4 minute read
JWOW
jewish women of wisdom
Carpool Mania Midlife Memories
By Miriam Hendeles
Every so often, I have one of those classic nightmares, similar to the one where one is taking a test after forgetting to study for an exam – except my version is the carpool version. In my dream, I’ve totally forgotten to arrange carpool, left town for a simcha, and my poor kids and their friends were left stranded in the courtyard of the school. I wake up sweating. Thank G-d, it’s not real.
Carpools were a key part of our child-raising years, our days entangled with carpool minutiae. When we weren’t driving carpools (which was hardly ever what with the various kids’ schedules), we were covering for someone else. And if we weren’t doing that, we were talking about it, planning it, making complicated charts for the moms to follow (who could remember who drove when, coming or going, and the morning, afternoon, and night seder carpool?). Not to mention the agonizing over who gets morning or afternoon, depending on the various moms’ work and life schedules.
Those days, I’d scribble to-do lists on napkins, backs of envelopes, or sticky post-it notes. I loved my little journal; I relished crossing off completed items one by one. The act of writing my lists gave me a feeling of control, even if most of the list was “eat breakfast, drive carpool, eat lunch, call doctor, drive carpool, arrange carpool…” I mean, who could get anything done in those days without noticing the clock ticking and getting closer to the time of an upcoming carpool? Time went very fast when there was always a carpool lurking around the corner.
Carpools. We loved to hate them, but inside we felt guilty for complaining; we knew we were blessed to have children to drive home. Even if those children sometimes (OK, often) fought or argued or kvetched in said carpools. That’s why a friend and I devised the “Quiet Game.” Whoever kept quiet for the entire ride home from school got a candy. It worked like a charm.
We’d know Carpool Craze would mess up our plans, but we filled books with to-do tasks. I’d write those long lists in my fancy journals and binders.
I’d categorize them and color-code them. I’d have short-term and longterm lists, and over a period of time, I actually accomplished many goals. But carpool trumped everything. Carpool was this huge force that you didn’t tamper with.
My most vivid memory of child-raising was sitting on those long carpool lines, edging my car forward and listening to the megaphoned staff call out my child’s name.
If my friends or I had to miss a carpool, it was a huge headache to get someone to switch with you. And to miss too many times, we were branded uncooperative carpoolers – not a
good omen for future shidduchim with disgruntled carpool organizers.
Carpools took up blocks of my day, precluding my accomplishing other activities from taking place in a reasonable amount of time. An item could sit on that list for weeks and be carried over to the next day and next and next…with various added exclamation points to remind oneself to get it done already.
Doctor appointments, extra errands, phone calls were squeezed in between the driving to and from school. The carpools were somewhat of a do-or-die. The bane of our existence. I’d plan my day around carpool duties and if that meant pushing off other things in life, then so be it. Life could wait. Carpools could not. So much was riding on those carpools. We wouldn’t dare mess with them. Our future reputation as a carpooler, our friendships, our children’s trust in us to pick them up on time… so much was at stake. The concerns were real.
These days, I have no such worries about the non-negotiable carpool taking up the bulk of my day. But, while I don’t have that concern, I think of how the carpool days prepared us for the realization that time marches on. We can plan and plan to do myriad tasks, but at the end of the day (literally), there’s really not much that’s so important. At any given stage in our life, we set our priorities. Yesterday, our priorities were carpools. Today, there are other things. Things that take up the bulk of our day. Things that tell us, no, no, no…don’t plan so much. What’s the point of planning? You’ll have to stop and go do the metaphorical carpool, and that’s so much more important.
The act of going day after day to pick up my precious children and bring them home safely for a warm supper at home was a very important task. It grounded us. It strengthened us. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and I’d have to say I’m one pretty strong lady, having driven hundreds of carpools from when my oldest started school till when my youngest finished driving.
So, I ask you: Anyone need a grandmother to do their carpool out there? I’m available (not!).
