Here I am waiting for my daughter’s new iPhone to arrive. You would think that the excitement surrounding this event was something akin to a new moon landing or something of that magnitude. I am not sure if it’s a coincidence, but the release of the new phone so close to the death of technology guru, Steve Jobs, just made the anticipation for this phone beyond description. I bet it will make Apple billions. I am not putting down the iPhone; I get it. Possessing a Blackberry with its endless list of bugs and boo boos has made me too crave the new wonder from Apple, but I will wait a while. Yet, here I am still waiting for the UPS guy to come and bring the new iPhone to my door.
How come I have to wait? I wait because I work from home. Since I have to be here anyway, there was no cause for her to waste a half of a vacation day. However, as I sit in my office in my house, I suddenly feel “trapped” because I can’t leave lest I miss the UPS guy. No lunchtime errands, no latte runs – just me, my computer, my dogs, and my neighbor across the street who insists on yelling at everything, and my impatience for the UPS guy who has not yet arrived.
This waiting has given me an excuse to do some thinking. Yes, it’s dangerous, but I did it anyway. I have figured out that since I became a parent, I have waited about five years of my life away. How, you may ask? Okay, this is how: Waiting to drive her to school; waiting to pick her up; waiting to take her to dance; waiting to pick her up; waiting to take her and her friends to softball and basketball practice; waiting to pick them up; waiting to bring them to swimming lessons and acting class and part-time jobs; and yes waiting to pick them up; waiting to take them to the movies, parties, dances; waiting to pick them up, etc., etc.
It’s not all my daughter’s fault. Sometimes, I preferred to do the running with her. Other times, I was the mom that was available. You see, I was the work-at-home/stay-at-home mom – a combination that is a double whammy. Women who worked at offices thought I had the time to be the carpool queen and school volunteer and editors who knew I wanted a paycheck expected me to leave the mommy stuff behind and just do my assignments like their “full-time” office workers.
When my daughter went away to college, the waiting almost stopped. It was like a vacation to paradise. Sure, I worried a bit, as she rode the buses and walked everywhere but I didn’t worry that much especially since I had all that wait-less free time on my hands to do other things. I can’t tell you how nice it was to hear her on the phone say, “I have to go to dance” knowing she was getting herself to dance class and I wasn’t ready to jump in my car to drive the half hour to her old studio.
But then college graduation happened. I don’t know why I wished for this so much. I could have used her to do the now popular five-or- six-year college plan instead of the traditional four. For some reason, when she came home, the waiting seemed to pick up where it left off four years before. Sure, the waiting is different, but it’s still waiting. Today, it’s the UPS guy and other times, I wait outside the dressing room at the store in the mall, or wait at the new dentist because she hates going alone. And it’s not just her. My husband does the same thing. He wants me to go with him everywhere and wait while he does whatever he has to do. I don’t get it; I’m not that entertaining a person, and if it’s somewhere like Home Depot or Pep Boys, I am not even a civil person.
Anyway, the doorbell rang and the UPS guy gave me the iPhone. So, I called my daughter and told her it had arrived. So, what does she say? “Can you go with me to the mall to get a new cover for it tonight? Oh, and I put a hold on a skirt in Express? Will you wait while I try it on?”
Sure, why not. I have to do laundry so we can go while I wait for the clothes to dry.