This article was written by a member of the SheKnows Community. It has not been edited, vetted or reviewed by our editorial staff, and any opinions expressed herein are the writer’s own.
Running Late. Again
There's just something about watching your kids belt out a song at the top of their lungs that, I'm sure, carries some sort of life lesson. But at 7:55 this morning, I very nearly missed it.
We were running late (shocker, I know). But we weren't just someone-spilled-their-bowl-of-cereal late... we were everyone-overslept-and-two-kids-had-bloody-noses late. My kitchen pretty much looked like a murder scene straight from CSI this morning. Both of the older munchkins had toilet paper stuffed up their nose and I was trying, futilely as is happens, to remove white uniform shirts before the nose blood ruined them completely.
We. Were. Late.
Also? Sophie would NOT stop singing. I'm not talking humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star quietly in the corner. Oh no. This kid doesn't do ANYthing quietly. No, she was alternately leaping up on the footstool and then on to the kitchen counter, announcing her "stage" entrance each time in a great(tiny) booming voice. She was singing TV theme songs and cartoon title sequence music. She was making up songs about bloody noses and white shirts
"...and then they're ruuuuiiiiiiinnnneeddd...forevvvvvver moooooorrreee"
She was unstoppable. And later that's going to be really funny, I know. But at the time I was about to tear my hair out.
Somehow, by the grace of God, two boxes of Kleenex, and nearly an entire container of Clorox Wipes, we made it out the door. Needless to say I was flustered.
Until that Adele song came on.
We were about a block from the school where I drop 2/3 of The Munchkins off for YMCA each morning and we all heard the beginning notes of that song and the car hushed. The kids stopped bickering. It was like magic.
And now we were all singing. Loudly. Mostly in tune. At the top of our lungs. All of us.
And we turned into the parking lot, windows down, radio up, still singing.
And I parked the car, two cars down from a couple teachers pouring themselves out of their little roadster, like a clown car belching out people and canvas totes and travel mugs; and we were still singing.
And I reached out to turn the volume down and the car off, and Sophie says "But Mom...we're allREADY late"
So I just turned the sound up and left the windows down and we sang. And Isabelle's fisting her hands and beating her chest like she knows what the song's about. And Baz is using the brush (the one he was just using to doggedly slick back his hair, 1950s greaser style) as a microphone. And The Monkey's swaying back and forth, head tipped back, lyrics just tumbling out.
It's been a weepy sort of weekend on my end, so there's no (more) shame in telling you I almost teared up at the sight... I would have, really, if I hadn't been laughing so damn hard.
Sometimes, it pays to be late to work. Sometimes these random stolen moments in the car together, where we accidentally entertain parking lots full of people also
running late for work, are worth it.
Also? The teachers? The clapped for us when the song was over.
It's funny what no longer embarrasses me in public.