Some days. I swear.
Sometimes I wonder what my kids will take from their childhoods- Will it be that I loved them unconditionally and did the very best I could on most days? Or will they recall, in graphic detail, the days I failed? The days I yell, blow my stack, and generally lose it are far outnumbered by the days I think I’m a good mom- but I wonder; What’s making the stronger impression?
Today the boys’ carpool got here early, so we were rushing out the door, half dressed and half-baked- never a good start. This morning I had an appointment with a new doctor, too. Once the boys got off to school, I got Abby dressed, myself cleaned up and headed out the door. Abby on my hip, keys in hand, the phone rang. I almost didn’t answer it- but I did.
It was Beanie’s school- he was supposed to bring snack today, and 18 pre-schoolers were waiting for something yummy. Yes, yes, yes, I will be right there- thank heavens for food storage, eh? I start cramming fruit snacks and juice boxes into the large plastic swan that is supposed to remind me to send snack- and the phone rings again. Hello? It’s the teacher again- she’ll meet me at the curb so I don’t have to get Abby out- fantastic! Back to food storage, and Abby has cheerily began to pull EVERYTHING from the lower shelves. The pantry is a disaster. Snack is late, my doctor appointment is rapidly getting sooner, and I’m sweating now.
I pack Abby out to the car and strap her in- at least she can’t do anything there- and go back to grab the Swan of Snacks, now with snacks jammed out it’s butt, my purse, keys and diaper bag.
Oh yeah, and it’s raining.
The phone rings again, and my foot slips on the wet tile in the back hallway as I turn to answer it. Jamming my hip into the doorknob, I think #*%$ it, and ignore the phone. Into the car I go. Swan? Check. Purse? Check. Diaper bag? check. Baby? Check. Paperwork for doctor? Nope. Back in the house.
Back in the car. List of things to talk to the doc about? Nope. Sitting on the counter. Back in the house again. Now I’m really sweating, running late, my hair, so carefully done ten minutes before, is now stuck to my neck and cheeks, and I can feel my eye make-up running. Fabulous.
In the car, now my cell phone is ringing. From the ring, I know it’s DH, so I ignore it. VrrooOOOOOM. Off I tear down the street, thinking I might still be able to deliver the Swan of Goodness and make my doctor’s appointment too.
And I did. But it wasn’t pretty.
Cut to this afternoon. I check my email. Oh CRAP! My quilters guild is meeting tonight- AT MY HOUSE! I feed the boys their snack, pop Abby in bed for a pseudo-nap and run to the bathroom. I’m gone long enough to do my business- but when I come back downstairs- Hell awaits me.
Beanie has, why I will never know, dumped out an entire new bag of Cheetos on the dining room floor, and is doing his happy dance on them. Jeffrey has opened a carton of Whoppers and they’re like marbles all over the floor, mixing in with the Cheetos of Happiness. I lost it. Bonafide, lost it.
They are up in their rooms, with explicit orders to never move again. I called their dad already, because today they are not mine, and told him what to expect when he gets home. I have 18 ladies coming over in two hours. My vacuum is clogged with Cheetos and Whoppers, but thankfully it’s a Dyson so it can handle it.
I have no hors d’oeuvres, I have a house that is a disaster, I have horrible, wild children who think food is for dancing, and I want to run and scream and hide. Some days I hate being a mama.
This is one those days I hope my children forget. I’m off to cry.