…they’ve been few and far between this year. I really need to get out more. Here’s my latest attempt.
I have a scheduled call at 10am. I have to drop off my son at brother’s because my sister-in-law is kind of enough to watch Noah, what with day care being closed for the week (sigh). They live about 35 minutes away, and I can drop him at 8:15. Then I’m meeting some folks for a bike ride at 11 about 15 minutes away. No sweat right? A little preparation, and this should be easy.
Uhh, not so much.
Noah despite going to bed late, is up at 4:50am. And cranky, fidgety-tired to boot. OK, I’ve dealt with this before. Moving along, we get my wife out the door… I should be 15 minutes behind. I start to get the recycling together and then it starts to unravel.
First Noah wants cereal, and not just the bag I’m preparing for him (we have one ready, but he normally takes more…) but he wants the additional cereal in the already full bag. We work something out (he more or less gets his way) and I finish up with the recyling. Then he wants a bowl and some milk with his cereal, and I have one more task to do, so I figure what the heck, and set him up. (Can you feel the lateness piling up?)
Next, I get him into his coat, and start grabbing all the stuff. Noah meanwhile decides that one bear is not enough for today’s excursion and that three would be better. I’ve got my coat on now, and proceed to grab (in no particular order) his lunchbox, backpack, blanket, bag of plastic recycling, extra bag of cereal, newspapers and magazine recycling, keys, and ultimately Noah. We make it down the stairs, I get the garage door open, drop off the recycling for the moment, niftily shift the keys to a position where I can open the car. Turn around, and… no Noah. Sigh.
I drop his stuff in the car, go back to find him in the hallway struggling with his bears. Get him out the door and into his car seat. Strap him in, he gets the bears situated. Leaving the door open, I put the recycling out by the curb, collect the newspapers walk back past Noah, who has chucked at least one bear onto the driveway, and drop off the papers. I get yelled at (did I say he was cranky?) for not arranging the bears correctly, and leave him to do it. I know this is going to be trouble, but I close the door now, so I know the bears will at least be in the car.
I get in car, start things up, and commence defrosting the windows. Shouldn’t take long. Noah’s already demanding “his” music so I plug in my iPod, and find whatever unnamed song he’s demanding on top of his lungs (“Not that song Daddy, the clapping song.” Huh? Whatever, “this one?, this one?, this one?…”). OK, the windows are clear enough, start to back out and hit some piece of (de)construction junk piled up on the side of the driveway ripping the left side of the front fender off the car. Who’d a thought it was that easy? I see dripping… uh oh. Hmmm… seems to be the windshield washer fluid. Did that break or is it just pulled out? Dunno. Doesn’t really seem to click in… but my hand is freezing from the fluid dripping on it and I can’t see any better and I’M LATE!!!
I bash the flap b’s from the bumper into the slot a’s on the car and get things pretty much squared away, totally cursing the guys who left the studs with the nails sticking out in that spot with just the right number and height of them stacked so that they were invisible from inside the car, the universe at large, etc. and head off to drop Noah. Several blocks later Noah informs me that his foot is cold. “Your foot is cold?” “I want my sock back Daddy”. Noah often removes his shoes in the car but he’s usually sane enough to leave his socks on so his feet don’t freeze. Not today. Find a spot to pull over, find sock, and shoe, put them back, ask Noah to please not remove his shoes and socks in the car without permission, and proceed promptly to turn onto the interstate in the wrong direction. Sigh.
Worse, there’s no close exit to turn around, so now I’ve added 15 minutes or so to my trip because I have to go around the long way to get to my brother’s house. Have I mentioned I’M REALLY LATE!? Noah falls asleep because he’s exhausted so no more disk jockeying for me. There’s some, but not a critical amount of, traffic. I meet my brother in the driveway, we pause briefly for pleasantries, and then it’s time to get Noah going. I grab all his stuff, and him (since he’s mostly asleep), and bring him inside. I lay him on the couch and start answering questions that I thought my wife had discussed and answered earlier. Noah wants me to sit with him despite being excited about spending the day with his Aunt (he really loves her). I catch my first break, a show Noah enjoys is playing. He’s happy to sit and watch (a treat for him). A few more questions and I’m out the door, running back toward home and my phone call.
I get home 45 minutes later than I expected, now wondering how I’m going to get it together to meet my friends. I start redressing, realize that half of what I need is downstairs, redress a bit since there could be a painter there any second, and as I’m making my way down, realize that the phone’s going to ring any second. And so it does. 25 minutes later there’s no way I’m making it to meet my friends.
When I first planned this ride it was with one person. Last night it blossomed to three other people, which was totally cool, except, now it wasn’t a “sorry, I’m running late and let’s figure out how to make this work”, it was a I’d be hanging up the group thing, and no chance of rearranging. I was self-annoyed to say the least. I put on a nice voice and called my friend. The upside, I didn’t screw up her ride since she still had folks with whom to ride… downside, it was going to be fun and I’ve missed a chance to hang with some great people and get some exercise.
That’s what my excited preparation looked like from the night before… ah well. All I wanted for myself was a ride…
[Update on the ride…. Yeah, it wouldn’t have been good. Sometimes it goes that way…]