Laps In The Driveway

If you have read my last entries, you will have learned that getting out of the house is a Herculean task for me.  By the time I even make it to the porch, so much has gone down that I look a mess and I'm exhausted.  I stopped checking the time in the mornings because it just stresses me more.  I go as fast as I can under the circumstances and no matter how late it is, that's not going to make me be able to move this along any faster.

I hope someday to see the video of me attempting to get out of the driveway.  Someone must have footage of this by now because it's a spectacle every morning.  The whole thing can probably be heard for a 3 block radius at least.  I emerge from my house a mere shell of the woman I once was and the woman I can still be when I'm able to shower and get ready without interruption.

Even if we are expecting perfect weather, the instant I walk out my front door it changes to rain, snow and heavy winds.  (I'll admit this is probably not a fact, but it does seem this way).  Atop brick steps with a baby who has slid down to my knee, my arms impossibly full, wearing heels and blinded by a lock of hair that always blows over and stays across my eyes I attempt my descent to the driveway.  Halfway there, I look down at my daughter who has now slid down to the point that her arms are sticking straight up in the air and her face is barely peeking out of the top of the jacket.  If you are a parent, you know what I'm talking about.  She just looks up at me expressionless as she dangles from my grip - feet nearly scraping the ground.  This leads me to a question: why are baby coats so slippery?  Maybe they should consider making them out of Velcro or something for the safety of the child.

Reading this, you might think from my doorstep to my driveway is a half-a-mile.  It sure feels that way, but it's only actually 30 feet at the most.  Just the same, I'm sweating and about to drop everything so thank God I only have a few more steps to the van.  Let me just get this door open with my pinkie finger ....and it's locked.  The keys are probably in my purse which I can't reach from all the crap I'm holding.  I put it all down, except for the baby because her shoes are off again.  Search my purse and no keys.  Back into the house with baby in tow.  The boy is just running around out there.  No point in trying to stop him.

Back out the door and to the van. I open the door and I try to hook her in while she kicks me in the face and screams for her movie.   The car seat straps are always too tight even though it's the same child in the same coat every single day.  I load up the bags, start the car, put the movie on and try to get the boy to get in.  After some yelling, screaming, crying and bribery he climbs in and tramples everything with his muddy feet.  He doesn't miss a thing.  All the toys, bags, spare clothes, extra socks, shoes and flip flops (only one of each kind) have been crushed and muddied.  I don't even care.

I get in the drivers seat for the first time in a series of many attempts to get out of the driveway.  I put it in reverse and my back tires make it all the way to the street when I realize I forgot my phone.  I pull back in the driveway, hop out and run into the house to find my phone.  Back out to the van, buckle up again and back out of the driveway.  I get almost out and pull back in because I see I've left the dog outside.  Run in, let the dog in and accidentally let the cat out.  Fetch the cat, put it in the house and back to the van.  Buckle up and put it in reverse and pull back in.  Finally noticed my lunch bag was empty.  Run in, throw together some randomness for lunch and back out the door.  Buckle up, throw it in reverse and back into drive because I forgot my laptop.  At this point I don't even care that I only have on one earring, it's just going to have to do.  The poor kids must be carsick by the time we actually get onto the street!!