A few years ago I remember thinking, "If I have three kids in Scouts and three in soccer my head is going to pop off." This morning I was ferrying kids around, congratulating myself on the firmness with which my head remains attached to my neck despite the presence of three kids in Scouts and three in soccer. And then the wheels fell off.
The oldest had an all-day Scout service project on the northeast side of town; he was supposed to arrive at 8. The 11yo had a 9:00 soccer game on the southeast side of town; he was supposed to be there at 8:40. I was thinking we'd be pretty close to on time when I discovered the 11yo was still in his pajamas. This delayed us but not dreadfully, so that I got the 14yo to his service project at 8:15 (no biggie) and the 11yo to his game early.
He came running back to the van after a few minutes on the field. "Mom!" he panted. "I need to you to run home and bring me a hoodie and hat and gloves." Running home from the soccer field isn't much of an option -- it takes about 25 minutes each way. Luckily I had gloves in the van (thanks to Stella, who thinks a lady shouldn't leave home without her Spiderman gloves). I asked the coach if I could leave my coat on the bench for Marty to wear when he wasn't playing. "He's playing all four quarters today," the coach told me.
I headed home and told the 8yo to get dressed in warm layers. It was a nasty morning, chill and gray like November if November had fading forsythia. My plan was to catch the last few minutes of Marty's game and warm him up with a cup of tea at the nearby Panera. Then I'd drop Joe off for his 11:30 game and let my husband take over, picking up Joe and getting Pete to his 2:00 game.
Except it didn't work out the way I planned. The 11yo's game was cut short on account of rain and humiliation (for the other team -- Marty's crew won 8-0). Instead of seeing the last few minutes of play I found Marty alone, soaked and tearful. (FAIL FAIL FAIL. I reminded him that he could ask another parent to call me if something like that happened again, but still: FAIL.) He perked right up with that cup of tea, though, and I was feeling like things were back on track when Joe said, "How's Pete going to get to his game?"
You guys, I don't think I'm a stupid person but sometimes I have this hole in my brain where logistics should go. Like, I bet a dozen different times I've misread a bus schedule and waited at the stop for a bus that was due only in my imagination. What shall it profit it a woman to know the difference between "eximious" and "exiguous" if she cannot read a calendar?
I'd brought the wrong boy. The 11:30 game was Pete; the 2:00 game was Joe.
Days like this are when I question our choice to remain a one-car family. I raced home and handed off the figurative logistics hat to Elwood. (I donned the figurative dunce cap instead.) I apologized to Pete for making him late, and assured Stella that she didn't have to go anywhere else in the car for the rest of the day. (She's not a fan of three in Scouts and three in soccer either.) I think I could use a fortifying cup of tea myself. I'll have to see if we have any De-Stupidifying Delight. Or Brain Re-Organizing Brew. I'd like to take some of the real estate currently devoted to dinosaur factoids and re-assign it to logistics.
I'll let you know how it goes for me. Meanwhile I'd love to hear about your absent-minded exploits. Tell me I'm not the only one who's showed up at the right time with the wrong kid.
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