Yesterday I was driving behind a man wearing an enormous hat. This hat was so big that if it had been yellow, I would have expected him to be followed by a curious little monkey. He was stopped at a green light, waiting for the left. The light turned yellow and he continued to wait. Then red, still waiting. Perhaps his monkey was curious about something that required his attention in lieu of actually watching the road! I sat behind him, silent screaming “Goooooooo!!!” all the while watching the clock clicking ever closer to Nanny departure time. It occurred to me, there are people in this world who are not always in a hurry? What in the hell does that feel like? I honestly can’t remember.
I have a faint recollection of those pre-kid Saturday mornings of leisure. Before we had grass to cut and swimming lessons to attend. Should we go out for breakfast or eat in? Should we take a walk or go shopping? How about an impromptu drive to the mountains for the day? Choices, options, whimsy! Oh my!
Now I feel that I’m always on the sprint but someone keeps moving the finishing line. Geez dude! Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sprint a whole marathon?
Weekday mornings we used to drink our coffee, read the paper (now that’s called “looking at your phone” for those of you born after 1995) and eventually get ourselves to the office with plenty of time to spare. With kids added to the equation and there is now seemingly never enough time.
It’s like the scene where the Wicked Witch of the West turns over the hourglass and I, like Dorothy, only have an hour before those creepy flying monkeys will tear me to shreds for the ruby slippers (for the record, if those are Louboutin ruby slippers the f$&@ing monkeys are going to have to pry them from my dead feet). We race through the morning chaos with the sceptre of the school bell hanging over us like that green crone with an aversion to water.
No matter how much sleep everyone gets, we’re always shaking the kids awake. I find myself saying things like “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey”. I mean c’mon, only someone completely unglued says such ridiculous things! It’s amazing. We can set out clothes and pre-pack lunches the night before but that hour before school is always a quest for lost library books and show and tell treasures.
I say the words “eat”, “get dressed”, “where are your shoes”, “yes, you have to wear pants” repeatedly until we are finally out the door. I think it would be most efficient if I just recorded myself repeating these lines over and over again and just playing them on a loop. Then at least I’d have time to drink more coffee.
At 8:45am we’re off, if we’re lucky. I personally think that my speed walking skills since the kids started school are practically Olympic level. The trouble is that I can only get about half a block when I have to stop and wait for them to catch up. “Look Mom, a snail.” 
Once the littles are carefully and tenderly deposited at each of their classrooms, I start my day. Now I really get to train as THE 2020 Speed Walking gold medallist. If that race is 4 blocks, I will KILL it! Multi-tasking like any other self-respecting Mom, I email, text and phone call my way back home. All the while following the walking version of the Man in the Big Hat from the traffic light. Oh look, he found a snail too. Seriously dude, you need to move it!
I know you know. We’re all doing it, except for hat guy of course and all those childless millennials who are binge-watching Netflix. I binge watch too – between 9-9:30pm every night. So there.
the rock and roll mom on the move 