my grandmother always told me, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.
sorry, grams.
daycare. those people have really hard jobs. i mean, REALLY hard. there are like 497 other jobs in the world that i would rather do. and i'm so glad that there are some people patient/kind/crazy enough to do this job more or less willingly. we really are so "#blessed" to have found a daycare provider where colby is loved and well-taken care of. she really loves "matty," as she calls him, and linda, the father-daughter daycare team. when i drop her off she is happy as a clam. honestly. drop offs with jack are like a bad high school break up, every single day. colby does not give even a single shit. she's like,
peace out! and though she's usually excited to see me, the other day she started SOBBING in the car because she didn't want to leave "her linda," which made me feel AWESOME, believe you me. but, while it did sting a bit, it also made me thankful, because growing up i was lucky enough to
lurve our after-school daycare lady and i think it made the whole working-parents thing that much easier on me.
but. i must admit. linda occasionally gets on my nerves. i have a feeling it's one of those situations where she's already under my skin so everything she does is just disproportionately annoying as shit, though she is guilty of a couple of
legitimate transgressions. in any event, this occurrence really chapped my hide. am i overreacting? most likely. but i'll let you be the judge.
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| hate is too strong a word. i just didn't feel like making a new e-card. |
as you may or may not know, DM and i are currently getting our
a$$es handed to us by Life. as such, we asked one of our date night babysitters to help us pick up some of the slack this week. when I dropped colby off monday morning, i informed linda that jenny, the babysitter, would be picking her up that evening, as well as the next two days. linda makes this face:
and says, "
really? wow. hmmm.
okayyyy." then she yells into the kitchen at her father: "hey dad! did you hear that?
apparently colby's getting picked up by a
babysitter this week." ummmm, yeah. sorry that i have a job and an employer who is not my father and silly little things like bills to pay and mouths to feed. thanks though! what i really needed this sunshine-y monday morning was for someone who is 29 and does not have children and lives with (and is employed and provided room and board by) her parents to sit in not-so-silent judgment of my parenting prowess.
then she says, "well, make sure you tell her to come around the side gate because
last week when your
sister came [because you suck at motherhood and you couldn't pick colby up yourself then, either (okay, she didn't say that part, that is my own internal mom-guilt generator speaking)] she came to the
front door and
rang the doorbell." *GASP* THE HORROR.
then, i go drop jack at school and tell the school's administrator that our babysitter will be picking jack up from school through wednesday. i informed her that i wasn't sure whether or not i'd included jenny on the original "not a kidnapper" list. so we go back to her office and she's flipping through the big binder and she says, "bella, bella... what's bella's last name?" me: "um, it's jackson, actually." her: "oooh yeah! jackson! jackson....." me: "cheeseman." her: "got it! the reason I thought you were bella's mom is because she's pregnant, too!"
i'm not pregnant. i haven't been pregnant in two years. i didn't think i
looked pregnant. i was wearing a sweatshirt with a kangaroo pouch and i had my keys in it so maybe it just looked like i had a tiny lumpy baby in there. i don't know. maybe i need to lay off the cheese.
so that was fun.
and while we're on the subject of mom guilt. i just texted my sister, who is the room mom for my nephew's kindergarten class, and told her to make sure that she doesn't make working parents feel like assholes. this was prompted after receiving the fifth email in 48 hours from the self-appointed room mom from jack's class regarding the "book faire-with-an-E" at the preschool and the need for volunteers. don't get me wrong. i think it's super duper amazing that people have the time and energy and inclination to help out for nothing other than crooked smiles and crappy coffee. but, i'm not
not-volunteering because i'm having a spa day. i'm working. and i have used every single "get out of work free" card i have, and then some, over the past weeks and months for various and sundry momergencies. when i emailed back to let her know that it's really hard for either DM or I to help out during business hours, she replied that the 5 o'clock slot was available. oh. i'm sorry. i meant
lawyers' hours. not bankers' hours. and when i finally do arrive to pick J up, it's with my littlest curly dimpled lunatic in tow, and they both need SNAAAAACKS and mama has to make DINNERRRRRR while fending off the restless natives, then force-feed said natives said dinner, then give them baths aka water torture... so unless YOU want to watch my kids while i volunteer at the book fairE ... no, i apologize, i'm not going to be able to swing it this time.
can you tell i'm a little grumpy? well. it's partly because i've been mostly single-momming it for the past little while as my fancy lawyer husband is furiously busy doing fancy lawyer things. which is really freaking hard. in my opinion, single parents are the strongest bravest people on earth. BUT. have you ever noticed that when you are forced to do everything yourself, and you know you just have to f*cking handle it, you're actually better at it? like somehow, by taking away the crutch of relying on the other person, you get superpowers? not to mention negating any resentment you might normally harbor when your partner doesn't live up to your fairsy-wairsy expectations of the parenting quid pro quo. i find it very interesting, BUT IN NO WAY DOES THIS MEAN I WANT IT TO BE A REGULAR OCCURRENCE. i think, in part, it's also easier because i know it's going to end in a day or a week or whatever. if that was the status quo i might just die.
another reason i'm a crabby patty is that i haven't been sleeping because, in addition to my crazy ass insomnia, we have dreadful DEVIL BIRD living in the tree outside our bedroom. i think it's just one even though is sounds like the f*cking philharmonic of the amazon rainforest. seriously. and it only sings the songs of its people between 1 and 3 am.
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| i am seriously going to kill a f*cking mockingbird |
i'll end on a high note though! coming home to happy little children who have already been fed and bathed and pj-fied and are playing contentedly in their craft corner? best. thing. EVER. i wish i could afford to do this EVERY night! it's funny. my mother-in-law grew up in a wealthy family in iran. her dad had multiple wives and the whole bit. she tells some awesome stories. they had a "staff," just as i've always dreamed - shopping, cooking, cleaning, gardening - DONE. and she had a nanny/nurse who basically raised her. her mother generally only dealt with them when they were on their very best behavior. before i had kids i remember thinking, oh, that is so sad, i would never ever let someone else raise my children. and of course i still feel that way. except when i don't.
sometimes,
sometimes, i am well rested and well fed and my "to do" list isn't 13 miles long and i can afford to see the ugly parts of parenting for what they are - dips and curves on this wild rollercoaster ride that i wouldn't trade for the world. or better yet, i have the energy and creativity and wherewithal to expertly sidestep at least some of the potholes. but other times, i feel as though it would be
quite nice to outsource all the crappy parts so that i could just be fun mom. happy mom. attentive mom. snuggly mom. let someone else handle the cooking and the cleaning and the dinner diplomacy and the bedtime battles. i will do family snuggles and story time and sunday mornings and summer evenings and beach days and backyard adventures. and naps. i am AWESOME at naps.
