Warning

As I am sure is true about a lot of cities, there are certain times of the day where it is virtually impossible to get from point A to point B in a given amount of time.  The witching hour for our neck of the woods is 4:00 pm on a weekday.  Everybody and their dog, laptop, soccer ball, or ballet shoes has someplace they need to be.

I've been spending an extraordinary amount of time in the car during the past month.  My schedule is so full I want to cry.  It's partly my doing, as I wanted to cram trips into the most compact schedule possible, piggy-backing every class I could so that I could build up the largest chunk of at-home school-time hours I could, but ultimately I am at the mercy of the class schedule in the first place as I have to work with what I get.  If it were up to me, I would not be on the road during the witching hour.

Tuesday is the tightest commute day, and Wednesday is so full I'm wearing a stopwatch and barking out new move-out orders every half hour, it seems.  On Tuesdays, I have exactly 30 minutes to transport Rylan from her Lego Robotics team practice at point A to her tumbling class at point B.  In between these points is several miles of green space as they are in different cities. This requires that I get her out of the door on time at point A (hasn't happened yet, as Lego is fun), and that I drive with laser-sharp focus to navigate the minivan-choked roads to get to point B.  I've tried three different routes, and the interstate "seems" the quickest, provided there is no massive miles-long traffic jam, slowing down to check out the vehicle pulled over on the shoulder TO CHANGE A TIRE. *WOW*

This past Tuesday I was paid a personal visit by a state trooper on the side of a very busy three lane highway during the commute from point A to point B.  I had just pulled off the interstate, gone through a couple of intersections, and was just pulling through another one - after stopping for a red light - when lights fired up behind me.  I wasn't even aware I had a trooper behind me, as I was deep in conversation with Jordan about what spatial organization in paragraph writing means.  (This is where I can say with pride that, yes, my 14 year old and I were engrossed in how a writer can lay out a description of their topic in a spatial way.  This is new territory for us since I have mainly focused on expository writing with him over the years, and to me, I never really thought about using spatial organization when, for example, writing a five paragraph essay about 'Why I enjoy camping'.  Seriously?)

Anyway, lights are flashing in the back window.  I look at Jordan and stupidly ask him, "Me"?  Is he wanting ME?  What did I do?  I couldn't have been speeding, we were just at a stop light!"  I notice the other cars around me, which are all traveling faster than me, so no, I certainly was not speeding.  What the hell?  I start talking out loud to myself, because that is what I do when I am a little freaked out.

"ME?  Why me?  What did I do wrong?  Shit... stupid car get out of my way so I can pull over!  Here?  Should I pull over here?  Is he still behind me?  Did I just say the s-word out loud?" (winning!)

I pull over, put the window down and turn off the car.  And then I turn to look at Jordan and point to the paragraph about spatial organization in his language arts textbook and continue what we were talking about.  Like I said, we were engrossed.  Maybe that was the reason I had committed some horrible traffic violation and wasn't even aware of it.

Finally he approaches the car.  He was the spitting image of this guy:

We are big Jimmy Fallon fans, and so I couldn't help but crack a smile.  He cocks his head to the side and looks into the back of the van to survey things.  "Are they twins?", he asks as he's looking at Owen and Colin in the back seat.  My smile froze.  fuuuuuuuuuck......

(Colin is a chronic unbuckler or even non-buckler.  Half the time when we drive across town, as we unload Colin just casually slips out from his car seat.  I know that he cannot unbuckle the ridiculously notorious red button on the center buckle, so there is no way for him to exit his seat unless he didn't buckle in the first place, the twerp...  I constantly forget to make a point of double-checking before we start driving.  (winning!  again!)  So as the trooper is examining my children, I am afraid to look around and see for myself if Colin is buckled or not)

I try a diversion tactic instead.  "Would you believe they are two years apart?  So, should I pull off over there, instead?"  pointing ahead to where the shoulder is a lot wider, because right now I am in a pretty narrow spot thanks to the stupid car that wouldn't get out of the way.  He tells me no, and asks if I knew that my left rear brake light was out.  "No, really??? I had no idea". (total lie)  "Can I see your license, insurance and registration?"

Dammit.  Now we are going to really be late for tumbling.  I have yet to make it on time for this stupid class.  I hate our schedule....

I comply, after sweating for a few seconds worrying about if I had remembered to switch out the insurance card for the new one.  I continue talking with Jordan, the kids seemed nonplussed that we've been pulled over, (??), and then he comes back, gives me my cards back and a warning ticket about the brake light.  "You get that light fixed as soon as you can, okay?  Drive safe!"  How can I stay safe?  We are all maniacal lunatics just trying to get from point A to point B, on time or as close to it as possible.

I shove Rylan out the van door when we get to point B, and then after class I go in and explain to her teacher that Rylan will be late by 10 minutes every week until the end of November when her Lego team finishes with competition.  She nods in understanding and admits she was late for class too.  "Traffic...it is just impossible to get anywhere on time at this time of day!"

Tell me about it.