Making Room for Error?

The morning regiment with Little Pete* has no room for error. I need exactly an hour from the time we leave the house to get into my office. This hour includes driving to A's for day care, playing at A's for a little while, stopping for Starbucks to go, driving into downtown Minneapolis, and parking Saabrina (my car) in my building's ramp. Exactly one hour.

Yesterday we had error - make that errors. I had a meeting set up for 9:00 a.m. This meant Little Pete and I had to pull out of the driveway at precisely 8:00 a.m. Easy, right? No. 7:30 a.m. the call to Little Pete - Morning, Glory! Rise and shine. Little Pete decided he wanted to sleep in and no budge would make him rise until he decided on his own that he was ready to shine. And shine he did (he always does). By the time Little Pete accepted it was morning, I had already dressed in a very smart outfit, and we headed downstairs. On the way down, the strap on my black heel unexpectedly broke. No explanation. One second everything is in tact, next second it is not. This caused a change to the entire outfit because I did not have another pair of black heels suitable for the outfit. This caused me to curse Peter out loud because I used to have numerous black heels until he constantly complained that I could only wear so many. Last night I went out and bought two new pair. Maybe I will get another tomorrow. So, an outfit change and back downstairs.

We usually don't have breakfast in the morning. Little Pete eats at A's. However, for some reason he was in the mood for cereal - get the cereal. No, he wants a muffin! Get a muffin. No, now he wants Peanut butter on something - on anything! Make a peanut butter sandwich. Out the door. To A's. Now cries of panic that Little Pete will not get his way of having me stay and play with him. Extra play, play, play. Wave goodbye. To Starbucks. To work. My parking card is lost. It has disappeared. I can't find it anywhere. Walk quickly into the office at precisely - 9:01 a.m. I am late. Only by a minute, but I am late.

I know this does not sound like a big deal, but occasionally Peter and I discuss a second child. I discuss whether we are going to have a second child and Peter discusses when we are going to have a second child. He firmly believes that no one deserves to be an only child. He also believes that there is some precise calculation to the spread of child 1 and child 2. This calculation begins with "trying" in August. Don't ask - it all has to do with how long he thinks it will take and his summer break (Peter is a teacher). August is soon. I am unsure. I feel like I don't have a minute to spare. Yesterday is a case in point, I don't have a minute to spare. Actually, I need two more minutes, at least. Peter tells me no one is ever sure about child 2; you just take that leap. Feels like a leap off a bridge to me. However, this is not much different than how it felt when we first thought of the idea of Little Pete, and that has gone pretty well. Since then I have been enjoying the free fall.

I was once convinced by my friend's crazy brother to jump off a 36' cliff in Mexico into a deep senote. When he first suggested the idea I thought there was no way he could be serious, so I told on him - to his father. Crazy boy's father exclaimed, "Let's do it!" So we trudged to the top of the cliff with our Mexican friend who assured us it was safe - no rocks or anything in the water, or if there are, they are 150 feet down. Crazy boy first. Then crazy boy's father. Next, it was my turn. I stood at the top motionless. I wanted to jump so badly but I was afraid something crazy might happen. Like maybe that day the gods said, "third person dies." But then there was the other force - my friend's mom standing on the other side of the senote yelling, "A, don't do it! Maybe you shouldn't do it!" At that moment, I heard what she heard - my mother's voice in her head reprimanding her for letting this happen to me. With one swift move, I jumped. Toothpick style. It was a rush. But I have not gathered the courage to do it again! Or maybe I just haven't been pushed hard enough.

I just don't know. We are on a strict schedule. I suppose I could adjust the schedule . . .

*After looking back at earlier posts, I realized I never explained that my child's and husband's names definitely are not Pete, Peter, or Little Pete. Just names I like to call them. It's a long story.