Following Through

          Although I have been an educator for over 15 years now, my children continue to be better teachers than I am.  Sam taught me the greatest lesson last week without even knowing it.  He was spending the night with my mom since he did not have school the next day but it was a planning day for me.  He called late in the evening as I was gathering some things together for a training in the morning followed by a faculty luncheon.  Since Grandma watched "all the boring shows" on television, Sam was requesting that I gather up some DVDs and take them to him in the morning.  I told him that I would and went through the motions of gathering the videos up and setting my car keys on top of them so I wouldn't forget.
    The next morning I was very rushed and hurrying to get things in the car because I had to go all the way out to school to deliver the cakes for the luncheon and then get back to town in time for my training.  I was barely going to make it in time.  I despise being late for work.   I can keep my friends waiting around for me to show up for things and will slide in to a doctor appointment 5 minutes tardy, but I will not be late for work.  I reached for my car keys and there were those DVDs.  Oh, no.  I didn't have time to go by my mom's house in town before heading to school.  I would definitely be late for my training.   Surely Sam would get over it.  Mom probably had things planned for him to do anyway.  He's getting good at yardwork.    
     Then I thought about a friend of mine who lives in one country and has children in another.  I had just spoken with him the night before and he was in his hometown to see his kids and couldn't wait until they were out of school the next day so he get them.  I thought to myself that he had crossed an ocean to be there when his kids got out of school, so what was my problem?  I only had to drive 8 minutes to my mom's house to deliver some videos.  So I grabbed the stack of DVDs, broke the speed limit in a couple of neighborhoods and I turned onto my mom's street in record time. 
     As soon as mom's house came into view I saw my Sammy.  That little boy had gotten up before 7:30 on a no-school day and was waiting on mom's front porch for his mama to bring some videos.  The instant he saw me he started jumping up and down.  "You remembered!  I knew you'd bring 'em!"  I let him hug and kiss me and thank me profusely before I backed out of the driveway.  I told him I was late for work, but I really just didn't want him to see me cry.

     When I saw the excitement on Sam's face as he realized his mom followed through with the promise of video delivery, I had a flashback to the days when my little brother and I would sit on the front porch steps of our house and wait for our dad to pick us up.   Our parents divorced when we were quite young and since my dad had only moved across town he would pick us up to visit.  Sometimes.  Sometimes he didn't show up.  As I grew older, I learned to not wait very long.  But I remember Patrick sitting on the porch waiting for what felt like hours.  In his little heart he knew his daddy was coming to get him and he was going to sit there and wait.  I could not ever do that to my little boy.  I could not allow him to learn that he couldn't depend on me for something.  By the time I was in high school, I knew my daddy would not always be there for me.  I couldn't even count on him to remember my birthday.
     In the hustle and bustle of my single parenthood, I have gotten tunnel vision.  Most times I look ahead toward what the next project is, the next payment that is due, the next evaluation at school.  I see piles of laundry and dishes and jam orders.  I see the grocery list and a past due notice about getting the oil changed.  But I don't always see myself, especially as my children see me.  They should never ever see that they are not at the top of my priority list.  They should never learn that they can't count on me.   Yes, Sam would have eventually gotten over not having DVDs at Grandma's, but he probably would not have forgotten it.   He would have remembered that getting to work on time was more important than what he needed.  He might have gotten the idea that maybe he wasn't as important to mama as he should be.  

     I cried for five miles, broke the speed limit a few more times and clocked in at school at 8:01am.  That didn't matter, though.  I would have been an hour late if I needed to after seeing Sammy that morning.  Sometimes, the greatest lessons take the longest time to learn.