The Road Often Traveled (or Time Well Spent)

The Conner Carpool

August 3, 1999 – May 29, 2014

Dear Carpool,

We have shared countless hours as we traveled a bazillion miles together along the same route from home to school to home (especially from fall 2005 to January 24, 2010, when the kids were at two different schools).

Chuck has always enjoyed taking the kids to school in the mornings, so you and I bonded every afternoon for 15 years. In the beginning, you shepherded the girls at Girard Elementary, while the little brother typically napped in his car seat. Then, the school zones changed, and I visited with you at Landmark Elementary and later at Montana Street, in the line that made the entire square around the block. I would work on my weekly Bible study lessons while waiting with you.

Remember when Emma told me she wished I would get a job, so that she could go to Extended Day and play on the playground with her friends whose moms worked?

Remember when Abby spent some of her book fair money to buy a little Cat in the Hat to hang from the rearview window, so my white Dodge Grand Caravan would be recognizable from all the other white Dodge Grand Caravans in your line? Remember how queasy it made me at first, swinging back and forth, but how I couldn’t take it down, because it was such a thoughtful gift?

Remember when a crying Phillip slammed the van door and declared, “This was the worst day of my life!!! First, it rained, so we couldn’t go out to recess, then I COULDN’T GET MY STRAW IN MY JUICE BOX!!!!” Remember how the girls and I held back the squalling laughter and pretended to mourn with him over his No Good Very Bad Day?

Remember Gas Station Fridays?

Remember when Chuck got a new truck and sold my van and gave me the Yukon XL to drive? Remember all those curbs I jumped?

Remember how we listened to Miley Cyrus/Hannah Montana sing, “I’ve got the be-e-est of both worlds” on Radio Disney every day for the entire three years that the girls went to Carver Middle School? Remember how I thought I was gonna self-destruct if I ever heard that song again?

Remember that I brought Gracie home, too, and that she was the only one who would give me the middle school gossip?

Remember how the middle school girls categorized the other middle schoolers?

Plastics – The kids who think they’re all that

Paper Bags – The kids who wish they were Plastics

Normal Kids – Well, as “Normal” as middle school kids can be 

Wall Ballers – The kids who are so outcast that they actually play wall ball at break or PE (and don't care about the opinions of the kids in "higher" categories)

Remember how embarrassed Normal-Kid Emma was that Abby was a Wall Baller?

Remember when the girls instituted the Boys in the Back rule? Remember how they hollered it every time Phillip and a friend got in the car? (The rule still exists today, even though the boys’ legs are so long that they tangle in the back seat, yet the boys have never thought to question The Word of the Sisters.)

Remember, "Sure, my mom will take you home. BOYS IN THE BACK!”?

Remember how my autopilot went from band practice to Bradley’s house to home on Tuesday and Thursday evenings during football season?

Remember how I got out and walked around to the passenger’s side every day at Northview High School this year and asked, “Do you have your permit?”

Do you remember all that, Carpool? I do. I remember every bit of it.

We’ve been a good team, you and I, for a long time. And now we’re parting ways.

I doubt I’ll miss you, but I will always remember you fondly. I sure am grateful that I had the privilege of knowing you.

Rest in peace, Carpool.

Sincerely,

Mommy

The Long LA Winter

Perhaps this has been pondered before today, and I’ve missed the discussion. If so, please forgive and/or ignore me. I typically run 5 minutes behind, so I might be just be late to the conversation.

It’s not a complaint, merely a perusal. August is far too hot in Lower Alabama for it to be a complaint.

I noticed the brisk temperature this morning when I sent The Boy to school, but it didn’t occur to me until several hours later, when I ventured forth from my cozy house and was assaulted by an Alabama arctic blast. I turned around, went back inside, grabbed a jacket, and covered my springtime pedi with socks and tennis shoes.

My revelation was this: I think I know why the South is still blanketed in 50-degree temps on May 15, 2014. And I think it’s all our fault. Oh, we’d love to blame El Nino, La Nina, or even Al Gore, but the blame is not theirs.

Walt Disney is partially responsible, but not solely. Nope. I share the burden of guilt. And so do you. And not because we use aerosol sprays and drink out of Styrofoam Chickfila cups. Nope. We caused this long winter every time we sang with Elsa.

Elsa, the Snow Queen, created an eternal winter to fall on her country of Arendelle in the Disney movie Frozen. She ignited a blizzard that turned the whole place into ice.

Did we mourn for her people? Did we pause to think how we would shiver in similar circumstances?

No, we did not. Instead, we enthusiastically encouraged her to “Let it go. Let it go. Be at one with the wind and snow.” We belted out repeatedly and emphatically, “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway.” We smiled at each other and sweetly chirped “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

We wagged our mittened fingers in the face of an icy Disney princess, and now we are paying our frosty dues.

I am afraid we’re in for a chilly summer. I’m afraid that Olaf, indeed, will be a happy snowman.

Personally, I wish he were a puddle.