When Vera Rides Shotgun

Life is what you make of it. And what I have made of mine is often a hectic frenzy. I say this because my hectic mornings are a direct result of the choice that I made to live 30 country miles from our school, job, and church.

So on a usual hectic morning, we load the car with the breakfast basket, the travel mug, the purse, and the 50 pound book bag, kiss the daughter, and she’s on her way. But there are some mornings which rise beyond the hectic level to manic morning status. Those would be the days when, for one reason or another, the daughter decides to spend the night with the Duchess. This necessitates the addition of Vera Bradley into the hectic routine.

Vera, of course, is the designer of those fabric girly bags in a variety of patterns. Manic mornings include the Vera Toggle Tote, the Vera Cosmetic Bag, the Vera eyeglass Case, and the Vera flat iron holder all combined in a neat little Vera pile which must make it down the stairs and into the front seat of the car along with hanging clothes for the next day…



… in addition to the breakfast basket, the travel mug, the purse, and the 50 pound book bag. Inevitably, these mornings occur on the days when Super Dad is not there to oversee the project.

Such was the scenario the other morning as Miss Whimsy  left for school with plans to go Winter Jam and spend that night with the Duchess. So before sunrise, we lugged the travel mug, the basket, the book bag, the purse, the Vera pile, and the hanging clothes for the next day toward the door.

And I asked, “Do you have your jacket?”

“I have this…” She gestured to her hoodie. Was that what I asked? No, it wasn’t.

So I said again, “But do you have a jacket?”

“No… I have this”. She gestured again.

Now, I was getting a little testy.

“But you might need a jacket.”

“No I won’t.”

“Yes, you might. I’ll get it.” And I balanced the breakfast basket in the crook of the arm and opened the closet door…

“It’s not there. It’s up on my bed. And I don’t need it.”

“Yes, you might.” And I marched up the stairs to the beat of the mommy cadence. You know the one. “You are spending the night with Grandma… You do not know what the weather will be like…. You may keep it in the car… but you need to be prepared….wok wok wok wok wokkkkkkkk.”

And I distinctly heard a muffled titch. Oh, yes, I did. And it was followed with the, “Why?...”

Don’t tell me about multi tasking. I’ve got that thing down to a science. Only a veteran mom can juggle Vera Bradley in one hand, a breakfast basket in the other, dangle hanging clothes from her thumb hookie and a jacket from her armpit, yet STILL manage to reach into her bag of Mommyisms and retrieve that worn out “Because I said so” from the bottom.

And that was the final word. Motherhood is not for wimps.

And she and Vera headed for school. I have no idea whether the jacket ever made it out of the back seat of the car. It probably stayed there, if for no other reason than pure stubbornness. I, however, got Mommy Points for sending it.