"I know," I replied, as I pulled her closer.
Ten hours earlier the scene unfolding in our home was far less peaceful but equally raw.
In a rare twist, today I found myself scheduled to work a quick Montreal turn around.
The plan, if executed with precision and timing, would have me drop my children off an hour early at their new school, at 7:30, allowing me to double back and find myself at Pearson International Airport for a 9:00am check in. I would be returning for pick up that evening at 17:15.
Piece of cake, right?
That should have been the case. For many children and families, this is THE NORM. Day in and day out. Monday to Friday, 9-5.
For us, it just isn't. It never has been (I thank my lucky stars for this).
It never will be (I have made life choices to ensure this)
Our lives are built and balanced on this....they were as an "in tact" family and remain so as a "broken one".
In a perverse way and for all of its inconsistencies, my schedule has provided a foundation of presence, flexibility, and dependability, which, when compromised, reeks havoc on "our normal".
To say that this morning was chaotic would be a gross understatement.
To say that it was comical (in hindsight) is undeniable.
All my children had to do, was sleepily slide into their uniforms and gingerly walk through the front doors at 07:00, into our family vehicle.
There they could eat their breakfast, put on their ties, snuggle under a blanket and perhaps choose a playlist for their twenty minute ride to school. Sounds good, doesn't it?
Of course it does, if you live in the land of delusional perfection.
Best way to describe and process how it played out?
Well for starters, I am sitting here at 3 am contemplating it, so that should be a hint.
Lets begin with the fact that five minutes before "scheduled departure time", my youngest was face down on the wood floor in her pajamas, refusing to get dressed.
For those who do not know, my youngest is NOT a small toddler who can be dressed and soldier carried out of the front door. Those days have long since passed.
She is almost as tall as I am, twice as feisty and highly motivated *
( *see the first sentence of this post).
I know I was patient, except for exclaiming moments before our departure time, that I was going to lose it if we didn't meet "on time performance".
I am not really sure what others would do in my shoes and I am not really sure that I care.
All I know, is that my office... is a moving mode of transportation.
There is NO showing up "a few minutes late".
There is no human element, unless I am facing catastrophic circumstances.
Simply put, I am a number and unless I am in a ditch somewhere (God forbid) I am expected to be there.
Come hell or high water.
I also know, that if ever I were to be in a ditch, I would be required to present appropriate ditch occupying documentation, along with my first born and passwords to all of my bank accounts (metaphorically speaking).
After relenting and getting dressed, my youngest (and sassiest) then stalled for a good five minutes at the front door, while attempting to style her hair.
It was at this point, that I guided that little body out of the front door, along with the shoes she was refusing to put on. I then promptly shut that door and locked it.
SHUT.THE FRONT DOOR. literally and for real.
The madness didn't stop there.
She stomped to the car in her sock feet , lay down in the back seat with her head hanging out of the door (effectively preventing me from closing it), and continued to do her hair.
This is when I raised my voice and in no uncertain terms stated how little I cared who heard me.
She sat up, and proceeded to throw her knee socks out of the window. She made two attempts to leave the car and go back into the house.
I collected her discarded socks off of my front lawn (or so I thought, and yes, I did this in my three inch patent heels with red lipstick glowing in the dark).
I then jumped into the driver's seat and finally, "pushed back".
Next was an objection to seatbelts. A neighbour patiently waited behind me as I pulled over, jumped out, reached across the back seat and locked her in. Safety, after all, is number one.
Finally my youngest relented, though sockless, tieless, and shoeless, she began to drink her smoothy and eat her toast that had been (carefully and lovingly) prepared for her in advance.
I did briefly cry, while observing the parking lot on the highway in the opposite direction that I was meant to face after dropping my girls off.
My oldest may or may not have shed a tear in solidarity. We then settled on some old school Dr Dre to take the edge off and made our way to school. (California dreaming, baby)
What can I say?
There is and was nothing perfect about this scenario, but I am certain it was authentic.
I know for sure that I am grateful for the twenty minute drive, because frayed nerves and emotions mostly had a chance to mellow.
Hugs, kisses and goodbyes were genuine, tears were dried, frustration (mostly) had subsided.
Despite my best efforts, my youngest went to school with her tie crooked, one sock on and one sock off (apparently another sock was thrown out of the window which I missed).
We said our "I love you's", I got to work on time, and all that was well ended well.
I hope this will never be our "new normal", should it ever be, we now know, that we are resilient enough to make our way through the days, even the super challenging ones, still loving one another, giving grace and forgiveness when we aren't at our best and always talking openly about our struggles.
And no matter what, at day's end, we share the unspoken feelings in our heart and kiss one another goodnight.
