My First Minnesota Caucus

In my life with two kids under the age of five, something that only comes around once every four years feels magical.  This Minnesota presidential caucus was my equivalent of half price diapers or sippie cups that don’t leak – a mysterious and critical rarity. 

I don’t consider myself a particularly political person, but I’d like to think I’ve learned a few things about fighting for my rights.  I’ve fought for equal share of dishes and laundry with my faithful husband.  I’ve negotiated sharing of glitter markers between a headstrong kindergartener and her toddler brother.   I’ve suffered through enough mom guilt as a working parent.

In order to caucus, I had to be at the local middle school by 7:00pm and stay for an hour.   Most Americans would call this reasonable.   I call this a violation of ‘the witching hour’ rule.   If you get your kids to bed before the end of the witching hour, everyone wins.  If you miss this window, it could turn into the parenting equivalent of a mind-numbing filibuster. 

My husband and I planned to keep the kids at home and stagger our participation.  Yet at 5:03pm, I heard the fateful ding from my phone alerting me to a new text.   My husband had to work late.  Dammit.  On days like this, Murphy’s Law is a powerful nemesis. 

I frantically called our last minute babysitter.   When she arrived an hour later, I threw my remaining dinner into a Ziploc baggie and agreed to let my kids eat Fruit Loops instead of broccoli.   Whatever.  I just needed to get to the middle school by 7pm.  I haven’t had this much determination to achieve something since potty training. 

Yet, as I drove from our quiet neighborhood onto a side street, I had to slam on the brakes.  Red taillights streamed ahead of me.  My first thought was of prayer.  There must be an accident.

But as I inched along, seeing more and more cars squeeze into the line of traffic, it dawned on me that all these people may actually be going to caucus, too.   And I began to question if our founding fathers realized that getting thousands of voters to one location within a one-hour time window was sensible or sustainable - even with fancy traffic apps. 

By the time I finally made the two-mile drive, I felt like I was already late for the party.  The building was buzzing with people of all ages.  Local high school kids were directing people to the right classroom for their voting precinct.   Everyone else looked as excited and eager as I was for this freedom.

In this moment, I knew I was doing the right thing.  I was being counted.  I was being a good mom, even with my kids eating sugary cereal and making messes at home.  

There I was, in a small classroom with my neighbors hearing candidates talk about their passions for the future.   While at times I felt like I was electing a senior class president rather than a federal presidential nominee, I still felt enchanted.  I was voting for myself, but also for my children. 

Participating in this Minnesota caucus felt like another of those important parenting lessons.   You don’t always have to be grand or wealthy or wise; sometimes you just have to show up.