Suburban Goddess

When I dropped Alex off at daycare this morning, she was in a different room. I didn’t give it a second thought, but apparently geography is a very important subject to a three year old at 7:30am, because she had a complete meltdown.

“No, Mommy! I want CEREAL! CEREAL in THAT room!” she wailed, pointing down the hallway, despite that fact that there was a huge bag of cereal right next to her. I tried to explain it to her, but apparently the cereal in the BLUE room is far inferior to the cereal in the ORANGE room, because she would not listen to me for anything. After a few moments, I gave up and kissed my wailing child goodbye, shrugging apologetically to the teacher who looked at me with a “Dear God, you’re not going to leave her here like THAT” look.

Yes. Yes, I am.

I have to admit, as I walked out of the door, the guilt ate at me. I hate leaving my child in that state, always thinking that if I died, I wouldn’t want her to remember me walking away while she was upset. Thank you, Catholicism. Your fierce grip still wrings my heart at every opportunity.

There was a white car parked next to me, and I was slightly annoyed that the father unloading his child had his car door opened so I couldn’t leave. I stood near the front of the car, waiting for him to come around and close the door… as he did I gave him my best “oh, no, it’s perfectly okay” smile, feeling guilty that I was annoyed at this poor man who was trying to balance four children. As I looked in the door, I realized he’d closed it without getting the child out.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized, feeling even more like a spoiled brat.

“Oh no, it’s okay. He’s not cooperating anyway,” the father smiled. As I climbed into my vehicle, I mentally ran through all the things I had to be grateful about, and the number one thing waas that I only have one child to get out of my vehicle in the mornings. Right about that time, I looked around and realized the interior of my Jeep was now tan.

Only the interior of my Jeep is black.

As I looked around a little more, I noticed a Chevy emblem on the steering wheel, a bottle of water I don’t drink in the cupholder, and a picture of a man I’ve never seen before attached to the sunvisor.

As I slowly opened the door, forcing the dad to shut his again, I laughed nervously….

“Um… not my car….” I laughed as I walked around the white car to my Jeep on the OTHER side of it… I’m sure as I got into in, he understood how I could mistake a BIG BLACK TAHOE for a LITTLE BLUE JEEP.

Hey, it could happen to anybody.

This entry was posted on April 24, 2008 at 6:42 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.