Dear Me and You, Point A to B to C to D to A

Dear Me and You,

Today was a fucking shit-show, which literally included me sending the wrong text to my friends that included the words “shit-show.”

My van, the minivan, the mom-mobile, the 2021 Honda Odyssey, has been exactly what I wanted in so many ways. I’ve enjoyed the utility. I value that our 85 pound dog has enough room to stand and stretch out. I’m absolutely elated when I can pick up extra kids for playdates, flooding the cabin with squeals, smiles, and singing. I am grateful the grandparents can easily climb in and to join our adventures.

Yes, I’m a proud minivan owner.

However, there have been problems with my beloved van and it’s been less than ideal to engage with the dealership, to give up my van for days here and there, to arrange how everyone is going to get from point A to B to C to D to A– it’s a shit-show. So, when I got the call yesterday that the “district tech” was available at 8:00 am today it was a conglomeration of an about-god-damn-time and oh-fuck-how-am-I-going-to-get-everyone-where-they-need-to-be feeling. I text my mother-in-law for support, and she said yes. Phew. There’s a plan.

Well, she was due to arrive at 7:30 this morning, and at 7:00 this morning I got a text, “I was hoping I would feel better but there’s no way I can be there this morning.” And now I was feeling a mixture of I-hope-she’s-going-to-be-okay and what-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-do. I call my husband, who has already been at the office for about an hour and the best we can come up with is: load up the stroller and walk home from the dealership– just over two miles.

I finish feeding everyone, including the dog and that damn fish and excluding myself. Mom-life. Pack lunch. Pack snacks for our “morning walk.” Do hair. Assist in dressing. And make time to brush my teeth, wash my face, and pour myself some cold brew. We exit the house in a frenzy. I drive, in my van, from Point A to Point B (Tessa’s school), then to C (they can keep Sloan longer if I need them to), then to D, which is the dealership. We grab the essentials and say goodbye to our beloved vehicle. The walk is fine. I call a mom-friend, asking if she can pick up Tess from point A at early release time, and I discover she’s home caring for a sick kid. Damn. I have another mom-friend in mind but before I can call her my phone vibrates, it’s a text from that mom-friend, “Hey I’m struggling to move a meeting. Can you pick up my kid today?” I literally laugh out loud– what is going with today?! I respond, telling her the situation. We wish each other good luck.

I call my mom. She’s driving to work. I start the conversation, “Mom, it’s too much. Being an adult. Dude. So many moving parts always. It’s too much. Are you in the car?” My mom replies, “Perfect timing, I’m driving to work. What’s going on?” I update her and I’m a bit weepy, feeling a bit defeated and sad because I’m building a network and today it feels like that network has let me down– so it goes. My mom without much pause says, “Let me see how early I can leave work. I will update you.” I struggled to hear her because Daphne was screaming, “Out! I walk!” I ask my mom, “Do you mean leave work early to come up here?!” My mom says, “Yup. Okay take a deep breath. Talk soon.”

My mom, who works in Orange County, showed up at my house in enough time for me to take her car to Point B to pick up Tessa from her short day and pick up Sloan from Point C. My mom stayed long enough, so I could drive Sloan to Hap Kido (a point I hadn’t even factored into the day that afternoon. And she stuck around to take Brendan back to Point D, the dealership, to retrieve our carseats and mini-toilet, so he could install them into our rental, which is not a minivan.

Today included some serious moments of overwhelm.

Today included some moments of stress.

Today I’m thankful that my mom knew I needed her before I did.

We made it through another day, me and you. Kudos.