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!

Why Even if I had a GPS, I'd Still Get Lost for not Listening Closely Enough

By coincidence, my safe driver discount and new insurance card came in the mail today.

A conversation in the car.

"Hey Mom! Can you count to 100?"  "Yes."
"Now?"  "No."

 "How about you count to 100 by 9's."
"9-18-27-36-45-54-63-72-81-90-99" 
"Can you count to 100 by seven's?"
"Mommm? I'm hungry."
                                     "We just had breakfast."
"But I'm still hungry.  There's a McDonald's. It's right there. I see it."
"No."
"But I'm starving starving starving."

             "Where are we going?"
                     "We're going to..."
"I bet we're going to the library.  Last time I went to the library, we got a book and I lost it but then I found it and it's in my book shelf. It's on zebras." 

"You lost a book?

What book?"
"I don't remember. So are we going to the library? or for ice cream?" "Neither, we're going to..."
"Hey MOM! I can count by fives.  5-10-23.  Can you help me count by fives?" "Still hungry."
"What's seven plus 15?"
 "What is this a quiz?"
"Mommm! Can you count by fives with me?"
"5101520253035404550556065707580859095100 AMEN!"
"Mom! You said Amen! and we're not even doing prayers." Giggles start.  "She's not saying prayers." the other two start giggling.  "Amen!"  "5678910AMEN!"  "3 AMEN!"  "75 AMEN!" More giggles.

"Hey Mom?"
"What?"
"Where Are we going?" "22 Amen!" "55555Amen!" Giggle giggle giggle.

..."Mom?"

And I realize I honestly can't remember.
"Can we get lunch?"  "AMEN!"

**I made a wrong turn trying to get to my pediatrician's office of now going on 13 years as a result of attempting to remember all of this...the things I do for you people.

I'm Going to Have to Do This Ten Times?

My poor son has two choices for practicing driving; the little car --the Suburban, and the Mastodon, our 12 passenger van.   His course work was with Honda Civic that seated five.  As a result, there have been adjustments.   For example, his instructor said to pull halfway into the road, which if you do that with the van, you are all the way blocking.  So we've had to quarter the counsel he learned.   Breaking distance is the car length+seconds for your car's length, not the one in front of you.  It's a pain and an ongoing process for both of us.

I don't know if anyone else sucks in as if putting on tight jeans when their child hugs the curb and those mail boxes and trees look ever so closer than is comfortable; it's not like I'm going to make the van suck in and slenderize as it glides by the curb anymore than I'm going to become skinnier by exhaling hard while sucking in my stomach.  The reality is he has to drive this tank and so he must maneuver this tank.  It still stinks.

To his credit, he's a very careful driver.  Far more disciplined than I was at 15.  (Yes 15, I am probably the single reason that experiment died so quickly in Texas but that's another story).

The idea of trying to carve out 60 hours of drive time for ten separate children all of whom have their own personality quirks which will be exaggerated by the addition of a 3-4 ton (this) vehicle makes me reconsider whether or not  we really want to own a car or have drivers period.  Walking regardless of the weather suddenly has new found appeal.  

Then one of my friends faced with her own teenage driver talked about buying a third car.  I know we had one when I was a teen.  I know it would make teaching driving easier, but there are realities which one knows, once one embraces, have permanent consequences.  Paying for college, having a baby, buying a house, these are all moments of definition that will shape everything that follows.  Buying a third car. This would be one of those rubicons. 

I thought about the expense.  I thought about insurance.  I thought about parking on our drive way and manuevering out.  I thought about how it takes a Herculean effort to get the vehicles we have now serviced and one of them gets those sorts of things for free!  As I consider the hassle versus benefits calculation of even thinking about the idea, my mind gropes for an escape hatch, for something, anything other than this.  I can only think of one bribe possibly sufficient.

Hey son!  You know how you always wanted a dog?

Commuter Pop Quiz

Problem #1

Child A always sits in the front seat.

Child B and C are in the second row but not next to each other.

Child D sits in the third row, leaving a whole fourth row empty and two seats on either side.

Children E, F, G and H get in the car. E cannot sit near F or G or H and cannot sit in the far back row or Child E will start a fight. Child F will cry if placed in the back. Child H will also sulk if anyone at all sits in the same row, claiming to need more space.

How long before Mom decides making three separate trips to the school to pick up children is a viable alternative to the otherwise cantankerous ride home?

Explain your reasoning.

Problem #2

Why does it take 30 minutes to traverse the 6.63 miles to the Metro after 6:25 in the morning, but only 15 minutes starting even one minute before?

Follow Up: Why does it take less time to load 8 children into a van plus backpacks and lunches, allotting for possible trains to travel 10 miles to school, than to take one to the Metro?

Problem #3

Why does it take 45 minutes to successfully load the car with two toddlers and one baby and one adult, purse and diaper bag in order to get to school for pick up, but only 5 minutes for five children, two toddlers, one baby, one adult, six back packs, a purse and a diaper bag to disembark at home?

Please submit your answers in the comments questions. Suggestions welcome and if implemented, will be awarded extra credit.