11 minutes

It is exactly 11 minutes from the parking lot of gymnastics camp to our garage.  11 minutes.  I’m not sure how the rest of the world cycles emotions in 11 minutes but I will tell you that today I was like one of those Mississippi River boats with big sloshes of water all over the place as the wheel turns and pushes the boat up the river.  I cannot be the only person who is like this.  Some days it’s more manageable and other days it’s just all the sloshing.

Whenever I drop the kids somewhere there’s a weird internal push and pull of “FREEDOM” and “I forgot a body part back there.”  To fix that I crank up XM radio and attempt to locate something as classic as Naughty By Nature’s O.P.P. until I’ve screamed all the words to the point the construction workers next to me on the highway are concerned for my sanity.  It is then that I’m usually about to cross the bridge over the river.  Today I saw two teenage boys running and their feet were hitting the ground in perfect unison.  This made me cry.  Seriously, folks.  What.  The.  Hell?  It was such a beautiful and simplistic moment of feeling acutely aware of every part of myself and all the people around me and a wave of emotion just crashed over me.  I laughed as the tears streamed down my face because it was irrational and annoying and I’m so grateful for that part of me.  It also made me think of my girls and how one of them is cut from the same feel-y cloth while the other one is all “Did you know if I say octopus lots of times again and again I forget that it’s a word and not just a sound?”  And I love both of them so intensely, even if we are like magnets and the one that is so different is like sticking a magnet to the face of a refrigerator and the other…the one that is me in a tiny body but with parts of her daddy like swapped out pieces of Mr. Potato Head….that one is like trying to stick a magnet to another magnet and we have this forcefield that keeps us from sticking together.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Sure keeps life interesting.

That said, I have 138 minutes until I go to pick them up.  And I fully intend to hide in my house and not talk or feel anything during those minutes to recover from the 11 minutes it took to get here…and to prepare for the 11 minutes it will take to get back.  And that’s just how this Friday is going to go.  Survival, people.  It’s a thing.

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