Midlife Mom Math: One Car, Three Schedules, Zero Gas Money

(Also known as: Why I'm Crying in the Parking Lot, Again)

Let’s be honest - midlife motherhood is basically one never-ending word problem. Except instead of solving for X, you’re solving for where the hell your kid is, why your phone has 4% battery, and how long you can run on fumes - emotionally and literally.

Welcome to Midlife Mom Math, where the numbers don’t lie but your teen definitely does.

The Equation:

One car + three conflicting schedules – gas money ÷ patience = a slow descent into madness.

Throw in a dance practice across town, a late-night Walmart trip for graph paper, a torrential downpour and boom! you’ve just completed AP-Level Parental Burnout.

Real-Life Word Problems:

1. If Mom leaves the house at 7:15 a.m. to drop off Teen A, then rushes back to take Teen B to school at 8:00, swings by work at 9:30, then picks up groceries during lunch, and leaves again at 4:30 to begin the ECA  loop until 8:30 p.m.

- At what point does she forget who she is and start crying in the Walgreens parking lot?

2. If the tank is on E, the credit card is maxed out, and the child still insists on going to Chick-Fil-A after rehearsal, how many deep breaths will Mom take before she just hands over the debit card and gives up?

Answer: Infinity.

3. If Mom is driving 49 minutes to get to a 14-minute event, waits in the car for 78 minutes because it “ran late,” then drives home in 22 minutes of traffic

- How much gas did she waste on something she didn’t even want to attend?

Bonus: How many existential crises can fit into one ride home?

Additional Variables to Consider:

Kid A forgot their homework. Again.

Kid B now needs poster board, immediately.

The dog peed in the kitchen.

And Mom? She hasn’t eaten since breakfast, yesterday.

Gas? Who needs gas?

Listen, I remember a time when I filled up my tank without checking my bank app first.

Now I’m out here doing mental gymnastics in the Puma parking lot, asking myself if $20 will get me through the week.

Spoiler: It won’t.

But you’ll still try, because you’re a warrior queen with a quarter tank and a whole lot of trauma-fueled determination.

Midlife Mom Math isn’t logical. It’s not tidy. It doesn’t always add up. But somehow, every day, we carry the one, rearrange the chaos, and show up anyway - running on caffeine, resentment, and the occasional french fry stolen from the backseat.

And honestly? That’s some advanced algebra my friend.