“If you’re going to puke roll down the window”

His loud moaning keeps me checking in my rear view mirror to make sure he’s still properly fastened in his seat.

“I have a stomach ache!” He groans loudly

We’re on our way to school in the carpool lane and its rush hour on the 405. Just to be clear, we are literally going to make it to school right on time. There’s no room to deviate. If he’s going to puke he’s gonna have to do it on the way.

We start going through what he ate.

“I don’t knooow!!!” I think his discomfort is making him cranky.

“Well you had oatmeal, two quesadillas”

He sounds like a sad and angry alien monkey, “I KNOW!”

I stay silent. Waiting to see how close to dying he actually is, I’m also multitasking and managing LA traffic. I’ve got a dude in front of me that keeps breaking sporadically and an SUV behind me with someone, I hope is paying attention. Aside from that, I’m checking when to move over for motorcyclists and of course obsessively checking the time at least once every minute.

“Can I roll down the window for you in case you need to puke?”

“Nooo…. Yes...”

As I roll down the window he holds onto the doorframe and pulls himself as close as possible to stick his little head of hair out. I feel the cool breeze. His moaning stops. Thank goodness.

This last couple of weeks (okay every week) has been like this. Where we just need to get where we’re going regardless of what comes up because the destination is way more important than the journey. Like getting to school on time. So zip the small talk about light sabers and shoelaces.

“Get your shoes on, lets go… You didn’t brush your teeth??? Your shirt is inside out! Put the toy away! HURRY WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

I recently read this random post on CafeMom.com that said “If you yell at your kids you shouldn’t be a parent,” … I laughed out loud. Cackled. Lost breath. Inhaled then continued to laugh out loud. They’re probably right.

 Well listen, the socially acceptable good family institution is one of those things that is just that, an institution. And like religion its easy to make rules of how we think “good” people should act but no one is without flaws. Even the faithful nun has impure thoughts. We’re human. Don’t complicate it. Family is the same thing. We talk so much shit about how good parents should be but forget to think what its like to be one. Not a parent? Oh - and you thought you could judge someone for something you haven’t experienced? That’s really cute. Then again it’s just as natural to feel the need to judge, as it is to not be perfect.

“Mama can I tell you something?

“No”

“Mama!”

“Just kidding. Of course baby. You can tell me anything”

“I love you”

“Aww baby! I love you too!” My eyes are dodging traffic as I’m changing lanes.

“You feel better?” We remembered his Achilles heel; eating too fast gives him a really bad stomachache.

“Yeah”

“Are you going to puke?”

“No” We’re around the corner from the drop off area.

“Awesome. We made it a couple minutes early so you have time to run and get in line”

“Okay cool. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome baby”

He climbs over and gives me a quick sweet kiss on the cheek.

“Love you mama have a good day okay?” He jumps out looks back at me and blows me a kiss before shutting the door and running off. Bouncing Ninja Turtles backpack in tow.

All the stress of trying to make it on time to finally relax and then he’s gone. Running so he doesn’t miss the bell. I watch him go and before I turn off the road I see him do what he always does, turn around quickly to wave good-bye. I wave back even if he doesn’t catch it.

I figure that as parents there’s always going to be someone telling you you’re doing something wrong, even if you’re just Joe Schmuck walking down the street minding your own business. At the end of the day I believe everyone is trying their best and if we don’t have any severe sociopathic issues, we really are trying to be as honest as possible in every way.

When my kid grows up he’s going to have his own opinions of me, positive and negative. So I keep it real, because I have to be prepared later. At some point in his teen years he’ll tell me he hates me and at some point in college he’ll psychoanalyze me and tell me everything I did wrong that fucked him up. Including the inevitable and horrible moment I have to break the news that his girlfriend is a slut and he can do better. So I’m going to keep going everyday and get where we have to go. Savor the sweet moments in between as much as a busy family can and be grateful for the time I have with him. Because one day he’ll be all grown with his own busy life and my obsessive clock watching will instead be replaced by staring at the phone looking forward to his next phone call.