Vamos

When the kids were little, I found that on many days the idea of leaving the house was optional.  From late Spring to early Fall, I remember spending days at home, enjoying the light shifting and crawling throughout the house and air welcomed through curtains billowing and dancing with the breeze. Brisk mornings, warmed with activity until the dewy end of the the day when we all smelled like iron earth from a day mingling with the lawn and park and flower beds. 

(I exclude Winter from these memories because the entire season always felt like us huddling for warmth during the 2 hours of light eked out in a day-and mind you, light does not mean sun in Indiana, it just means an illumination of the slate gray sky.)

It feels like so long ago that  mother and child met quietly in darkened nursery, pulling back drapery from the window, light spilling greedily into every crack and crevice of the room.  Snuggled puppy breath. Over to changing table to freshen up.  (I used to sing as I opened the door 'Your-n Urine'...tacky, I know.)  Onward, to kitchen. Fill a bottle, break bread, nibble and smear.  Cheerios pinched by fat, slobbery fingers.  We get dressed, we find activity.  A little work, a little play.  A stroll outside.  Roll in the grass.  Push a swing.  Fold some clothes.  Slumber.  Regroup.  Reset.  The day is stretching to maturity.  Family dinner.  Dishes.  Feet slapping along the warm wood floors, blocks stacked and crashed.  Bath time.  Bedtime.  Aahh... peace.

I look back on this, now, as children have been added to the equation and growth has propelled us all forward into ravenous schedules with responsibilities seeking a juggler. Meeting teachers. Backs packed.  Lunch box love notes.  Homework tears.  Dance practice.  Recital.  Friendships.  Appointments and employment pasted around what used to be spare time.  Everything has quickened and the demands accelerate, and what is the biggest challenge of all?

Getting everyone in the van.

"C'mon, guys, get your shoes on...where are your shoes?  Well, you need at least one for each foot.  Why are they so muddy?  Is that mud?  Oh, I hope that's mud.... Go to the bathroom...yeah, I know you don't have to go, but we call it "insurance potty"; your bladder has had notoriously bad timing.  I know you're not cold now, but please bring your coat, just in case.  No, I don't want to carry it!  You carry it.  Ok, fine.  But, if you're cold, I don't want to hear any crying about it.  Wait! What is that?  You do not need 16 books for a 15 minute drive.  I know it's your favorite...how about just two?  Did you forget something?  It's on the kitchen counter.  Where is everyone?  I have three kids and I need four.  Why is she outside already?  Ok, then, I think we're ready: Let's get in the van!"

In the time it takes for me to grab a handbag, the shoes that never made it on number 4, and a sloshing cup of lukewarm tea, I awkwardly pull the front door shut to turn and find children who have apparently lost their way.  They are spinning in a kaleidoscope of activity.  They run around the van.  They climb snowbanks.  They are sword fighting with tree branches.  They are scaling the tree for more branches.  Look!  They found a nest!  They find a 2-inch puddle with magnetic properties that demand attention.  My personal favorite is when I find them running in the street.  They have a need to chase each other in a real-life game of Frogger, or at least on a mission of public humiliation for any peeking neighbor who are still wondering if I do, in fact, have control, or if they have need to notify the proper authorities.


Occasionally, they do make it into the van.  I know this happens because before I can spill the tea on my shoes as I close the front door I can hear the sound of shrill battles being fought over seating arrangements, or who gets in first.  They will walk on the seats or walk on each other or walk on the seats AND each other.  Sometimes, someone will "accidentally" fall into "the way back" and I must retrieve them from the tailgate as I grumble and mumble and try to maintain control so as not to attract the attention of aforementioned neighbors, phones in hand with speed dials set to CPS.

I have a dream.  I have a dream that one day my children will walk to the van with dignity and treat each other with "shot gun" equality.  That they will check for mud on their shoes and look where they are walking before trampling various elements of clothing or school materials.  They will talk quietly and politely so that I can focus on my 10-and-2 defensive driving skills.  They will buckle their seat belts without being asked five times and will shut the door, instead of sitting there like the UPS man, ready to spill out onto the asphalt with my first left-hand turn.

Maybe....someday....  A mom can dream...

Although, it may be chaotic, maybe even borderline embarrassing, at times, to accomplish something so simple, we are getting where we need to go.  I guess that's the goal, oh...that, and having both shoes.