My kids school doesn’t get out until about 3:40, but if you don’t get there at least a half hour early, you’re taking your life into your hands. (I have driven past the lot at various times and hand to God, even at 2:30 in the afternoon, more than an HOUR before school gets out there are cars lined up. And not class moms cars who parked there earlier and went into school for some PTO project. Actual parents, sitting in their car, engine running, furious because someone actually got there before them and took their spot. The FIRST spot. Rickey Bobby would be proud….



    I mean, I begrudgingly go to school to pick my kids up. I leave at the LATEST possible moment. Being last in line means my kids have further to walk to get to me, garnering me even a few more moments of my personal space not being violated, nay molested by my kids. 

I just don’t get it.

     God, what I would do to have an hour (or more) to sit in my car in a parking lot, looking like a pedophile in my big green van, or a potential “Silver Alert” (kind of like an Amber Alert usually reserved for missing elderly dementia patients) all by myself staring out the windows and drawing smiley faces in the fog that builds up on the glass.

  Come 3:15, that parking lot, full of parents and relatives vying for the precious place in the FRONT OF THE LINE, is not unlike the Star Wars saga. There are princesses, evil lords, drones and then there’s me, The Yoda mom. Sitting there in my 15 passenger, looking down at them all thinking. “Tired I am, rest I must.” and I close my eyes until I hear the onslaught of screeching kids bursting forth from the school as if someone told them that there were free puppies in the parking lot.

Nuts, I tell ya…. nuts.

yoda mom