Today was the first day Jax got to ride the bus home. THE BUS! This is, and I am not exaggerating, comparable to Christmas for Jax. He gets to ride the bus home on Fridays, and this was Day 1. I prepared for this – it is in my calendar, I called the bus driver to confirm. And I told Jax that I would be waiting for the bus, for him, at the end of the driveway.
I went to work, then looked at some office space we already decided that I need (because, again, I’m a blogger now), and say, Hey, I have some time, let’s go have a snack at Postino’s! Friday! Office Space! School Bus! Bruschetta! So off I went with my amigas to have a snack and a glass of wine. Paid the bill, laughing, talking, plenty of time…and the text comes that says, “Jax should get dropped off any minute!”
WHAT???? It’s only 2:45!!! They said 3:20! OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG.
I am going to miss the bus my child is on because I had a glass of red blend instead of heading home. I am a deranged, lunatic of a mother who chose wine over her son. Mother of the Year? How about Lady Douchebag of the Year. I am calling CPS on myself. I practically have the number on speed dial.
Kudos to my girlfriends, man. They flew out of that place with me, were not even slightly embarrassed when I announced to the entire valet line that I had an emergency and had to cut in front of them, and made me laugh as I was tearing up, and about a 3-2-1 from a breakdown. Jumped into Stacy’s car, got to where I was parked, yelled at the red light, loudly cursed at the 15 children in the crosswalk, read the GO BECCA GO texts from my friends (I am sure they pulled over to send these), and raced home like Danika Patrick (but I didn’t look as good – and I doubt she swears at kids in a crosswalk).
I made it. THANK YOU GAWD I MADE IT. I made it with about 1 tiny minute to spare, but I was there, at the end of the driveway, when Jax stood smiling at the top of the steps, orange backpack in place, and yelled “Mom! I rode the bus home!” And I was there when he jumped down the steps and ran right into my arms. EXHALE.
Then my guilt and I handed him my iPad, let him play Temple Run, and baked cookies (from Costco cookie dough – hey, I am who I am).
Rebecca Masterson is a writer, speaker, and an advocate for children. For more from Rebecca, follow her on Instagram.