For My Children, On The First Day Of May

My Dear Lovelies,

Today is the first day of May. You have a scant four weeks of school left. You are in the final count down. (Sorry for the '80s ear worm, btw) There are about 20 days left in which you must pack up your things and tote them to school. This means, by my calculations, that you have already been packing and toting for about 8 months. Or approximately 32 weeks. Or somewhere around 160 days, give or take a snow day. That is many, many days, my sweets.

What I'm saying is, you've had lots of days to practice at being organized. You've had quite a bit of time to get your, um, "stuff" together. They say it takes 30 days to form a habit, so you've had the opportunity to make or break 8 different habits.

My question for you is, why isn't Remembering All The Things I Must Have With Me At School In Order To Properly Get Through My Day one of them?

Why, for the love of Pete, am I still receiving frantic ALL CAPS texts shortly after you have left the house for the day? Why, am I still asked to bring x to school at y time? I have never liked algebra and these different equations which I am being asked to solve before I have even had a cup of coffee make me want to weep.

Today, for instance, I was asked to please, pretty please (Gosh, you're pretty, mom!) bring a jar to school. Before first period. Shortly after that, another child asked if I was feeling nice. That sent my spidey senses to tingling, because I try really, really hard to always be nice. But I knew something else was going to follow that sentence. And really? It left me feeling not so nice.

Do I look like a Fed Ex driver? Nope. I drive a crappy, white minivan with a sliding door that refuses to budge and a piece of red electrical wire holding up my cracked front bumper and an odor of rancid french fries that permeates the interior. (This is not a rant complaining about my van. I will drive Blanca until she dies and I will love her for taking all the abuse we have heaped upon her, lo these past 10 years. This is merely to compare and contrast the differences between what I drive and what a Fed Ex driver drives.) Do I look like a UPS delivery person? Nope. Brown is so not my color. It makes me look washed out. My point here, in case for some reason you are unable to suss it out, is that I am not paid for or compensated in any way for making deliveries.

And no. Texting me that I'm so pretty or I'm the best mom ever do not count as compensation. At least not in the context in which they are being used.

I have driven to school in the pouring rain. I have driven to school on icy roads. I have driven to school in the snow. I have driven to school during the peak of the high school rush hour! You have no idea how I have endangered my life for you! I have run to the school in my pajamas. I have run to the school in exercise gear. I have run to the school with no makeup. The secretaries have seen me without makeup almost as much as your father--and we've been married over 20 years! Those poor women don't get paid enough to have to encounter the Crypt Keeper as often as they do. I'm begging you, don't worry about my pride; think of the secretaries.

I love you more than all the sand on all the beaches on the planet. But hear me now and know that I say this because I love you and want what's best for you: I am not afraid to let you fail. Many of life's greatest (and hardest) lessons come from failure. I speak from experience. I know you are all smart and resourceful and resilient and you will be okay. Even if you don't have x at y time. I have worked hard for you and with you all year. You are in the homestretch. You are nearly there. You can do it! I'm sure of it. I will continue to cheer you on from the sidelines until you reach the finish. But me? I'm out. Dunzo. Finished. I have responded to my last ALL CAPS EMERGENCY PLEASE DELIVER text. Unless your hair is on fire and I am the only person left on the planet who can help you, DO. NOT. PUSH. SEND.


Now, my preshus snowflakes, have a great day. Only 21 non-emergency-text, non-please-bring-me, non-are-you-feeling-nice-you're-so-pretty more days to go!

Love,
Mom