Mommy, the Heel

There’s something about leaving my kids in the care of others for 11+ hours a day, sometimes longer when there are train issues (exhibit A: yesterday) that makes me feel like a heel of a mother on nearly a daily basis.  That’s a long day for my 6- and 4-year-olds that starts and ends with mad, terribly stressful rushes through our limited family time together, making it even worse.

Sure, I squeeze “I love you’s” in for the ears and hearts of both kids in the morning; but I’m sure their hearing it is muddied by the demanding “get your shoes on” and the snotty “if you had gotten dressed faster, you’d have time for some animal crackers” and my not-so-gentle brushing the knots out of Ella’s slept-on long hair as we race out the door.  The best is when I say “I hope you get blisters” when Ella chooses to wear her Crocs (sockless) over her comfortable New Balance running shoes despite my repeated pleas for her to choose the latter.  Nice mom.

At the end of the day, it’s not much better.  On a good day, we’re getting the kids from school just after 6pm.  They’re generally not the last kids to be picked up, so I’ve got that going for me.  Our greetings aren’t filled with excitement and hugs, having reunited after several hours apart.  Half the time, they’re smiley and cooperative; the other half, someone’s upset, be it me for having to beg them to stop what they’re doing so we can… just… go… home… or be it they for having their play or drawing time cut short so they can go home and be constantly parented by Dan and/or me.  And none of us actually say anything about it, but I'm sure we’re all dreading the hour and a half that’s ahead of us.

After deflecting Ella’s broken-record requests that we “go to a restaurant” virtually the entire time it takes us to get out the door of school and through the door of our house, the madness begins.  Chicken breasts aren’t thawed?  Nuts.  Think of an alternative, throw it together (sometimes with Ella’s (non)help) and call it a meal.  Reconsider buying canned or boxed meals –- they’d be so much easier but just so processed.  Announce, “dinner’s ready, wash hands” five times, get little to no reaction and either start yelling or just sit down to eat by myself.  Eat dinner -- Cal’s half sitting on his chair, constantly dropping food from his mouth and wiping his food-dirtied face with his shirt; Ella’s up and down, on her chair and off her chair, for one reason or another throughout dinner.  Fall into a negotiation about exactly how much dinner needs to be eaten in order to get a treat… and wonder, “one stinkin’ cookie is worth all of this?”  Give kids a cookie each.  Finish eating while Dan starts clearing the table and rinsing the dishes and watch him not put them in the dishwasher.  Put dishes in dishwasher while Dan and the kids head upstairs for showers.  Listen to battle of who gets to shower first… and then the battle to just get the kids to get their jammies, get undressed and meet in the bathroom for said shower.  Head upstairs to be the official dryer (or dryer helper if I'm in an encouraging-independence mood).  Sternly insist showers are taking too long, time to speed it up or “no books.”  Dry first kid off, tell her to get her jammies on and to brush her teeth (yes, Ella is typically first).  Do same for second kid.  Head to Ella’s room with Dan to perform the routine -– Ella picks books, Dan reads one, I read one, turn “Frozen” soundtrack on, cover Ella with crazy small “Blue Blankie” and nothing else, Dan leans over and gives Ella his good-night spiel, I do mine, start “Frozen” soundtrack over, blow kisses to Ella from the doorway, tell her “I love you” and acknowledge her “I love you, Mommy!”  Head to Cal’s room.  Pick non-fiction book to read to him.  Watch Cal rub Dan’s rough feet and call them both “weirdos” (and secretly wish he’d rub my tired feet).  Read book to him and try to retain facts myself.  Turn on the White Sox game on the radio.  Watch Dan give Cal goodnight spiel.  Give Cal goodnight spiel myself.

Take a breath.

My train was delayed just outside of the train station yesterday after work.  It was the infamous “switch problems” excuse.  When they announced that we were delayed 14 minutes (and still not moving), I realized I was screwed –- there was no way I’d get the kids before school closed at 6:30pm.  I arranged for a friend to get them and stay with them outside the school until I got there.  When I called to inform the school of this, I found myself on the receiving end of short responses and a judgmental tone that, in not so many words, suggested that I didn’t have my priorities right.  My poor kids.

What were my poor kids doing when I finally got to school?  Enjoying time with my friend. Taking a little hike around the school.  Playing red light, green light.  Telling my friend that we would be going to B-Dubs for dinner (really?).  Not stressed.  Happy and seemingly unaffected by my lateness.

So what did this heel of a mom do?  I took them to B-Dubs for dinner, of course, temporarily lifting my heel-of-a-mom label, which I quickly earned back by laying into them about taking way too long to leave school this afternoon.

Take a breath indeed.