Storming the Castle, or at Least, Starting the Commute of Despair

Pass me that miracle pill.   The chocolate coating makes it go down easier and I shouldn't go swimming for at least an hour. 

We are about to embark on an insane journey that makes the trip to Texas in a 12 passenger van sans air-conditioning and back seem like a walk in the park. 

We start school Monday.  By 6:35 a.m, the first must be launched. The second must be out the door and at the bus --she can't walk to the bus stop because it is too far, by 7:20.  Five must leave by 7:35 to escape being late, and one must be walked down to the bottom of the hill every day by 8:25.  Before they leave, they must have been fed, assemble a lunch and be properly attired for their respective school and have all their things.   In how many weeks will Mom and Dad simply collapse? 



When did my life become a word problem from my fifth grade math book?

The afternoon is just as nutty, with one coming back via metro, one via the school bus --same pick up place as we dropped off, and five needing pick up from their school all at the same time (natch), by one mom with two in tow.   This does not factor into the equation late days because of special activities, evening meetings or practices, homework or any of the other things that life normally has within its folds, like folding, dinner, bath time routines, bedtime routines or the most evasive and elusive of all basic needs, sleep.  I'd be very happy with the gift of Bi-location, but it would have to include my car.  

I keep running over things in my mind and I come back to one thing.  I Do  Not  Know. 

That's my answer.  How does she do it?  Answer: She doesn't know yet.   I'm making this up as I go along.   Indiana Jones I'm not, but I'd be very happy if my kids could commandeer some perfectly saddled white stallions and run them back to my house every day. Cue trumpet theme song.

Alternatively, if someone would just develop that darn transporter beam, all of Bone's concerns about scattered molecules aside, I'd be game if only to know that I would not become mind melded with the van for the next nine months.   In this case, (sorry Indie) it's not the mileage, it's the years that I will be able to count up that I have spent driving, enough to go toe to toe with any cross country 18 wheeler.

So those are my options: High technology, High Fantasy or High Spiritual Grace or slogging it out with the sincere knowledge 1) they are going to be late and 2) you are going to be tired.  But I'm game. I've set my alarm for 5:45.  We'll see what we can do about doing the kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.  I'm hoping I can get them all up at 6:00, have made the lunches by 6:30, take the girls and drop them off at their respective spots and be back by 7:00 o'clock, finish fixing breakfast and load the car for the next launch by 7:30, leaving me to walk the youngest two down the hill so I can get my son on the bus by 8:25.   Then I hope a friend will pick up my metro girl and bring her to her old school so I can swoop in and gather 6 before heading back to just near home to get the 7th in short order.  It's possible.  It's just not easy.

Think it will work? 
It would take a miracle.  

Bye Bye!