What if I hadn’t been there to catch them?

Every time I dropped Jordan off, I started looking for her, wondering if she knew anything. Perhaps her child was born with a countdown – the soldier mom who knew exactly how much time she had, which is why she sat so intensely every morning, tenacious, rocking, praying, humming.

She always took the closest spot to the door and parked her tanky car where others had to go around it. Everyone else was waving, yapping and driving kids to daycare. Even the whining, sobbing kids were shoved in.

On another morning, I had a Zoom call at 9am and wasn’t done yet. I dropped off the other two kids, but when I got to the nursery, damn if there wasn’t a line of cars. Had the whole town overslept?

When it was finally my turn, I pulled into the space next to the giant SUV. Yes, there she was, the soldier’s mother, pampering her treasure. Didn’t she see we were all in a hurry? If she was going to have a prayer service every morning, why didn’t she park on the side to clear a space for those of us who need somewhere to be?

“Come on, Jordan,” I said, picking him up because I didn’t have time for his dawdling. I rolled my eyes at the soldier’s mother.

But of course she didn’t see me. She only had eyes for her baby.

After the change of summer time, the children did not want to get up. Just when I thought I’d cracked the morning code, the game shifted. I made Jax skip brushing his teeth and let Allie wear her pajama top to school. Jordan had the astonished look of a clown being shot from a cannon. I could barely function.