Tuesday, April 16, 2013

My Blog Has a New Home!

Thank you for following Expect the Unexpected. I have recently moved my blog to a new site and it has a new name, Unscriptedmom. Please come follow me at http://unscriptedmom.com/. You can also find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/UnscriptedMom. Hope to see you over there!

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Have You Ever Chased a Bus on the Highway? A Crazy Parenting Moment



It was my 10-year-old son’s first day of ski school on a cold, blustery day in Minnesota.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to send him that day because they were headed to a ski hill that was about an hour away, and we were scheduled to get a bunch of snow so I was worried about the drive home. But after finding out that a few of his buddies were going, my son decided that he really wanted to go. So, we hurriedly layered him up, got his ski bag and lunch bag packed and we quickly headed out to catch the bus.

We were supposed to meet the bus at a nearby mall parking lot. I pulled into the lot and there was no sign of the bus or of any other cars waiting for a bus. I frantically called another mom who told me that her husband had taken their son and that she thought the bus was on the west side of the mall. I was on the east side. It was 8:01 a.m. The bus was scheduled to depart promptly at 8:00.  I drove like a madwoman to the other side of the mall and caught sight of a school bus pulling a trailer behind it (presumably containing ski equipment) exiting the mall parking lot and heading toward the freeway. “SHHHIIITTTT!!!!!” I said in my very outside, non-mommy voice. “Mom,” my son whispered. “Did I miss the bus?”  “NO,” I retorted as I screeched out of the parking lot, hell-bent on catching that bus.

“Mom,” said my sweet son, who could sense that I was about to do something crazy, “It’s okay, we can just go home.” “No honey, you are going skiing today,"I said. "You want to go with your friends, we've paid for it and you are going.” “Are you going to drive me all the way to the ski hill,” he asked tentatively. “Nope, you are taking the bus there,” I said trying to not let him know that my heart was just about to jump outside of my body as I prepared myself for the bus chase. “But, mom….” “Honey, I got this, just sit tight.” And we were off! I raced out of the parking lot and got onto the highway on-ramp. The bus was in sight. Trying not to kill my son and myself, I accelerated a lot but resisted pushing the pedal completely to the metal.  I maneuvered my car into the lane directly to the left of the bus. My son sat motionless and speechless with the oh-no-she-is-not-possibly-doing-what-I-think-she-might-be-doing look on his face.

There was no way that I was going to drive an hour and a half each way to get this kid to ski school today, but there was also no way that he was not going to go. One small problem, what to do about the bus that I needed to get my kid on but was traveling at 55 miles an hour on the freeway?  As I cozied up right along side the bus, I had a direct view of the bus driver.  I honked. I honked again.  She finally glanced over and I caught her eyes. She looked at me with a puzzled look. I pointed to my son in the back seat. She looked at me again with the same perplexed look. I motioned for her to pull over with my right hand. She looked at me in a different way, a way that said, “Are you out of your frick’n mind?” I nodded and mouthed the word, “Please?”

Next thing I knew, the bus was exiting the highway. I quickly followed suit, and pulled up behind the bus where it was slowing to a stop on the right hand shoulder of a frontage road.  “Mom,” squeaked my son from the back seat, “I can’t get on that bus. This is the most embarrassing thing ever!”  “Oh, but you can, honey. I’m sure your buddies are thinking how cool it is that the bus pulled over for you!” He slowly got out of my car. I grabbed his ski stuff from the trunk and he and I approached the bus driver. “M’am, that was not very safe,” she said. “I know but I can’t thank you enough for stopping.”  My son slowly, gingerly got on the bus. I saw his buddies stand up to greet him and give him high-fives.

The absolutely insane, unimaginable, outlandish things we do for our kids. It took me several hours and countless deep breaths before I could even tell this story to my husband who just shook his head in disbelief.  It took me more that a year to write it down.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Look Mom! No More Training Wheels!


For the past 16 years, I have driven this kid around like a chauffeur. Basketball, tennis, baseball, school, friends’ houses, camps…a regular taxi service I was. And I am certain that I complained about it…just a few times. But today that would all change. The reality of the transition that was about to occur hit me when I got out of my car and the driver's license examiner got in and said, "We will be back in 15 minutes." "Okay, I will be here," I responded in a faint voice. I walked away and felt a surge of emotions: fear, disbelief, nostalgia all mixed up with excitement and anticipation. I stood frozen and stared at my car with my son and the tester inside, only to have my trance interrupted by my son bounding out of the car mumbling expletives, “Mom, you took the car keys!” “Oh sorry, honey,” I said as I fumbled through my purse and quickly handed them over.

