this post you'll recall the efforts I go to to ensure that we all get out the door in one piece on Monday mornings. Last night when we went to bed, lunches were made, clothes were laid out, and three pairs of rubber boots were lined up and ready for the little feet that would fill them in the morning.
Winter decided to have a last hurrah and the snow blowing outside this morning encouraged me to put my kids in their snowboots instead. We got out the laneway 45 minutes later than usual, after a harrowing search for Violet's snowboots. After a thirty minute drive, I pulled into town with ten minutes to spare. Margot complained that her tummy hurt. I said in a singsong voice, "We'll be there soon!"
Not soon enough, apparently. As I turned into the parking lot, Margot barfed. And then again. Jude stretched out of his seat to see (because what's more exciting than looking at barf, really?), I roared at him to sit down, and then my mind did that mother thing, where it fast-forwards through the issue at hand to all the reverberations, and simultaneously finds solutions with lightning speed and clarity.
I dropped Violet off, raced to school, got Jude into the classroom, made notes for the supply teacher, then realised that Robin wouldn't have space to bring both Jude and Violet home (as he drives three neighbour children to school every day). I picked up Violet, then arranged for a friend to pick Jude up after school. I've washed the barfy clothes, coat, and blankie, and fed them lunch.
Now Violet is complaining of a sore tummy.
Bowl at the ready, movie on, child wrapped in cosiest afghan on the couch, I am ready for Round 2.
Bring it on.