Brian left for Ydaho this morning. Barely. Barely made it. NOT his fault. I dutifully printed off his boarding pass yesterday, being the organized mom that I claim to be (notice I didn't say that I AM). I have had it in my head for weeks that his flight was at 9:50. However, it was not. It was at 9 O' CLOCK!!! Unbelievable.
I decided to check the flight status this morning -you know, to make sure it was leaving on time. I went into shock as I read the correct time over and over and over. And OVER. Richard left very early for work - he was not here to
add to the craziness help. Les was getting ready for school - she goes on auto-pilot and does a great job with that. However - two concerns haunted me. 1 - with her Aspergers, she often does not adapt well to sudden chaos and can become very "disregulated" emotionally. And 2 - one of her learning challenges causes her to have difficulty paying attention to the clock. Realizing that she would have to do all that without my grand leadership, would she be ready for the bus and get to it on time? Sound like excuses? Nope - it's the reality of our lives.
We sped through all the roundabouts (annoying), farm roads and freeways. I swore under my breath at the people in my way. Did I say "Swore"? I called Rich at work and
cried to asked him if he could leave work and go ahead of us to the airport - maybe see if he could pave the way with Southwest. I had this grand illusion that if they were expecting Brian to be late, they might be ready to help us. Brian had a lot of luggage - it would be tough for him to make it alone, and I wouldn't have time to park the care to assist him. I felt SOOOO horrible.
Richard made it. He worked magic. Martha at Southwest was a Queen. I love you, Martha. Leslie rose to the occasion, no feathers ruffled. Brian made it through security without a hitch. They boarded the flight a little late so he still had time. Now if his luggage makes it on that flight....
My grown up son never got nasty with at me - he was frustrated, as he should be. He had every right to be yelling and screaming. He never spoke in anger or got ruffled. He offered encouraging words (and a little back-seat driving) all along the way.
My 17 year old daughter proved me wrong yet again. She did what needed to be done and showed me that she has grown in leaps and bounds.
My husband dropped everything and came to our rescue. He never got mad at me - only showed compassion for my frustration and my embarrassment, and for my tears. I love him.
Blessings, blessings, blessings. Heavenly Father is good. I learned from this.
And now I need to take a nap and maybe eat a little chocolate - whew.