I resumed my trance-like state, leaning against the outside of the driver’s license office building wanting time to stand still for just a moment. Please, just for a moment, so I can process this, wrap my brain around the idea of my son being able to drive...legally...by himself. But my phone rang and it was my husband, who was out of town, wanting a play-by-play of our son’s driver’s test.  Well, the first play I  reported was our son managing to maneuver the car directly over a curb as he pulled out of his parking spot and made a right hand turn. I wondered if that did him in. But I knew he wanted this; he wanted this badly, and he had worked hard and practiced and I believed that he would find a way to turn a rough start into an acceptable outcome.

I saw a girl get out of a car holding a piece of paper and walking toward her dad. She was beaming. “Congratulations,” I said as she walked passed me. She smiled and thanked me and proceeded into the building to fill out paperwork with her dad. I wondered about my son's fate. After 10 long minutes and not much to report to my husband, I saw my son pull the car into a parking spot. I saw him step out of the car holding a similar looking piece of paper. He had a grin on his face and immediately gave me a thumbs up. A knot formed in my throat and I tried not to let the tears well up in my eyes as I got the words, "he passed" out to my husband.


A license to drive is a right of passage, a milestone, a part of the natural progression of our children’s development and a big step toward their autonomy. It is something to celebrate.  But at the moment when he emerged from my car with the same "I did it" smile that he has given me so many times over his life, I realized that my time with my son just took a huge hit. He will no longer be forced to spend those minutes or hours in the car with me transporting him to where he needs to be. He can get there without me. Should I rejoice in this? Sure. But now that I can feel this time slip away, I clearly see how precious it was. 

On the way home, I told him that I would miss the countless hours we had together in the car, heading to and from his games, practices and social events. I would miss the talking and the not talking…just being in the confined space of my car with him.  He was quiet, still reveling in the glory of his accomplishment. I wondered if he would miss that time we had together. Maybe somewhere in the distant future he would remember and be grateful for those times, but for the present moment, I got a very strong sense from him that he couldn't wait to be free!

So, on those days when you have spent more hours turning your steering wheel than you have doing anything else, remember that your calling as a chauffeur is only temporary. Try to cherish some of on-the-road time you have with your children.  And definitely buy yourself an awesome chauffeur’s hat!


Monday, January 28, 2013

She's Going to College

It's official, she is going. A few of the colleges she has dreamed of attending wrote her letters and sent her emails saying they'd be thrilled to have her. She screamed! She jumped up and down! She was elated, beyond elated! I screamed and jumped up and down with her. I was elated, but not beyond elated. Because we all know what this really means. Yep, it means that she is really going to leave. She is not sure where she will land...still waiting for letters from a few other potential options. But none of these options are in my zip code or even in my state. She is flying the coop. I pray her wings are strong enough for the flight. I believe that they are but I still pray. I am proud of her, happy for her and yet slightly sad and confused. Elated? For her, maybe. For her that she gets to take those beautiful blue eyes and go out and view the world from a different lens--a lens that is more her own--a lens that she will continue to fine tune, adjust and readjust as she becomes a more aware and conscious adult. Will she know a good thing when she sees it? Will she know danger? Will she follow her heart? Or her head?

I will know some of her thoughts, her ideas, her feelings, her fears but certainly a lot fewer of them than I do now. I won't be able to see her eyes every day when she comes home from school and instantly be able to determine if she had a good day or that something is weighing on her. She will get to decide if she wants to tell me--or not. I won't necessarily "just know." The protective layer that I have, or at least think I have with her living in my house, will peel away as she exits. And I don't know what it looks like or feels like to not have that layer in tact. And neither does she.

But once again, I am ahead of myself. The yoga teacher in me says, "Embrace the present. She is still here." The letters arrived and told us she'd been accepted, and she will go, but she is not gone yet. This period of time feels a little bit like a bandaid being pulled off ever so slowly. Ouch! And I don't exactly know what lies beneath the bandaid. My friends and relatives who have older kids who have gone off to college tell me,"It's great. It's like a new chapter and it's cool to develop a more adult to adult type of relationship with your child, which will happen when she leaves." O.k., yes, but I actually really like this chapter. The one in which she lives in my house, and I get to see her and hug her every day. You can't hug via skype or text. Ouch again!

I know, I can kick and scream all I want about this (well, into my pillow maybe), but there's no turning back, she going. And the funny thing is, this is what I wanted, and deep down do want for her. This is when I am supposed to say to myself, "All the hard work paid off. She's going to college! She did it! You did it!" Maybe when that bandaid is completely off and is no longer uncomfortably pulling at the hairs on my skin, I will be able to say that.

I will certainly let you know!