"I'm leaving," Jeremy said. He still looked like death warmed over, but insisted on going to work today anyway. I suppose after taking two sick days, he was fretting over the 'in box' on his virtual desk accumulating to-do tasks.
"Is Ruthie ready to go too? She has band today," I asked him from behind the shower curtain. "Oh CRAP! Is it 7:30 already?!???" I did a quick mental calculation and discovered I had to take a very very fast shower.
"Yeah," He said. "I've gotta go and take The Boy to school, then to work."
"Oh, ok. Well, if she's not ready to go, and you can't take her, can you tell me? I'll have to move a little faster."
A few moments later, Ruth came running into the only bathroom in the house. "I'm not ready. Daddy says he's leaving."
"Ok," I said. "You've got about ten minutes, max, to get your butt in gear and be ready to walk out that door.
"Oh," she said, "And by the way, it's picture day."
"Crap! Ok. Plug in the curling iron. Let's see if we can fussy-up your hair a bit. Now get out, so I can get out of the shower and start getting dressed."
I quickly dried off, lotioned up, and slapped on my painting/work clothes. While pulling on my pants, I hollered to Ruth to come upstairs and start curling her hair the way I've been teaching her. I figured I could at least get her started and then finish it once I was clad completely. The Little Sister green-eyed monster showed up, and Hannah began demanding to do her hair. "You're not going to band, I am," said Ruth in her best mommy voice. Crammed into our little closet of a bathroom and hopping around on one foot trying to get my other pant leg on, I played referee and broke up the fight before it began. My blood pressure was sky-rocketing.
We rushed down the stairs, throwing on jackets and shoes, picking up back packs and lunches. I grabbed the picture day envelope off of the bulletin board hanging on the fridge. "HEY! That's MY envelope," Hannah whined.
"They're both the SAME," I ground out through my teeth. Miss I-have-to-be-COA whimpered again. Giving her the glare-of-death, I turned back to the envelope, circled my choices, wrote the check, and handed it all over to Ruth.
"Don't lose this."
"I won't."
"You'd better not." Ruthie has been losing a lot of things lately. I think I might be losing my mind.
I grabbed Ruth's french horn, which must weigh a ton and a half, and opened the front door.
No van.
Ohhhhh yeaaaaaah! The van was in the shop yesterday. Dad's taking me to pick it up this morning.
Turning around, I looked at Ruth as I shut the front door and said, "Um, no van."
"We have to walk?" She said, frowning.
"Yeah."
"Up that hill?"
"Yeah."
"Oooohhh!"
"Yeah."
I live in a town with the word "Mount" in its name. "The Hill" as the children refer to it, is not a trivial matter, not when having to haul a french horn, a snare drum, or a double stroller, for that matter. I've been asked before how I manage to keep in shape. It's simple. I probably run up "The Hill" at a minimum of twice a week. More, depending on who forgot what on which day of school. The kids walk a short but steep incline from the house to twenty-fifth street. From there, it's pretty much straight and level for two blocks until they get to "The Hill." To get to their elementary school, it's another two, maybe three blocks straight up. Normally the walk takes from seven to ten minutes, depending on your speed, and how many children you're herding along. When Joshua was in first grade, Ruth in pre-school, and Hannah a toddler, it would easily take me fifteen to twenty, unless I pushed the girls in a double-stroller.
At this point, Ruthie was late, very late, for band. It wasn't a matter of walking up "The Hill" with her horn in its case. It was a matter of running up "The Hill." Neither Ruthie nor I were looking forward to the run. "I'll carry the horn, baby," I told her.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yeah, we're gonna have to move very quickly. And you won't be able to haul it." Ruth, who is very sensitive and sweet, often thinks of others before herself, little sister not withstanding. She did not like that I was having to carry it the whole way and her expression radiated her distress. "Hey," I added, trying to re-assure her, "I'll think of it as my morning exercise. I haven't been to gym in ages. This will be weights and cardio." I smiled. She smiled back. "Besides, I'll probably have you carry it for a little at some point. Between the two of us, we should be able to get it up there."
We tore out of the house at mach speed, well, as fast as our little legs would take us. And if anyone who has ever walked with me can attest, it's pretty fast. We plowed up the small incline, power-walked the straight-away, and began hauling our butts up "The Hill." Half-way up, Ruth complained about her hair getting messed up. "Worry about getting there on time," I said between panted breaths.
"Whew," Ruthie said, "This is hard. (pant) How are you carrying that thing?(gasp)"
"I don't know. (huff) I think its weight just increased by another half a ton. (puff) I'm handing it off to you now. (gasp) As I can't feel my arms now. (wheeze)"
"O(haaah) K. Ugh."
"I think (pant) this hill (gasp) is growing"
"I (huff puff) know."
"And the horn (wheeze) just added (fooof) two hundred (gasp) more pounds."
Ten feet more, and Ruth began dragging the horn case along the sidewalk. "Here, give it back to me." I said, taking it once more. We passed it back and forth a couple more times until we got towards the crosswalk, the building in view. Crossing the street, we noticed another girl getting out of her mother's car. Whew! Another late band member. Ruth wasn't the only one.
Continuing the last twenty feet towards the front doors, we noticed Ruth's fellow band mate turn away from the doors. She walked to the railing and yelled, "RUTHIE! BAND IS CANCELLED!"
"WHAT?!?"
"BAND IS CANCELLED!"
"CANCELLED?"
"YEAH, CUZ OF PICTURE DAY."
We stood by the cafeteria door, momentarily dumbfounded. I looked at Ruthie. She looked at me. I said, "Well, we're leaving the horn here at school anyway. No way I'm carrying that thing back. Not when you have your band lesson tomorrow." Strolling, now, into the front doors, I walked into the office and announced I was leaving the horn. They directed me to the band room where I could deposit it. We wandered back to the house, to wait until it was the official time for school to start. And as we walked, I thought, if this is how my day is beginning, I wonder what else would happen.
Little did I know. But that's another story.
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