Out of a Job

Funny how this happened to occur on the morning after Mother’s Day, but it seems I have worked myself out of a job. For over 26 years I have been in the steady employment of driving one child or another (or many) to and from school. Every school day, of every year, for decades, I drove. When one graduated to the autonomy of their own automobile and driver’s license, another was waiting in the wings--or kitchen-- for Mom’s Taxi Service. 

For the most part, our kids attended schools without buses and so for all of these years I have been the veritable big yellow school bus leaving faithfully each morning from our garage and returning just about every afternoon for pick up—give or take a few. 

But this morning something miraculous and marvelous (and a little emotional) happened and our youngest child bid us goodbye and drove herself down the driveway and off to school All On Her Own. We released the reins a bit and, with a little trepidation and a whole lot of prayer, watched her head off into the wild blue yonder … or at least into the wild Atlanta morning traffic. 

It marks the end of an era for me. 25+ years is a good run in any job, wouldn’t you say? I received no engraved plaque or flashy watch piece. I just watched. I could only watch. This baby of ours who can now come and go on her own with her keys and her coffee and, perhaps, a tad too much confidence.

It was a big moment for this mama. I know my job as mom never quite ends. They’ll always need me in some capacity in some way. Our older four are essentially out on their own and adulting rather well, but they still let me know I am not completely obsolete.  At least they don’t make me feel cast aside or forgotten. It’s a different role with them these days. I don’t do for them the things I did when they were all little — but there’s still plenty. There are phone calls and questions and advice asked and sometimes just time spent. And I am more grateful than ever.

But this driving thing is different as it has consistently been a very daily and tangible item on my to do list. For many years I kind of had to plan my day around it. 

Plan or not, I admit, I didn’t always do it super well. There were times, on occasion, when I came late. There were seasons when I was for sure one of the last cars in line … or I flew into the parking lot on two wheels and a little too hot. There might have been a time or two when signals got crossed and someone was, unfortunately, forgotten. Not so proud of those moments, but definitely thankful for the gift of driving my kids. I tried not to take it for granted. Even when it felt like all I had accomplished some days was driving multiple kids to multiple schools. Back and forth. Forth and back. 

But I think back to the times when they talked to me and told me things about their day simply because we were stuck in the car together and they could not escape to the backyard or the television set or their bedrooms. They were trapped with their mother and she might have had her eyes on the road, but her ears were free and she could listen. And so I learned to listen.

The car was a place where I learned to listen better and then learned a little bit better about my kids. Sometimes I learned about their friends. Sometimes I learned things I didn’t want to learn. It was a day-in-and-day-out safe place for things to be shared. It was also a time when I had their full attention and I could give them a good talking to should they ever need it. They sometimes needed it.

I believe I gave one child “the sex talk” because I was able to lock the car door and not let her out until she heard what it was I had to say. 

One of my favorite car moments happened many years ago after I had just dropped off the older three kids at their elementary school and was left with our youngest (at the time) in his car seat behind me. As soon as the car door closed, Connor’s little 3 year old voice piped up, “Well, mom, it looks like it’s just me and us now. Just me and us, mom.” To this day we still say that. Perhaps part of him was glad to see his big brother and sisters leave for the day. As he said it best, it was just me and us. 

There are so many funny memories and moments in all of my years of driving. I did some pretty weird things. I tried to use those car-opportunities best I could. After one child forgot to wear her panties to preschool a few times and another couldn’t remember socks, I began keeping a bin in my back with both extra underwear and socks—just in case. There was also a period when I began storing dental floss and vitamins in the glove compartment because it seemed the only time I could remember to make them floss their teeth and take their vitamins. That didn’t last very long though. I’m pretty sure the chewables melted in the Georgia heat and the floss got lost between the back seats.

Speaking of between the back seats: There really is no place in the world quite like between the seats of a vehicle which is responsible for transporting multiple children multiple times a day. There should be a Netflix documentary done on this specific thing.

There was always food debris to be found. Petrified or worse. Once my daughter found worms in the seat pocket because someone had left food and that’s what happens when it rots. That was a proud moment. How do you even explain to your husband you have worms in the backseat and could he please do something about them?

We’ve had bowls of cereal and extra large cups of red slushies spill. We’ve had phones and keys slide into open coffee cups. Permanent markers leak. Crayons melt. Homework wedge into tight crevices and forgotten. Stinky socks and shoes abandoned making the next morning’s drive most miserable. School projects crumble. Body parts stuck in strange places. Tears shed. Blood shed. The dog shed. And, for sure, too many lunchboxes left to even count. 

Once I was driving a neighbor child home and they asked me why my car was so dirty. That was nice. I left him on the corner and told him to find a cleaner car and some better manners. (Just kidding). (Maybe).

One morning I forgot to the baby in his crib and had to turn the school bus back around when my oldest daughter informed me at a neighborhood stop sign that Connor was not in his car seat. Please don't judge. That might have been worse than the worm incident. Maybe. 

When we were in one of our best seasons—meaning at the beginning of the school year when we were fresh and full of hope—we attempted to use our time well. I would ask them to recite their math facts or Bible verses. It helped them, but so often it was me that most needed those Bible verses. Not the math facts. 

My kids tease me that I have so much random knowledge rattling around in my head now days and such passion for interesting and strange facts … I attribute much of that to these years as a driver of kids. They loved to tell me stuff and teach me. They didn’t realize the education they were giving their mom. 

And, so, this morning all of that finally and officially came to a close when our youngest daughter drove herself off to high school. She has joined the ranks of her older siblings.

BUT … I know she will come home later today and she will ask me what’s for dinner or if I could please pick her up an item from Target. She might even crawl into bed with me at the end of the day and unpack a story or two and she will unknowingly remind me that though she didn’t need me to take her to school this morning, she still needs me. 

I still have a job.

And I will be grateful.