The Long Walk… to School
“Let’s go.”
“Don’t make me ask again.”
“Your coat — please get your coat on! It’s 37 degrees outside.”
School starts in 9 minutes. And we can’t find one shoe.
The elementary school is only about 500 yards away. I can almost see the field from the street corner.
Yet, yesterday we were late.
My daughters had to check in at the principal’s office because they missed their classes walking in. Today will be better.
We leave the house. Before we reach the sidewalk, my daughter pokes my son in the eye. It’s not clear why — but I’m sure he did something mean to her first.
Moving forward, our neighbors join us on the sidewalk with their three kids. Her boys are in my daughters’ grades. We shuffle up to the street light. Our oldest kids start playing 20 questions, falling behind us.
I grab my son’s hood as he tries to walk into the intersection. Cars speed past in another reality.
My neighbor asks how my writing is going. She knows that I started this a few weeks ago.
I didn’t want to mention that I don’t have many followers, a rough-looking blog, and an idealistic goal to give the maternity leave experience a voice. To see parental leaves treated as an important right instead of a work perk.
So instead, I say it’s fun.
That I like learning how the industry works. What it feels like to participate in this ‘creator economy.’ Why I started pulling out business terms - I don’t know.
Screaming starts. My daughters are arguing about who owns a geoid. I don’t see a rock and am curious how they got ahead of us on the walk. What happened to the game of 20 questions?
“We’ll talk about this at dinner” — the best console I can come up with.
Blank faces glare at me. They know I’m deflecting. That tactic worked last year. Now I need a new one.
We arrive at the field and get a second wind. My girls run ahead to get in their class lines. Seeing their friends refocuses them. They start smiling again.
Meanwhile, I walk my son to his kindergarten teacher. He runs into the play area without looking back. Success.
I turn around to head home. My younger daughter runs back and asks for a hug. She wraps her arms and legs around me. Then she runs off again.
Sometimes I wish we lived further from school. This walk is the highlight of my day.
Key message: Slowing down and enjoying the everyday chaos is where the joy of parenting is found.
