Oh, it didn't rain all day. The rain started two minutes after I got on the interstate to drive to carpool and continued until two minutes after I returned home.
The Loki, my 6 year old, adamantly refused to get in the car at carpool. The teacher stood by the car, in the pouring rain, coaxing him in. I threatened. I bribed. Nothing. The teacher got soaked. My car got soaked. I looked completely ineffective as a parent.
Getting wet was not the worst part of my day.
At 3 a.m., my older kid, Ander, puked in his bed in his sleep. I had laundry to do, but first we had three batches of pillows, sheets, blankets, and stuffed animals to wash. Yes, my 9 year old still sleeps with stuffed animals.
Early in the morning, before the rain ever started, I opened the fridge to grab milk for my coffee, and the syrup that Ander had precariously placed on the shelf jumped out, bounced on my bare toes, and exploded all over the floor and the underside of the refrigerator. I couldn't even yell at him because he was sick!
My husband had to work overtime. I also had to work overtime, which meant I worked from 7 a.m. until 2 p.m., except lunch, went to carpool in the rain, and came back after 4 p.m. to work some more.
I cooked lunch and Ander's tummy couldn't handle it, so I cooked two lunches.
I cooked dinner and burnt the pan. Fortunately, I did not burn the vegetables. But halfway through, I had to stop and clean the pan. The Loki declared dinner "yummy" (no small victory!) but he refused to eat any vegetables other than peas.
I had a politically sensitive matter to deal with for a volunteer project. I hate saying no.
I had to oversee homework, chores, and snacks. I had to give the epilepsy kid meds.
None of this even touches anything on my to do list in my planner. It's just the bonus stuff that cropped up. I did the stuff in my planner, too.
But it's okay. I signed up for this.
In two weeks, school will end.
My work doesn't usually require overtime, but in a month, my husband's work won't demand it, either.
The epilepsy kid is seizure-free.
We'll slow down, relax, and enjoy life again.
Sometimes, being a good mother doesn't actually mean doing any parenting. Sometimes, it just means surviving. Sometimes, it's okay just to survive.
The Evolution of Mom