Mom blog: Let this be a new Friday

Mom Blogger Jacquelyn

THIS FRIDAY
I have a fully decorated Halloween yard. My two youngest have their costumes down cold. I have set aside time for making halloween cookies over the weekend. I even have two rolls of dimes for Unicef.

For today, lunches are made. Stuff is packed for the little guy to go to a Halloween party after school. I am prepared for an afternoon meeting. The kettle broke and dropped its load of of boiling water yesterday (harming no one) (but that means one less lousy thing to happen today, get it?). My car has fuel, the milk is fresh, I have LAID OUT MY CLOTHES FOR MY MEETING. Please let this mean it will be a Friday of well-laid plans.

LAST FRIDAY
Remember last Friday when I was all proud to be taking Graydon to a Leukemia and Lymphoma Society lunch (of course you don’t remember, that’s why I’m filling you in). The lunch went off without a hitch, except for the fact that he was extremely agitated to leave before the end in order to get back to school.

Huh? I 14-year-old boy who is freaking out to get back to math class on a Friday afternoon? I wish it were the math, but I hope it’s a girl, and not a number of other possibilities. He got changed in the underground parking garage downtown—remember, boxers are the same as a bathing suit—then we race back to our ‘hood. Drop him at school. Go to another high school, pick up dancer daughter. Go to junior school, pick up Junior.

Drive to sports doctor for dancer daughter’s first appointment. Surprise! It’s no 15-minute doc visit. After an hour-and-a-half doctor appointment for Tessa, we come dashing out in the rain knowing we’ll be late for her dance class and the car is dead. As a doornail.

So I send kids off to dance on the subway, and I call my Canadian Tire Roadside Assist, sit in my car for an hour, the guy shows and boosts it in all of 35 seconds. He tells me to sit there idling for 10 minutes, then get out on the highway and blast it “don’t sit in this stop-and-go-city traffic or you’ll lose the charge and be calling me again.” Knock-knock. It’s 5 p.m. on a Friday in Toronto, on Bloor Street West at Runnymede. Show me a highway! Then he says I better get a new battery fast, or else “you’ll be calling me again.” (Maybe he thought I was cute, ever think of that?)

I hobble, in car gait, to the nearest Canadian Tire, which isn’t very near. Sure, they’ll take me in and slap a new battery in, my choice of battery and warranty. There’ll just be a 35 or so minute wait, then a couple of minutes to hook up the new battery. OK. It took so dang—I will spare you the details— long that I got home at 8:45.

I left the house at 11 a.m. to take Graydon to a fancy-dress cancer luncheon, and I got home at 8:45. My hitherto crisp suit deserved a funeral. I was $200 poorer.

So, please, let this be a new Friday. For all of us. Join hands with me now…

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