I saw you there in your pink panda flannelette pj bottoms, uggs and a hoodie.
You were pouring petrol into your car parked haphazardly in the side lane, hazard lights blinking.
It’s school rush hour on the busiest road in the town. You are just outside the school zone and trying to complete a school run, I am guessing. And you ran out of petrol.
Perhaps it wasn’t your car, it was hubbys. Or you underestimated the tank and the mileage. No matter.
You were performing an important task, and little did you know you served as a wonderful reminder of why, no matter how tempted, exhausted, sick or cold that I am, I will throw at the very least, a pair of trackies or jeans on for the school run. I certainly don’t get dressed up, but aim for merely dressed. It is all about being prepared for the worst.
No matter how comfortable I am in my plush, floor length, baby pink fleecy dressing gown and no bra, no matter if I am just out of bed after night duty, on death’s door with a sickness, I put something on that would allow me to exit the car at some point and not be looking for my dignity or my shoes. It may be my trackies, with a coat on over the top, but it is clothing.
I am not judging you, Dear Roadside Mum.
You did your best, and maybe you don’t care that you had to walk to the nearest servo in your slippers and panda pjs to get a can of petrol. Maybe what you were wearing to get the kids to school was THE LOWEST priority in your mind this morning. You certainly seemed to be cheerful enough in the 4.6 seconds that I drove past you.
Good on you, and I will be the first to pull over and offer you a lift if I saw you. But you give me the motivation to plan for the worst, especially around the school run. I was amused when I saw you, because I know the gamble you played, the odds you weighed and the conversation you had in your head before racing out the door.
Thank you and god speed.