Best Laid Plans

I’ve been holding onto this one for over a week, but today one week later, the whole post still seems relevant:

Quintessential Monday morning mayhem/comedy of errors in Little House. Our problems are so incredibly first world, at times, it is almost too hard for me to write about, because in all honesty, they are pretty trite. However, this morning, this beautiful Monday morning, September 19th, 2011 was a real tour de force of ineptitude.

After the cups of coffee had been drank and the cereal eaten, beds made, the school lunches packed and the work bag filled, and all other morning routines filled, the Big S announced that we’d all be riding our bikes to work and school today (I was already running late for work, so what was another few minutes behind?). Kids were excited, full of cheers and mommy was less than thrilled, but a willing volunteer. I ran upstairs and grabbed some socks and a sweat shirt, while the Big S helped to transfer my work gear into a backpack. With little eloquence and a lot of stumbling we filed out the door, grabbing our helmets along the way. The trailer bike was a-fixed to my bike, Little S opted for a scooter, and Big S grabbed his bike. My torn bike seat was really wet, so I ran inside and grabbed a plastic bag, locking the door on the way out. Then Little O’s hands were cold, so the door was unlocked, gloves were grabbed, and we were another step closer to leaving. Once we were outside the front gate, I realized that my tires were flat. So, Big S grabbed the pump and proceeded to fill the tires. Little S’s new backpack was too heavy, so her daddy came to the rescue and took her bag, and she inherited Little O’s bag. I’m pretty sure I’m omitting the muffled grumbles and groans that were flowing from my late exasperated mouth, as this whole process was at least another twenty minutes. Seeing as I was already running late, I was mentally calculating how late I was going to have to stay at work to make up the time (which as if it wasn’t obvious already, was adding to my grouchiness).

8am came and went. We were all ready to go. Me and the kids started out, down the alley to the bike route, ready to cross at the lights….ready to cross at the lights, I turned back, and Big S was nowhere in sight. We waited. Probably only minutes, but felt like ages. What the hell was happening? Where was the leader of this rag-tagged fugitive fleet? Cyclist came and crossed. The light turned red, then green, then red again. Still no husband. Grumble, explicative, grumble. Turn the bikes around, head back towards the house, get back to the house, and there in the driver seat of the car is one Big annoyed S. Apparently, someone had removed the pin to his back wheel, and when he went to ride away, off came the wheel. In a less than impressed voice directed towards the little member of this family, both parents turned and stared at the big blue innocent eyes of youth, who nodded and turned his flushed face away from the accusatory tones. Rascal, I mean what else are we really going to say, there were a lot of words swimming around inside my head, but none of them seemed particularly appropriate.

It was nearing 8:30am. The kids were due at school. I had work to get to. Bikes were dismounted and locked-up. Everyone piled into the car and off we went. Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow. Then again, maybe not.

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