Not Exactly a Transportation Strike...

Chris took Kenneth, Lesley, and kids to the airport this morning for their trip. He left the house before anyone else was up. I woke up, got Wilson up, got us dressed. We watched the news - the coverage of the transportation strike in NYC. I was impressed with the commuters' fortitude. They were walking. "You gotta do what you gotta do" one pedestrian said. That's right I thought.

I was impressed, because we left the house at 7:50. Plenty of time to leisurely drive to work. We stepped out the front door, I shut it behind me and then I noticed there was no car in the driveway. No car on the street either. No transportation. There was a car, tucked safely in the garage, but here's the thing - we have 2 keys to our house, Chris has one (on his way to DFW airport) and Lesley has the other because she used it to feed the pets while we were gone (also on the way to DFW airport). I have a cell phone, I just never carry it with me. So... Weighing our options here:

1. Break in.
2. Go next door and wake up the neighbors.
3. Sit down and hope Chris eventually comes home.
4. Live like the New Yorkers and hoof it.

We start walking. It's not too far and, remembering the news from the day "You gotta do what you gotta do." It's one mile from our house to work. It takes 3 minutes to drive, so, I figure it should only take us 10 to walk it...

My calculations were a little, well, off. The thing is that none of the people featured on the news are in week 33 of a 40 week pregnancy. None of these people had a three year old in tow. He's been sick. I bundle him tight in his coat so all you can see are his dark eyes. In his left hand he is clutching his beloved "doggy with spots" and he's holding my hand with his right. He's doing ok - until we get to the end of our street.

"Let's go home and get the car."

"Can't. It's in the garage and I don't have a key."

"Daddy has a key."

"Daddy's at the airport and he doesn't know we need in. Besides, this is fun. Walking. This is healthy exercise."

"I hate exercise."

We make it to another block.

"You can carry me."

"No, I can't. This is fun. People are doing the same thing in New York right now."

"I need to sit down."

"Just keep going."

We turn north and trudge on.

"That's just great! Now there's mud!"

"It's not mud. That's dirt."

"Mud IS dirt, Mom."

"It's fine. Keep walking."

We head east.

"I'm sick. I should be in bed."

"No, you have allergies. I gave you medicine. It will start working. Besides, walking is healthy. It will keep you from getting sick so much."

"It's just too far. It keeps going and going."

"This is a fun adventure. Just like the people in New York are having."

"I'm going to wait here. You go on ahead."

"I can't leave you here!"

"You go on ahead." He's whining now. He has stopped. He walks to the curb.

"You're coming with me. Let's get going."

"I'm just going to wait here."

"For what?! You're coming with me. You never leave a man behind."

"I can't make it."

We keep going. I distract him by mentioning his class Christmas party. Stewart will be waiting for him. Lucy will be waiting for him. He can't let Stewart and Lucy down - they are waiting for him. We have to keep going.

"Look, I can see the big dome. We're almost there."

"I think we should go home."

"No, we shouldn't. It's farther to go home than go on to school."

"It's too cold out here. I'm sick. I think I'm going to throw up."

"You're not. You're fine. You have allergies."

I coax him the rest of the way, wondering where on earth a three year old learns to be such a quitter. I make a note that we're going to have to work on his disaster and problem solving skills.

I march his royal pessimist into school. I tell him we should be proud. We didn't use any gasoline. We are prepared for any transportation strikes. We are doing what we gotta do. We are survivors. Lucy and Stewart will be proud. There will be cheering and hugs because he has made it, walking to school from our house.

His teacher meets us at the door - "Lucy and Stewart have strep throat. Since Wilson plays with them all the time, you might want to keep an eye on him..." He looks up at me. Only his eyes are showing through the small opening in the coat hood. The eyes are glaring at me. It is 8:15. The three minute, one mile trip has taken this very pregnant woman and sick preschooler nearly thirty minutes... So I waddle and he drags a 30 minute mile.

"I told you I was sick and you didn't listen to me. You made me walk. This is Texas."

He lets me take his coat off and he staggers away to the couch. No hug. No goodbye. No "thanks for not leaving me on the sidewalk." No "thanks for keeping me going and pushing me to the goal"... As I get to my office, Chris calls. If we had just waited at home for 5 minutes, we would have gotten a ride, and we would have gotten to school faster than we actually did. "You gotta do what you gotta do" and sometimes what you gotta do is sit on your rear and wait for the calvary to arrive.