Car Line

This blog is brought to you by the week from Fuckedupville.  First, I was an hour late for work on Monday, had court on Tuesday, the kid was sick on Wednesday. I got some extra time at the office Thursday, and was going to go in today.  Honestly.  I was.  

Then I woke up this morning, made myself a pumpkin spice latte, and decided I was in a really good mood and wasn’t going to ruin it by going to work. Plus, Fridays are my day to get the Schmoo to school, which is normally a total disaster.

I should probably tell you that Schmoo is kind of like Rain Man.  She has her routine, and God help anyone who deviates from it.

“I don’t have my toothpicks.  The maple syrup has to come before the pancakes.  If the maple syrup comes after the pancakes, it’ll definitely be too late…I don’t have my toothpicks….I get my boxer shorts at Kmart in Cincinatti.” 

Anyway, THIS is how school mornings go, because this is what the Dad does: wake up to Phineas and Ferb.  Give her five minutes to stretch.  Get her a bowl of Marshmallow Matey’s, or toast with jelly.  Put the day’s clothes in the dryer so she has “hot clothes” to put on.  Ask if she is done with breakfast and ready for “hot clothes.” Let her get dressed.  Do hair.  We are now ready to brush teeth and go to school.

But I always mess this up.  1. I almost always sleep too late on Fridays, and we run late.  2. When running late I like to say, "Fuck this routine bullshit, HURRY!”

I made the mistake last week of trying to do Schmoo’s hair BEFORE she put on “hot clothes.” The only thing missing from the ensuing tirade was that it didn’t involve an airline named Quantus, and she didn’t start hitting herself in the head.

Before I go any further, I would like to stress how imperfect of a mother I am.  I am only responsible for getting my child to school one single day a week, and if she is ever tardy, it’s always on my day (and I thought today was going to be that day).  Plus, I NEVER get the routine just right. 

I don’t do homework.  I don’t have the patience for homework, and we both end up in tears, so this falls to someone else as well.  Other mom’s think this is unacceptable.  Trust me on this.  Homework isn’t my thing…unless it involves making volcanoes, 3-D cell models, the implications of imperial colonialism on traditional cultures (or something else that allows me to wax philosophical), or blowing shit up. Then I rock; otherwise, get your dad.

I buy cheap cupcakes on treat day, and I loathe holiday parties at school.  I go, but I’m never particularly thrilled about going. And, we all know how I feel about picture day.

BUT, there is one thing that makes me feel like a totally superior mother.  As in, all you room moms with your scrapbooks and food storage and healthy snacks can kiss my ass.  I’m totally judging you for it every Friday, too.  This is it.  Ready?

You fucking SUCK at car line!!  As in, EVERY Friday, I want to go crazy like Bill Murray in “Groundhog Day” when he steals Phil and keeps saying, "Don't drive angry."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBpw1sdFu2w

I actually KNOW how to do car line in the mornings and afternoon. I know how to use my blinker when turning off of Lee Street.  I know how to NOT block all three lanes.  I know to WAIT until the parking attendant tells me to pull forward, without cutting anyone else off and running over 13 small children. I know that drop off is not the place to have a 30-minute conversation with my child.  

There’s an unspoken rule here for those of us in the know, and we know this is like being in the pit in NASCAR.  Get in, get out, you’re being timed.  Anything more than a 5 second stop is unprofessional.  Honestly, if you’ve trained your crew, it’s more of a rolling stop. Jumping off of a spinning merry-go-round is the perfect training equipment.

Quick.  Like a bunny. I've got hours to myself, and you're treading on it.

And, here’s the one that makes the rest of the parents and grandparents in the parking lot want to pull you out of your car and beat you with your cell phone: despite what your busy-body mother taught you about being a good mother, they do not give out prizes for being the first in line at pick up after school. No ma’am. Especially if your kid is HABITUALLY the one exiting the building 20 minutes after the bell rang. That means you green Subaru, gray Tahoe, and little man with the jacked-up white pickup.

You pull over on Lee Street and let the kids that actually have their shit together get in the car.  You don’t get first in all three lines. Or even one for that matter, and shoot the shit with each other while the line is backed up around the block to South Boulevard.

This is NOT tea at the PTA.  This is serious business. Get it together already.