Why We Don’t Walk to School

Last Wednesday, I looked out at the clear skies and decided we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get outside. We needed a little fresh air and exercise. I thought that if I started getting us ready a little early, Phaedra and Curtis and I could walk to pick up Eleanor from school. Phaedra was really excited about the idea.

When we were almost ready, I looked at the clock and realized we were really cutting it close. Actually, it was about the time we usually leave to pick her up in the car. I told Phaedra it wasn’t going to work; we were going to have to drive and take our walk another time. Of course, she started screaming. I had no tolerance for screaming at the moment, and I was also quite disappointed over having to give up on our walk. I caved. I decided we would just rush as fast as we could to get there in time to pick her up.

This was a hard choice for me because I have always told myself I didn’t want Eleanor to be the last kid waiting for a parent to come and take her home. So far, she hasn’t; she’s been second to last, but not last. I absolutely hated the idea of her being taken to the office to have to call and track me down. I could just picture her there, my dejected, forgotten child, disappointed by an irresponsible mommy. Oh no, not me. I would not be that irresponsible mommy.

So when we got about half way down our block, and I looked at my clock to find that it said 11:13 (she gets out at 11:15), things were looking pretty bleak. I had Curtis strapped to me in the Moby and Phaedra riding in the stroller. I walked/ran as fast as I could. Curtis was wobbling to and fro with my every stride, and Phaedra, of course, would say “Wheee!” every time I picked up the pace. My legs were burning, chest heaving, face red, and I realized I had forgotten about the hills. They’re not the most drastic of angles, but when rushing with a strapped on baby and a stroller in front, those hills were killer.

I arrived just as the last parent’s car was driving away. By the time I walked up to the school, they had taken Eleanor inside. I was that irresponsible mommy with a forgotten child. My only comfort was that they hadn’t called me yet. I went to the door by her classroom, but it was locked. I turned and saw the teacher’s aide bringing her out the other door. They had gone to the office and saw me on the camera. So at least they didn’t have to call me. Eleanor was just fine. She had told the teacher’s aide that “brother probably had a major blow out.” (That’s what has threatened to make us late some mornings.) I hugged her and apologized and basically felt like dirt even though she was fine.

We had a nice, SLOW stroll home (mommy was tired!). The girls took turns in the stroller. Phaedra found an evergreen branch she loved and wanted to bring home with her. She dragged it along next to her as she walked. When she got back in the stroller, she dragged it on the ground, alternating sides as we went along. At one time, the thought crossed my mind what would happen if the branch got caught under one of the stroller wheels, but I figured Phae would just drop it and I would have Eleanor pick it up for her. Well, what do you know? The branch did eventually catch under the wheel, but Phaedra held on tight before the wheel tore it from her grasp. She had three small scrapes in her hand that were bleeding a little.

She screamed the whole way home. She even told me (in between screams) that she didn’t want to walk to school again, didn’t want to ride in the stroller, and didn’t want to pick up sticks because she got an owie. Eleanor was so sweet. She has so much empathy, and she hates it when people get hurt. She was anxious to help, so she picked up Phae’s stick and told her she would carry it home for her.

Here’s the stick.

Here’s the wounded girl. She didn’t want to show her owie.

We’ll see how long it takes before I decide to walk to Eleanor’s school again.