’m not even up yet!
ME: You went back to sleep?! Are you kidding me? We’ve gone over this! Up at 6! Out at 7!
Them: (screaming) It’s SEVEN?!
Son: Where’s my homework? Where’s my shoe? Where’s my lunch?
ME: You told me you consulted your list last night!
Son: I did!
ME: (screaming) Then WHY AREN’T YOU READY? WHY DIDN’T YOU PACK THE STUFF ON THE LIST?
Son: You didn’t tell me I had to PACK the stuff. You told me to CONSULT the list.
Them: WE CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL WITH HORRIBLE HAIR AND NO MASCARA! TAKE HIM TO SCHOOL AND COME BACK FOR US!
ME: (still screaming) BUT THAT’S 20 MILES OUT OF MY WAY! By then, I was talking to the bathroom door.
Which…(sigh)…after driving him to school, them to school, me to shopping, him home from school, them home from school, him to soccer, her to her job at the fast food place, him home from soccer, her home from the fast food place, really doesn’t seem like that much out of my way in the scheme of things.
Anyway, dear ones, if you’d like to visit me, you can usually find me whizzing down an on/off ramp of a high/free-way in one of 4 different cities. You can’t miss me. I’m the one with the bulging veins on her neck and the half-dressed, half-fed, half-awake people screaming in the back.