I will be the first to tell you that I am a stanch rule follower. I also have OCD tendencies but instead of being crippling, they actually work for me. My OCD requires me to have everything in my life neat and tidy. Except we all know that life is not ever neat and tidy. So I work compulsively to maintain order in my little piece of the world. There are way worse problems.
I am also undeniably Type A. I am so Type A that I make Type A look easy. In case you didn’t know, the term Type A was first coined in the 1950’s by a cardiologist named Meyer Friedman. He observed that Type A personalities were more driven, impatient, high-stressed, more likely to have heart disease and most likely to suffer a cardiac event. Which is bothersome.
Type A people want to get a lot of things done and often get irritated if their goal or progress is impeded. I have four children. So my goals and progress is constantly impeded. I spend my life maneuvering through a mine field of irritation. I try to fill every second of my waking moments being productive. Time urgency is my game. I never have enough time to do everything that I want to do. Time wasted in grocery lines, doctor’s offices or traffic jams is soul crushing.
I should probably go ahead and schedule an appointment with a cardiologist.
Type B personalities don’t subscribe to my self-imposed high stress lifestyle. They rather to work slow and steady. They of course enjoy achievements, but usually don’t suffer from physical or mental stress when they don’t achieve their goals. And these people are very hard for me to understand. But I get it. It takes all types to make the world go round.
Life has a way of balancing you out. Whether you think you need it or not. Probably why I birthed three very Type B children. Sometimes I wonder if their life’s work is to screw with me. Get a rise out of Good Ol’ Mom. See if her head will actually blow off of her neck.
Take today for example. We have a very structured school morning routine. I have things planned down to the minute. Two of my kids go to middle school and their bus comes earlier than the elementary school bus. So my first task of the day is getting those middle schoolers on the big yellow bus. I pride myself of them never missing that bus.
The problem is that today at 7:04, which everyone knows is we should be standing at the window watching for the bus to come down the street time, my daughter decided that her shirt just wouldn’t work. Which was perplexing because those 20 minutes that she sat on the couch, looking at her phone, her shirt didn’t seem a bother.
I told her she had exactly TWO minutes to change and she had better literally Usain Bolt up those stairs. But my child only bolts if there is ice cream and churros involved. 7:06 I was already yelling for her to come back down to the window. And again at 7:07. 7:08. At 7:09 I think I threatened her with dismemberment. She finally came back down at 7:09 with major attitude, like one gets after being repeatedly berated.
7:09 we are all at the window watching for my big yellow Saving Grace to come down the street. Even Dad was in on the action now after hearing all of the commotion. But Dad was all judgy telling me that I should calm down and relax. Which is insane because he is more Type A than I am. I told him those kids had NEVER missed the bus and he could thank me for that.
7:10 no bus. That was the normal time of arrival but sometimes he comes at 7:11. Our bus driver is nothing if not punctual. 7:11 no bus. 7:12 still no bus. Dad asked if I was happy with myself for yelling for nothing because clearly the bus was late today. At 7:13 I felt ice go through my veins. Clearly something was horribly wrong. I ran to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. I stretched to look at the end of the street where all of the other kids always stood waiting for the same bus.
There was not a single child there.
BECAUSE THE BUS HAD ALREADY PICKED THEM UP!!!!
Now my daughter will never admit this but in that moment I actually saw fear on her face. Not because she had missed the bus. Not because she would surely now be tardy for school. Type B people don’t worry about such ridiculous constraints that ACTUALLY MAKE THE WORLD KEEP TURNING. She was scared because it was her need for fashion expression that had knocked her out of free public school transportation today. And also her brother.
Long story short, Dad, who also probably felt a little silly now for poo pooing on my strict, high-stress school morning routine, volunteered to drive the kids to school. Maybe to prevent a cardiac event on my behalf.
The only problem, traffic in our town is terrible. That is EXACTLY why they ride the bus. So they pulled up at the school right as the tardy bell was sounding. YOU get a tardy! And YOU get a tardy. You know who never gets tardies?
Bus riders.
As cooler heads prevail, I can admit, had I not been razor focused on my daughter, I could have actually been looking out the window myself. At least my son could have made it onto the bus. And also I have to try to remember, it is just a bus. A bus that takes them to middle school. It’s not that serious.
Because I seriously don’t want heart disease.
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