Every day I do the same shuffle to get ready for the day, run around the house with a chicken without a head to get the boys off to school and get myself out the door. I try to be on time, I really do. I’m trying so hard that I started driving my son to school to ensure our early arrival. We live seven houses from the school, less than a seven minute walk, but driving did the trick. During the first quarter of the school year we only had one late (and I contested that) the second quarter 10. Still pretty good since last year we racked up 53 lates. I know, but progress, a little slippery slope but still progress.
But this post is not about how I suck at getting out of the house on time, that’s for another day. This post is about how I send my son off to school each day. How I suck at getting my child to school.
I drive him the seven houses for the convenience and because I can bolt to work right after the drop off. It works for me but I have a tremendous amount of guilt about it. Why? Because I do the drive by drop off, the valet service, the easy peasy drop off. I don’t drive him, park the car, hop out, walk him to the entrance, give him kisses, and peer through the little window of the school door to watch him as he walks down the hall. Nope, don’t do that.
I drive up, the security guard opens the door, my son hops out and drop off is DONE. But before I kick his ass out of the car, we give kisses, we talk about how a great a day it will be, I give him props, tell him he rocks, make some inappropriate bathroom jokes so he laughs (who doesn't want to start a day with a laugh?) and then I kick his ass outta the car. Every day I feel guilty that I don’t park the car and walk him to the door. In my defense, I do risk a sprained neck as I turn my head almost 360 degrees to watch as he enters the school, oh, and I also risk losing my voice three days a week as me and the littlest bugger giggle and yell through the window “hustle, hustle, hustle!” as my son slowly walks up the school path.
With all this guilt, you’d think that I’d get my ass out of the car and properly walk my son to the school entrance. But I can’t. The easy peasy drop off works for my life, and even though I’m choosing this path the guilt’s keep coming, especially when I watch all the other parents getting their asses out of their cars to walk their children to the door, the guilt gets thicker, and thicker, and thicker, every day. As the thick guilt covers my body like a gooey slim I start to speculate, and hope I’m not letting down my son, I hope that one day when he’s 19 he doesn't tell me that the reason why he’s not going to veterinarian school is because I didn't care enough to walk him to school every day.
Imagine the guilt’s I’ll have if I ever heard that?
But do I really need guilt about this? Guilt is a useless emotion, well, that’s what my therapist told me anyway.
Today as I sat on the valet line, the cars streamed in, and the parents got out of their cars hustling their kid to the school entrance, I saw in my rear view mirror bus after bus after bus pull in. And I started to sweat, thank goodness I don't have to put my son on the bus, imagine the guilts I'd have but wait...if I put him on a bus, he'd never be late!
Oy to the Vey.
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