Sometimes it takes a wrinkle in life to make you appreciate what you have. That wrinkle can be in the form of random acts of nature, or dating stories from your single friends.
There’s been a little bit of drama in Los Angeles over the last couple of days, and UCLA happens to be in the middle of it all. Laef’s car is still stuck underground, hopefully not completely submerged in water. But, Laef’s car problem <<<<< the massive drought occurring while millions of gallons of water were being spewed around campus.
So we’ve been thrown a curve ball in regards to our daily life. Laef, me, Harper and Reagan are all carpooling to and from work. Harper was ecstatic about this news.
“Mommy AND Daddy are taking me to school??!!!! Yayayayay! Can I have a lollipop?”
I was excited too. Not lollipop excited, but family-bonding time excited.
Carpool Day 1
Laef starts reading every UCLA flooding headline. Out loud. I can’t really hear the headlines or process his words because Harper is in the back crying over the fact that she forgot to bring her baby’s pacifier and her baby is sad. I tell Harper to stop crying and that her baby will be excited to see her Paci when she gets home. Harper tells me that if I go home and get the paci she will give me candy. I tell her no. She says, “Fine. Then you’re not getting ANY candy”, and stares out the window angrily. Laef says, “She has totally inherited your bitch face.” Reagan is still reeling from the piece of crayon she ate while everyone was busy trying to get ready and out the door. It’s a mess, but we are only about 20 minutes late to work. I consider this a win.
At 4:15 p.m. I start calling Laef to make sure he is on his way to my office for our journey home. But because he is Laef – and he doesn’t return calls, texts or emails for at least 72 hours – I don’t hear back. He shows up at 4:30 p.m., and we leave to pick up the girls. Harper wants a surprise for the drive home, but of course we don’t have a random surprise in my car so she tells us that “she’s not going to be our friends anymore.” She’s also mad because Reagan is “looking at her.” We stop at the grocery store, and aside from the essentials – milk, fruit and bread – we leave with Fruity Pebbles. I am pretty sure Harper won this grocery trip.
At this point, I leave the Carpool to walk down the street to meet with my writing group. I am already sweating due to the fact that just as it is our turn in the check out line, Harper announces that she has to go potty really bad. Obviously being a supermarket, getting to the bathroom is like an entire episode of The Amazing Race. Aside from one minor infraction (instead of letting Harper push the elevator button, I do it myself, and minor panic ensues) we make it out of the store without any accidents.
As I’m sweating and walking to meet my writing friends, I realize that I left my wallet in the car. Laef doesn’t answer my call (see above) so I have no choice but to walk home and get my wallet. At this point, I decide to call Uber to drive me to my writing group so that I can avoid parking on Wilshire Blvd. at 5:30 p.m. on a weekday. The Uber driver wants to know if I’m married and where I work. Really, guy? In light of the Uber headlines this is the conversation? Doesn’t anyone want to just shut the fuck up and enjoy comfortable silence?
I finally make it to writing group, and we end up talking about dating. I’m the only married one in the group so I listen intently and try to muster up advice. But, holy shit, it’s beyond complicated. There are way too many rules about texting, when to text, when not to text, how often to see each other. No one calls anyone anymore. There’s no sitting around waiting for Jake Ryan to call.
Dating is waiting. And wondering.
I hate waiting and I hate wondering.
Maybe married life and carpooling is actually perfect.