The school drop off process in and of itself is enough to make me have an anxiety attack each and every day. Anyone who does it knows exactly what I am talking about. Hundreds of frantic parents being herded into a single file line in the “drop off zone.” All of them (including me) are desperately trying to get in and get out as fast as humanly possible. It’s awful.
Timing is huge too. If you stop and open the door too soon and happen to be somewhere “in the middle,” you hope and pray that one of your children doesn’t have some last minute crisis that requires your immediate concern and/or intervention. Why? Because if this happens, there you sit. Every parent that is stuck behind you immediately hates you. All of the cars in front of you have left. “Look at all that vacant space up there lady!” All of the cars behind you are waiting for you to either leave or at the very least pull up closer to the door. “Get your ass moving you idiot, we have a life!”
This was me two days ago. I was the idiot. Pulling forward wasn’t an option for me anymore. I had already made the decision to put the van in park, open the doors, and had told my children to unbuckle and proceed to the nearest exit. My youngest child jumped out without incident (She’s in Kindergarten. Life is “unicorns and rainbows” good.). My older child was stalling, and very intently watching two girls outside (whose parents had made them get out from the back of the pack because they were obviously sick of waiting for me). It was clear she wanted to avoid them.
I couldn’t let this one go. I ask, “What’s wrong honey? Do you not get along with those girls?” Her response, “Well, one of them is mean to me sometimes mommy.” Keep in mind that I still have 30 cars behind me whose drivers and passengers now not only hate me, but have certainly fast tracked me to the tippy top of their death wish list.
Of course I don’t have time to go into a long explanation of how some kids can be mean sometimes and that she should just try to ignore them, etc., etc. There is so much that I want to say to her (much of it she has already heard), but there is no time for that. I want to bring her home with me and spend the whole day telling her how awesome she is and how proud I am to be her mom (It’s true.).
Instead, I give her a kiss and a hug from my driver’s seat and tell her to keep her chin up and have a great day. I then watch her exit the van with a heavy heart and proceed to slowly sulk into the school.
My heart is broken. I want to roll my window down as I’m driving away and scream at the mean girl, “Leave my daughter alone you little bitch! You don’t know who you are dealing with!” But I don’t. She is already inside.
It’s days like these that I seriously wonder if I should start homeschooling my children for the sole purpose of protecting them from the “mean people of the world.” I know that this is unrealistic. I know that there are mean people everywhere and that I can’t really do anything about it in the grand scheme of things. I also don’t want to be lumped into the category of “weird homeschooling moms.” Don’t roll your eyes at me. I am not suggesting that all homeschooling moms are weird. You know exactly who I am talking about, and if you don’t, then you are probably one of them and we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one.
I am a control freak. I have no control. Mean girls suck. And therefore I drink too much wine.