It was Tuesday. The clock on the car dash read 5:15. 

Kid#1 had a piano lesson, Kid #2 had soccer practice, and Kid #3 needed to be picked up from soccer practice (on a different field, of course.) 

No problem, right? You’ve been there, too. I could have easily managed it, if my husband were here and not on a business trip, if the car didn’t desperately need gas, and if they’d actually remembered to bring the piano music, the water bottle, and the #4 soccer ball. 

Ugh, I thought, with a frustrated pound on the steering wheel. I hate September.

Let’s just get it all out. (Feel free to repeat after me, as necessary.) I hate driving. I hate filling out school forms.  I hate packing lunches and making dinner in shifts. I hate reminding kids to do their homework, bring their stuff, take a shower, and get a good night’s sleep so they can do it all again tomorrow.  I miss July.

In a Take it From a Mom post last spring, Amy Ames described us all driving in circles from various points on County Road.  How true it is -- again.

I started this school year with a clean car and new resolve to be Zen-like with my role as chauffeur mom. I took tips from Supermoms all across town and loaded up my Sienna with boxes of grab-n-go snacks, pencils and clipboards for doing homework on the road, and CDs of calming music. Well, we’re two weeks in and I now have a car full of crumbs, broken pencils, and a 10-year-old who insists we listen to Eminem’s (non-explicit) version of I’m Not Afraid on the way to school.  I miss July.

I’m trying to keep my woe-is-me mentality in perspective, and this September I’m getting a little help from my friends. As I paused, along with everyone else, to contemplate the 10-year anniversary of 9/11,  I wondered especially how those who suddenly became single parents that day have managed to piece back together the logistics of their lives. Surely their kids play soccer, too.

Leaving work the other day with a colleague, I complained that I felt like my day was just beginning.  As we shared stories of the kids’ evening activities, he paused and said, “Yeah, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

It was just the attitude adjustment I needed. I realized that a part of me was wishing it all away. In the hustle and bustle of our new routine, I lost track of the fact that there will never be another September when they’re 12, 10, and 7. This is a one-shot deal and I was on the verge of blowing it at a red light.

We got through the Tuesday night. The homework got done, the kids got fed, and only one coach had to call my cell to wonder if I’d forgotten to pick up my child. That child fell into bed much later and said those magic words that make it all worth it. He said, “Thanks, mom, for all that running around stuff.”

Nope, thank you buddy for reminding me that I really wouldn’t trade this in for anything. Unless, of course, we could somehow swap September for July…