I am sitting calmly with a cup of coffee and my computer, letting my frantic son figure out how he is going to get to school this morning. It's not as easy as it looks. He missed his bus, something that happens a little too often, and his father and I have agreed to let him work it out for himself. I really just want to drop everything and take him, but that would not be such a great favor to either of us. He needs to put down his ipod and get ready in the morning and I need time to prep things before the other kids wake up. On the days when I rescue him, I neither exercise nor write, having instead to jump right into hungry kids when I get home from the 30 minute ordeal of traffic and (mostly) bad music in the car.
I love the extra time with him, and even the bad music. Subjecting me to it in the car is his way of sharing with me what he loves most; music, in all its varieties and with all the horrors it can also engender (screamo, anyone?) I love seeing his taste evolve and become more complex with years of listening and playing.
I also love to be home and ready for the littles, the house straight and school things out and ready. It's nice to have fresh muffins or bread made when they wake up. Life is full of choices, and some of them tear you right in half.
Ah, one down for today; he just went out the door; he found a ride with a friend. Perfect. Now I can make blueberry muffins with Charles, get the paper unrolled for our timeline and even spend a minute on the trampoline. What a great start to the day.