By the time they're old enough to appreciate it, they likely won't remember it. That's the simultaneous joy and curse of motherhood. We run ourselves ragged for our kids, and they don't even realize it. Take Thursday for example...
The text message came a little after 1:30. "I added a learn to skate class tonight from 530-630! Hope Sydney can make it"
Four hours notice. Everyone else in the class had been notified on Tuesday, but since we'd skipped class that night to go out for Jeff's birthday, we'd missed the announcement.
Jeff had to work, and so I left work an hour early, stopping at a McDonald's drive-thru on my way home. I'd carefully calculated in my head how much time it would take to get the kids, get home, get them dressed, and drive to the rink. What I forgot to factor in is how very, very bad I am at calculating how long it will take to do something in.
I picked up the kids from the after school program and handed them their Happy Meals to start eating. It was 5:10 p.m. Right on time! As I drove, I barked instructions: "When we get home, Sydney, you're going to take off your coat and go to the bathroom. AJ, get some long johns on. You can skate while Sydney's at her lesson."
We made it home, pulling into the garage at 5:15 p.m. Still on time. I reminded Sydney to go to the bathroom as I juggled to get their backpacks, my purse and travel mug out of the car. "AJ, don't leave your gloves in the car. Sydney, take your Happy Meal. Don't forget to go to the bathroom."
Sydney loves to race to the door to the house so she can get there first. Once there, she plants herself in front of the door, which she is unable to open while wearing mittens. Of course it's nearly impossible to reach around her while carrying two backpacks, a purse and a travel mug.
"Sydney, get out of the way," AJ complained, not realizing that he was an obstacle, too.
I juggled what I was carrying enough to get in the house. "AJ, finish eating while I get your sister dressed."
Sydney piped up, "I'm full."
"There's no way you could have eaten enough yet," I said. "But let's get you dressed."
Gus, by now, was whining in his kennel. There was no way I was adding to the chaos by letting him out.
"Sydney, bathroom!" I reminded for the third or fourth time. "AJ, why aren't you eating?"
"Oh yeah," he answered. "I forgot."
Somewhere in the midst of dropping backpacks and bags on the counter, I realized Sydney had gotten really quiet.
"What's wrong Syd?" I asked, crouching down to her eye level. It occured to me I was rushing her pretty hard.
The floodgates opened. Yes, she was upset. Big tears and bigger sobs, "I... miss... my... Daddy!"
"You miss Dad?" I asked, dumbstruck.
Sniffle. Sniffle. Oh yeah, she was in full Oscar-worthy drama mode.
"I... miss... Daddy!"
"You just saw him this morning, and he'll call you at bedtime. Take a deep breath. We need to get ready."
5:25 p.m. Sydney was not yet dressed. AJ was not yet dressed. I had not yet changed from my work clothes.
More whines from Gus in the kennel.
More whining from the girl on my knee.
"Okay, enough. Let's get going," I tried to sound more cheerful. We're gonna be late."
"Mom," AJ pointed at me with a grin on his face. He'd caught me saying what I've been telling him not to say. "You said 'gonna'!"
"Not the time, AJ!"
And so it continued. By the time we reached the rink and got the kids in skates, we were 15 minutes late. Oh well.
But I've come to appreciate the calm of standing outside on the side of the rink as the wind hits you in the face and chills you to the core. Strangely enough, it's somehow soothing.
Oh, who am I kidding? It's just really, really cold.
But it does clear your mind of all the day's stresses. Or maybe it just numbs you.
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