Best-laid Plans

Being a parent and planning are two diametrically opposed things.  Nature will always resist you.  Chaos theory is true any little variant will snowball.  Schrodinger’s cat is alive, and dead.  Things will always go just fine. Except for when they don’t.  Things get magnified when you bring a toddler into the equation. 

My wife and I live about half an hour from work and twenty minutes from most things “in town”.  Grandma and Grandpa watch Willem during the day.  Grandpa picks Julian up from school.  A year ago, Willem recently had turned three and I needed to take care of him for an hour or so while my father-in-law took my mother-in-law to the optometrist. 

So, I met grandpa in the parking lot of the eye doctor and took Willem.  We went to have an unhealthy lunch at Wendy’s.  We ate and it was all good.  We packed into the car and headed back to the doctor’s office to hang out in the parking lot and wait on the appointment to end so I could get back to work ASAP.  Willem got restless though.  I loaded up the Netflix app on my phone and fired up Cars 3.  I reached back and handed my phone to Willem so he could be distracted and, I dunno, maybe fall asleep?  A few minutes into the drive and a putrid odor wafted its way into the front seat.  At a stop light, I adjusted my rear-view mirror and confirmed my suspicion.  Willem threw up.  He was covered in his lunch and whatever God-awful snack grandma had given him.  It wasn’t pretty to look at.  It wasn’t pleasant to smell.

We went to the optometrist and I called grandpa to meet me outside.  I got the car seat out of grandpa’s car to put in my while I stuffed the soiled one into the trunk. 

One of the joys of parenthood is dealing with installing car seats.  You should take your time, do it right.  Keep your kids safe.  I didn’t have time though.  But I had to make the time.  There are hooks and tethers.  That’s easy.  But you gotta tighten everything.  And real snug too.  That can be a challenge and the human condition is fragile and should avoid such conflict.  When such conflict arises though, it’s necessary to say things out loud.  Regardless of who is present.  I bit my tongue though and merely whispered.  My go to curse is “Fuck you motherfucker!”  But I was quiet about it.  Getting those straps tight enough is a test.  There’s always grunting involved.  I did it though.

Willem would need a clean seat to ride home in.  He was stripped down to his pull-up and we were off on the twenty-minute trip home.  After changing his clothes, I would drop him off at grandma and grandpa’s house and get back to work a little late. 

We got home and I sat him down on the couch.  I stripped the covers and straps off the dirty car seat and threw them into the wash.  We changed his clothes and were off. 

Again, he was restless and I handed him my phone to distract him with anthropomorphic talking cars.  And once again a putrid stench made its way up front.  Immediately I looked back and he was filthy.  Then I figured something out about my son.  He gets motion sickness.  No longer would I distract him with small handheld devices in a moving vehicle.

We pulled over and I cleaned my phone off with the wipes I keep in my car.  Willem wasn’t drenched like last time but was still super gross, as was the seat.  I called grandpa and asked if they had spare clothes at their house.  Alas, they did not.  Shit.  I would have to go home. Again.  It was so late I might as well pick Julian up.  Fortunately, we kept a spare car seat in the garage.

We got home.  Willem was changed again.  A second car seat was stripped and thrown in the wash.  I went into the garage and much to my chagrin, neigh, to my absolute inconsolable horror, there was another problem.

We did have the spare car seat.  But it was completely disassembled.  From the last time Willem threw up on it. 

Pickup time for school just started (school is a five-minute car ride away).  It takes time to assemble a car seat.  Especially completely when you hadn’t done it in a while.

I texted my wife frantically.  I called the school to give a head’s up that I would be picking Julian up late that day due to an act of God.  I took a deep breath and wanted to cuss so loud so much.  But there was a kid present.  I pushed forth.  Straps were crammed into slots.  Covers placed where they had to go.  Clips were clipped.  Straps tightened.  I told Willem to stay in the house.  I had another step to deal with.  Putting the car seat in.

This time nobody was present within earshot, “Fuck you motherfucker!” was said more than once.  Just like before, there’s plenty of grunting and, though it was like a 50 degree mid-October day, there was sweating.  I finished though. I ran into the house and grabbed Willem.  We had to go.

Plan D (or E?) was in place.  Pick up Julian. Drop off both kids and Kharla’s work. She then would go home.  I could make it back to work two hours late in time to work one extra hour.  Let’s do this!

Getting Julian was a breeze. I mean, there were no other cars in the pickup line.  It was a quick in and out.  Now, off to Kharla’s work.  It was before rush hour, I could make good time.  Only, I couldn’t.

I always take it personal when there’s a car accident and it delays me.  It’s irrational and selfish.  But I always look at it from my perspective only.  And this day compounded everything.  That day was supposed to be simple.  Watch Willem an hour or so and go back to work.  Four hours later and the universe kept shoveling crap at my feet.  Those things kept on happening and I was helpless.  I actually teared up.  If there is one thing men don’t like, it’s when stuff is out of their control.  We like to be able to fix stuff.  To solve stuff.  To anticipate.  Not trying to be sexist here, just speaking from my point of view.  Speaking my truth. 

So traffic was backed up bad with rush hour approaching.  I really wanted to scream “Fuck you mother fucker!” but this time there were kids in the car.  I was defeated.  I exited as soon as I could and called work.  Then I called my wife and told her not to wait for me, to just come home.  Barring another disaster, we’d just go home and I’d make dinner.

Was there some other comeuppance karma wanted to send my way?  I didn’t know.  I could only prepare for what I knew and just roll with the punches.  And that’s life, especially with kids.  Find what works and hope it continues to do so.  Keep your head up and take whatever licks life sends your way.