It's not really much of a stretch to say that I spend a great deal of my time babysitting adults. Because of that, I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is no difference between "kids these days" and older people. Lazy, rude, irresponsible ... none of it is something that can be blamed on a generational thing. Grandma is just as capable of being a doucheface as is that 19-year old kid down the street.
I'm pretty sure nobody's mom raised them to be a doucheface. It's something some people decide to do all on their own.
Which is all to say, some people do stupid crap without any concern for consequences. Old people do it, young people do it, all sorts of people do it. But, I would really like for my kid to not grow up to be one of those people. That is why I let her fall flat on her face from time-to-time.
This morning was one of those face-flattening moments.
We have a morning routine that depends greatly on Alexis being self-sufficient. I wake her up and make sure she's moving, but then it's up to her to make sure she gets dressed, eats breakfast, brushes her teeth, and combs her hair. The consequences for failure to act like a responsible human being are clear -- I will send her to school in her pajamas.
It hasn't ever actually happened, but just mentioning that it's a possibility is like waving a magic wand and sprinkling cooperation all over the kid.
The thing is, the kid pretty much does what she is supposed to do every single morning. Occasionally, I will have to remind her to get moving, but mostly she's ready to go when I pop into the kitchen ten minutes before the school bus is set to arrive down the street.
But not this morning. If you follow along on Facebook, you already know what happened, but the long of the short is that I walked into the kitchen and found the kid reading a book. She was half dressed, but not really. Her teeth weren't brushed, her hair was a mess, and she hadn't found her shoes yet.
I looked at her and asked a simple question, "Did you notice what time it is?"
She slowly turned her head towards a clock and then she FREAKED OUT. Total panic.
Ten minutes later, she still hadn't brushed her teeth or combed her hair, but I declared her ready enough and shoved her out the front door. The only problem was that the bus was already at the stop -- half a block away. I told Alexis to run. I watched as she turned on her turbo setting and raced her way down the street.
The lights on the bus flashed.
And flashed.
And flashed.
It's downhill from our house to the bus stop, so Alexis had an advantage. She made good use of it, too, and managed to run up to the side of the bus ... just as the bus driver pulled away from the curb. She literally was five feet from making it to that bus door.
The bus driver never saw her. I could mention the bright yellow pants the kid was wearing and the fact that ARE YOU FREAKIN KIDDING ME? THE BUS DRIVER DIDN'T CHECK THE MIRRORS.
But whatever.
The fact of the matter is the whole thing never happens if Alexis had gotten dressed like she's supposed to. I won't tell her that I think the bus driver shares in the blame for the whole debacle because OWN YOUR MISTAKES, PEOPLE. There's nothing that makes me consider violence more than when people blame others for their own messes. If you don't put your shoes on until the bus is already in your neighborhood, you're hurting your odds of making it onto that bus. Enough sad.
But ... man. MAN. Alexis' face when she turned around and ran back to the house, sobbing because she had missed the bus ... it was pitiful. There were no further consequences because I knew she was very aware that she had made a mistake. I told her to get in the car, quickly grabbed my purse, and left the house without combing my hair or pouring myself a cup of coffee.
I didn't say a word about how she had impacted me, by the way. I'll save that for a day when she's not already beating the crap out of herself.
During the ride to school, we talked about how the morning could have gone differently. She had good ideas and seemed to learned the lesson she needed to learn. Still, I can't help but hope that she never again feels the misery that she felt when she tried as hard as she could to make something work and it wasn't good enough.
