Where are my keys?

#SOL18

I couldn't find my keys after church today. Weird, I thought. Maybe I left them in the car.

As the kids and I walked to our van, I heard a humming, almost like a motor running. Turned out, it was our motor running. Because the keys were in the car. In the ignition. Which was on.

Everything appeared fine. Except my dignity.

I looked at the kids in horror. They were shocked. As we climbed in the van, I mentally reviewed our morning. We'd been in a hurry. I had to pick my 10-year-old, Emma, up from a sleepover. My 8-year old, Justin, has been fussing about his breakfast, so we were running late to pick Emma up. Which meant we were late for Sunday School where I was assisting. We were cutting it close.

We buckled and headed home to have lunch. Greg was tutoring all day today, so the kids and I were on our own. After a quick lunch, I needed to drop my 8-year-old off at a friend's house and then I'd promised Emma that we could dye her hair today. We were rushing to eat, rushing to tie shoes, rushing to get out the door.

We pulled into the parking lot of Meijer and I reached for my purse. I didn't see it on the seat next to me: "Jacob, hand me my purse." He looked around, and for once when he said "I don't see it," he was right. The purse wasn't in the van. It was at home. With my wallet.

And that's when I realized I need to Slow. It. Down.

I never used to be like this. But then I had three kids. And even when they were babies, I did pretty good. I could control what time we left because it was all up to me. But now they have personalities and quirks and procrastinations.

It doesn't seem to matter how early I try to get them ready to go, there is always someone who has to suddenly "go to the bathroom", which is code for ... well, that it's gonna take a while. Or someone can't find their shoes. Or they've been waiting so long for their sibling that they've floated back upstairs. It's not even herding cats...it's like herding, well, something that's more wily than cats.

It's not fair to blame it all on the kids, though. In the interest of full disclosure, I pulled that damn key thing about six months ago. I was late (hmmm, sensing a theme) to a class party. I raced into the building, then couldn't find my keys. And, well, you know how that story ends.

I'm not sure what the answer is. I just know I need to slow down. I need to be present. I need to focus on what's in front of me. I need to take the damn keys out of the ignition.