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By Leslie Freiberger

Back to school? Back in the classroom? I can hardly contain my joy. I love my children, but it’s time to go. I wanted to make the return for my twins, Sam and Lindsay, as easy as possible.

When asked to be in the carpool, I immediately agreed. It’s an age-old tradition where parents get all the dirt from their unwitting kids because apparently, we become invisible when we are behind the wheel of a car. I was assigned the morning pick-up, like being the first leg of a relay race.

On first day eve, we went off to bed early, and listened to Yo-Yo Ma on our phones while we drifted into our calming rest. To ensure my rest, I took a nighttime Benadryl.

The morning sun danced across my pillow. WAIT! WHAT? The morning sun? What is that loud buzzer? How long had that been going off! It was 7 a.m.

“EVERYBODY UP!! We have to be out of here in 10 minutes.”

Engulfed in a Benadryl hangover, I wobbled, attempting to move with purpose, but instead, I was trapped in a slow-motion segment of a horror film.

No time to brew coffee to roust me out of my fog. I popped a handful of coffee beans. A new method I’ll call brew n’ chew.

“Mom! There’s a dead rat in my room!” Lindsay screamed.

“The cat left you a back-to-school gift, honey.”

I threw anything into lunch bags: leftovers from a week ago, Cheerios in a baggy, an old banana.

The carpool moms were texting, “Where are you?”

Sam hollered, “where’s my shoe?”

“Grab anything. They don’t have to match. Make your fashion statement. In the car!”

I burned rubber, with my Honda Pilot, pulling out of my driveway.

Older couples, out for a morning walk, didn’t realize they were taking their lives into their own hands. “Good for you! Get the hell out of my way!” I screamed.

I picked up Emma, waiting on the curb. Her dad suggested maybe he could drive the morning shift.

“No, I’ve got this.”

Sparks flew as I hurdled over the speed bumps.

I swerved around innocent neighborhood elementary schoolers, walking to their first day of school with their moms and dads, like a video game.

I picked up Ryan, barely slowing down.

“You guys ready for a great first day of school?” I asked, coughing up a coffee bean.

“Mom, can you fix the straps of my overalls? They’re getting longer,” Lindsay moaned.

Driving with my knees, I reached over and unlocked the strap holders, and pulled them tight. 

“Mrs. Freiberger, don’t take this the wrong way, but you could be a get-away driver,” said Ryan.

“Thank you, honey, that’s so sweet.”

The car came to an abrupt stop in front of the school.

“Okay, everybody take a deep breath, it’s going to be a great day.”

With a bit of hustle in their bustle, they will be in their seats right on time.

I shouted out the passenger window, “Namaste!”

I watched the four of them calmly chatting while sashaying across the green. Oh c’mon! I’ve committed 10, if not more, moving violations trying to get them here. If sloths could stand upright and carry brightly colored backpacks, they would fit right in. Like coal miners, they were slowly heading to the time clocks taking in their last few breaths of fresh air—no zing in their step. 

Oh well. I glanced down at my phone. Hmmm, I’ve been voted off the carpool.

— Leslie Freiberger

Leslie Freiberger lives in Pasadena, California, with her three children. She writes a blog Waffletude.com and is currently working on her first novel. She's the author of The Waffle Cookbook, has written a lifestyle column called “Back Home to the Foothills” and was recently published in Six Sentences.