As my children have gotten older and their activities have increased exponentially, I have come to realize that being a parent is equivalent to being a taxi-service. As a child, I never gave much thought about how I got from point A to point B. Piano lessons, cheerleading practice, girlfriends’ houses, the mall– anywhere I needed or wanted to go, I always had a ride.
It is part of the job. There is always something going on. Many evenings, more than one of the girls has somewhere to be, and it turns into an elaborate drop off/pick up system. It’s like a game, trying to figure out how to get them fed, when to get their homework completed, and how to get each girl where she needs to go on-time. Dance classes. Daisy Scouts. Basketball practice. Guitar lessons. Friends’ houses. Birthday parties. We have a calendar on the wall, and at times, I feel like Tom and I are maneuvering the girls through some magical labyrinth of childhood activities.
Tonight, Maggie is going to a birthday party. I literally had to leave work, rush home, change clothes, blog, wrap a present, feed the dog– all to throw the girls in the car so I can get Maggie to the Strongsville Rec by 5:30. On days like today, I yammer about how I don’t feel like I have even one second to breathe. Exasperated, I look around. The laundry is piling up. The house needs cleaning. The satires in my book bag need grading. Stress becomes paramount, and I think, “When will I get it all done?”
However, it does all get done, eventually. Does it matter if it all gets done when I think it should? No. What really matters to me is that the girls have a fulfilling childhood. Thus, when I complain, I hope no one listens. I really do love the bustle of activity and the joy it brings the girls.
In the not too distant future, they won’t need me in this manner any longer. I better enjoy every second of their company while I can– even if, at times, it feels like it is just in Mom’s taxi.