Beech Tree News Network

On Wednesday night of last week, our granddaughter, Sabria, wanted to spend the night, which meant I had to take her to school the next morning (she just started kindergarten).  I called her mom, Natalie, to see where I was supposed to drop Sabria off the next morning.  Natalie said she knew where to pick her up, but she was unsure if that was the same place to drop her off, because she hadn’t yet dropped Sabria off at school, since she rode the bus each morning.
    Sabria overheard the conversation and announced to me that she ate breakfast in the cafeteria each morning and she should be dropped off there.  I told Sabria I couldn’t drop her off at the cafeteria, because it was near the bus lane and the school didn’t allow unaccompanied children to be dropped off there.  I said I could park in the back parking lot then walk her into the cafeteria.  She told me she was too big to be walked into the cafeteria. 
    I said I could drop her off at the back of the school where I had picked her up when she was in preschool, but she would have to walk from there to the cafeteria then back to her class, and I was worried about her getting lost.
    “Gee, it’s the third day of school, and you’re about to make my brain explode,” she said.
    That afternoon when I told Natalie what Sabria said, Garey commented, “Your mom has a gift for taking something simple and making it complicated.”  All three of us laughed, because it was true. 
    I had time to mull that over for a few days and I think I’ve discovered why I do that.  The first reason is fear, and it’s not the fear of failing or of looking foolish, it is the fear of messing something up for someone else.  I really hate it when someone else has to suffer for my ineptitude. 
    I wanted to make sure Sabria got to eat breakfast in the cafeteria, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t break the school rules about when and where to drop off my granddaughter.  School administrators have enough to contend with.  I ended up taking Sabria to the designated drop-off point at the back of the school, only messing up by getting out of my car in order to help Sabria get out—in order to keep the flow of traffic moving, the teachers prefer helping the children out of the vehicles themselves.  Considering all the angst involved, I did fairly well.
    This brings me to reason number two: awareness.  The information that runs through my brain during any given situation is enough to make anybody’s brain explode.  And I want to make this clear, this information presents itself to me, it’s not the other way around.  Although there are times and situations in which I am totally oblivious—ask my friends who wave at me when they pass, only to get no recognition—I am usually hyper-aware. 
    Garey had some tests run last week at the Medical Center.  While waiting for him in the large waiting area, I was reading “The Girl on the Train”—a British thriller.  At some point, I stopped reading, but didn’t look up.  I silently quizzed myself on the activity that was taking place all around me.  I knew how many people were in that big area.  I knew how many were black, white and Hispanic.  I knew what was on TV on the other side of the room.  I knew who was knitting, who was bouncing a grandchild, which guy had a cast on his leg and which guy was in a wheelchair.  I could tell you what the conversations within earshot were about, and I could tell you what happened when Rachel, the girl on the train, got into a fight with her ex-husband, Tom.  I didn’t have to make a conscious effort, the information was just there.
      I have a feeling there are a lot of people out there just like me.  They’re trying to be good people by not making life harder for others, and their brains are bombarded with all kinds of information to be considered in the effort to do so.  The only difference is they have more balance.  They don’t over-complicate things.  But hey, somebody’s got to be in charge of making mountains out of molehills.  It might as well be me.