Car pools, grown kids

When Sarah and Michael were in elementary, middle and early high school, I drove them back and forth to school.  I never did the car pool thing like other mothers.  I was always glad to carry more kids along with us but these snippets of time with Sarah and Mikey were mine.  Everyday.

Someone once told me that it was remarkable how much you could learn from your kids in the brief ride in the car.  It couldn't be more true.  You hear the real story of what's going on with their friends, classmates and teachers.  You see who they are spending time with at school, not just the friends that they bring home.  Sometime if you're lucky, you get to see your son all grown up in high school hug his girlfriend.  Sigh. (It didn't affect me like I expected.  My joy for his happiness was overwhelming.)  Often you hear things that make you cringe but you can't let on because they will remember; next time when there is something that you need to hear, they will remember that you cringed so they may not share so much.

Getting them to school on time was a challenge because Sarah is not a morning person and Mikey is.  He was always ready early, (In elementary school Mikey figured out that he could save time in the morning if he dressed the night before so yes, he slept in his clothes...) but getting Sarah out the door took many creative turns.  (That's another story.)  Many mornings we ran close, but not once in 14 years were they ever tardy.

As is often the case, I have conveniently forgotten the mornings when we fussed, cussed and didn't get along.  What I remember are the happy times: the mornings when we managed to get out with time to spare so the three of us could sit in the car and pore over the want-ads looking for kittens; the mornings and afternoons that we sang along with the music on the radio; the mornings that we picked up my dad because he and I were going to garage sales afterward.

I seldom missed a morning or an afternoon; this was a pleasure for me that I knew would cease to exist with the arrival of Sarah's drivers license.  I always figured that moment would break my heart.  Soon that moment arrived.  Sometime after Sarah had been driving a while, I told her that if she wanted, she could take the car and drive her and Mikey to school. Well, the exuberance on Sarah's face eliminated any personal heartbreak I might suffer.  How could I be sad when she was so happy?  I had had my time , and as my mom reminded me: we stored up many memories to keep me warm someday when I'm sitting in my rocking chair.

Sarah's in college now, doing a fine job of getting herself to school.  Mikey, a senior in high school, has been driving himself to school for almost two years now, doing a fine job as well.  Me, I'm good.  I've got my memories to keep me warm.

One more time I would like to hear Mikey belt out Shania Twains' "I Feel Like a Woman"; he pulls it off so much better than she does.