There are days when I have my shit together. The kind of days where the sun shines, the birds sing, and the children are well-behaved.

This my friends, this post ain't about those kind of days. Nope, this is about one of those days where the ugly comes out of mama, the children are hellions, and we all wonder if I'm the best person for the job.

Today was a preschool day for Sterling. Usually one of our favorite days. She gets to go have fun and play at school. Bennett and I get a couple of hours to enjoy one another alone, and we get our grocery shopping done. It is a win for all.

I should have known something was up when we went for pickup, and Bennett laid down in the middle of the hall at school and refused to get up.

Homeboy is a tank. A HEAVY tank. And his refusal to walk back out to the car meant one thing: I was going to have to carry him out. And I am not talking Saving Private Ryan heroic type of carrying. I am talking tired, sweaty, frazzled mom carry. Which means that you are always thisclose to dropping something important. 

Sterling was tired and grouchy, but we made it out to the car in one piece. Since I was carrying Bennett, I decided to buckle him into his seat first, and that was the start of my poor decisions today.

As I was taking care of Bennett, Sterling took off running. I let her run for a little bit, it's not uncommon for her to burn off the last of her steam as we are walking to the car. But her preschool is at the intersection of two BUSY roads, so it always makes me a little nervous. After I called her back to me and she ignored me, I knew we were up for some trouble. I took off after her as she raced happily,  straight for the road.

Just as a reminder, I was hit 6 months ago while walking by a car, and still go to Physical Therapy several times a week. Running is not currently in my repertoire. But I didn't have a choice, so I booked it after her as she scooted merrily toward the roadway. We had gotten about three yards from the street when she turned around and saw me. Laughing like a loon, she immediately sped up and ran as fast as she could, straight for the street.

I managed to catch her about a foot and a half from the roadway, as cars zoomed merrily past us. My adrenaline was pumping, my emotions were high, and I popped her hiney in front of the whole preschool. Yep. I am that mom.

It would have been worth it if it had made the slightest impact, but she laughed merrily at me and said "whee Momma, FUN!"

I picked her up and carried her back to the car, giving her crap the entire way. Not the slightest of which even made a dent in her enthusiam.

And I thought to myself, "Well, it was terrifying, but we have our blog post for today". And it would have been awesome if it ended there.

But it didn't.


I buckled her in, kissed her forehead, and gave her the snack that we do every Friday after school. A carrot applesauce packet and a "Yummy Bar". I walked around to my side of the car, with Bennett screaming every step of the way.

A quick goodbye to my friends who had watched the entire thing, and an assurance from my friend Lara that I didn't look *quite* as crazy as I felt, and I climbed into my car.

To the unmistakable aroma of carrot.

And then I looked into my back seat, and saw carrot destruction of epic proportions. Carrot sauce was in her hair, coated into the power window switch, all over her car seat, poured into all the cup holders and crevices she could reach, and smeared all over my leather seats.

It was a carrotastrophe.

I called Lara over to show her the wreckage. "Are you going to be OK?" she asked me uncertainly. And although I was, it took me several deep breaths to be sure.

As I was driving home, processing all of this, and mindlessly following the flow of traffic, I happened to catch the unmistakable flash of a speed camera. Which was the icing on the cake.

If ever I have needed wine at the end of the day, this is the day. Instead, I am enjoying a nice green smoothie. That's almost as good. Almost...

Look at that face, full of remorse and contrition.

Pretty glad expressions can't speak for themselves, although I am FULLY confident I know what this one is saying...

Any idea how freakin hard it is to get carrot goo out of these little crevices?

And get my updates in your email in-box by using the link on the right sidebar.

No comments:

Post a Comment