Sometimes, I feel like I am in a special hell all of my own. I can’t be alone, can I? This hell involves that dream where you are trying to do something, and no matter how hard you try you NEVER succeed: you keep running, or searching, or screaming and yet you make absolutely no progress. None.

I got home from picking my son up at a game yesterday and he noticed his lacrosse gloves were missing. While he was busy punching his bag, tearing at his face, screaming in frustration, I calmly went to the phone and made two calls: one to the school where we’d just been, and one to his school. “Um, have you seen a pair of lacrosse gloves….” I asked sheepishly.

Later that night, I ask him, “So what’s wrong with your cell phone? Let’s make sure we figure that out, because I need to know when to pick you up.” (Meanwhile I’m thinking, thank god for that insurance plan I was duped into buying.)

Hmm. Wait a minute–the cell phone?! Where IS that dratted cell phone? At this point, it’s late. I tell him I’ll look for it in the morning.

This morning, we’re in a rush. He has a new bus driver who turns up two minutes earlier than the old bus driver. That two minutes has turned our lives upside down.

As we head for the door, he grabs his sports bag. “Where’s my other cleat?” he says, mildly freaking out.

“In the living room,” I say, sipping my coffee (where you kicked them off in a fury last night, I don’t say, because I know by now that doesn’t help).

“My helmet? Where’s my HELMET?” he starts screaming.

Missing, that’s where it is. Like all the other things any of you kids ever touch in this household, I wanted to yell. But I didn’t.

Now we have four minutes to get to the bus stop. It takes six minutes to get to the bus stop. I drive 80 miles an hour on the highway. Good thing I’m European. Good thing I like coffee, too.

All this before 7 am this morning.