Toot Toot goes the Clarinet

Remi left her clarinet on the dining room table yesterday, her lesson day.  Crystal clear is that it should have remained right there where she left it. But I couldn’t and it didn’t, and now I share this: I had no shoes on. My hair was unwashed and wild. I left my friend making latkes, the dogs uncrated, and for what? A Chanukah miracle?

Last bus I'll ever chase...

Like a cheetah hunting its prey, I raced down the route I assumed the bus drove each morning. There she was, Bus #27. Miracles do happen. I was driving shoeless, stuck behind an oil tanker in slo-mo, and the bus wasn't stopping. Neither was I. I was el fuego baby and a little loco at the same time.

First opportunity to hand off the clarinet was on a double-yellow-lined street. I ground on my breaks, slammed the car into park and ran barefoot like a Kenyan in the hills to catch the bus. Except I'm not Kenyan, the street wasn't hilly and I don't run anywhere - ever. I wasn't fast enough or coherent enough to realize only one kid was boarding, and I was too out of shape to make it to the bus door fast enough. I'm a bit removed from my Olympic sprinting days.

Second stop for the bus, second barefoot chance. Missed the bus door by the length of the oil truck and pulled my calf muscle so badly that I crumpled to the ground in agony, clarinet crashing towards the double yellow line. It was a great comfort to me that with each failed attempt, I was gaining a loyal Bus 27 audience. The bus kept chugging along towards its academic destination sans clarinet.

Side bar: I want to thank the dads at the double-yellow-line-street-bus-stop for smiling at me while I was on my back staring at the cloud formations above me. I wouldn't dream of asking you for any assistance. Heck this is obviously a job for a mom...

Third and final bus stop before the turn to school. A major intersection and my only remaining barefoot chance for a baton hand-off. Running the clarinet into school barefoot was where I drew the line.

This time, I pulled up in the lane next to the bus with two cars ahead of me. Again, I slammed the car into park, grabbed the clarinet, the music book and the red binder and threw myself towards the bus door. The light skipped to green. Cars in front of me starting moving. Cars behind me created a cacaphony of horn tumult, and I was standing in the middle of traffic with no shoes on and a woodwind when the bus doors opened. I actually heard cheering. I threw the clarinet at the bus driver, hit him with the book (bam) and the binder (bam) and screamed "Remi Beeeeerrrrrlllleeeeennnnnt!"

Mission accomplished. Triumphant mommy fist pump and a painful limp back to the car. I was the Clarinet Carl Lewis for a brief second. I also cannot put any weight on my right calf 12 hours later – testimony that no good deed goes unpunished. Embarrassing but true: The thought never enetered my mind that I could have taken my time, made myself presentable, and driven to school.

When I picked Remi up at the bus stop today, she thanked me for my heroic effort. Validation. And then she said, "If only you remembered to sign my practice book, I could have had a 100."