She puts the kids on the school bus then runs away from home.
The little one wakes up late for school, drags himself to the kitchen, takes one look at the hot breakfast I’ve prepared and disdainfully declares that its gross and he wants a bowl of cereal. I have to find a constructive response that will curb his budding assholery while still finessing him to eat breakfast instead of start crying.
My parents have been visiting all weekend and are asleep upstairs. I’m trying not to wake them with all of our morning commotion while still racing to prepare three lunches for three people wearing backpacks: a middle schooler, an elementary schooler, and myself.
…my husband is calmly eating a piece of french toast at the table…
Finally (and I don’t use that word lightly) everyone is wearing a full backpack, full of breakfast, has shoes on, isn’t crying, has clean teeth, may or may not have brushed their hair, and is on their way out the door. The kids go to school for a glorious 8 hours, the husband goes to work for more hours than that, and I can’t run away from home fast enough. The trailhead is a whole new beginning to my day. Its not such a bad life.
THE ANCIENT SOUTHWEST 