I roll the windows down, blast the music, and yell I love you at school drop-off. My sixth graders pretend I'm a stranger. Then they need a Chromebook.
THE DAILY RECEIPT WITH JUST JESSICA
Welcome to Middle School, Where Your Mother Is Both Essential and Deeply Embarrassing
What I'm Admitting This Week
At school drop-off, I roll down all the windows and blast the music so loud the car has an opinion about it. Then I yell, at the top of my lungs, how much I love my boys and that they should have a good day.
I do this on purpose. I'd like that on the record before anyone asks if I need help.
The Car Line Report
Their friends are right there. A few teachers are close enough to hear every word. And my sixth graders, in perfect twin synchronization, lose their hearing. They act like they've never seen this woman or this car in their lives.
Medical miracle. It only happens on school property.
I keep going anyway. The windows stay down and the music stays up. "I LOVE YOU! HAVE A GOOD DAY!" lands on that sidewalk like a parade nobody ordered.
Things I Can't Believe I'm Managing
That same day, they forgot their Chromebook at home.
The same two people who couldn't hear me at the curb remembered exactly who I was, and exactly where to find me, the second there was equipment involved. They needed me to go get it and bring it back to them. All of which made me late for work.
I have, in writing, told these boys to use their brains. I paid full price for both of them.
The Receipt Drawer
The itemized cost of one Chromebook:
One trip to get it.
One trip to bring it back to them.
One late arrival at work.
One sudden, complete recognition of my existence.
Total due: nothing. I'm their mother. Billing is a joke I tell myself.
Balance remaining: one very loud drop-off tomorrow.
Filed Under: Absolutely Not
I will not be turning the music down. I want to be very clear about that, because I know somebody in a hoodie is hoping this is a phase.
I understand that I'm embarrassing. The sudden hearing loss was a clue. Understanding it and changing it are two separate jobs, and I only signed up for the first one.
One Thing I Know Now
I'm learning the job description. At drop-off, I'm an embarrassment. By the time a Chromebook goes missing, I'm essential. Nobody has told them it's the same woman.
They'll tell their friends I'm embarrassing. They'll also know for the rest of their lives exactly how loud somebody loved them. I'll take that trade, Chromebook delivery included.
The Last Word Before Dinner
I love you. Have a good day. Yes, I brought the Chromebook.
See you at drop-off tomorrow. Windows down.
Feral Forties Field Notes
Submit your case. What's your drop-off move, and what did your kid suddenly need from you later that same day? Tell me both.
Worth your time. My best friend Brandi writes Becoming One Heart (becomingoneheart.com), faith written from the inside of real loss, after losing her husband Derek in 2024. It's the kind of writing that changes something in you quietly instead of loudly.
One sentence worth keeping: they'll know for the rest of their lives exactly how loud somebody loved them.
With Love, Just Jessica
— Jessica
