“What are you going to do today honey?”
An innocent question from my hubby but notoriously leading, (it is often followed up by, “Can you do this for me?”) so I am guarded with my answer.
I was already dressed so I couldn’t get out of this one, “Yoga…and some writing.” Tough day. You can read about my opinion on working Dads vs stay at home Mums here – on who has it tougher.
But despite my feelings on this, I grappled to convey the work that my day contained. I found myself babbling, “I have to do school drop off….(my mind worked for something else but found nothing) and pick up.”
Deflated I looked at him, waiting for what task he was to bestow on me when he stopped talking. There was nothing further, he was simply enquiring about my day.
There was none of the usual drama at leaving the house and my kids were dressed and (relatively) clean. I got them in the car on time and I even put Julian’s shoes on (I congratulated myself on shaving minutes off getting out of the car).
Yoga was at 9:15, I usually didn’t leave the school till 9, there was a five minute drive to the centre then I had to get Leo in the crèche and myself into the Yoga class. The pressure was on.
We pull up to school (miles away as usual) and as I unbuckle Julian I realise he’s taken his bloody shoes off.
I freak out and scream at him. He looks at me defiant, “I’m not putting them on.” He scrambles past me and out of the car. I grab the baby and all the bags.
Julian is now walking barefoot over the grass. I pass him and he calls out, “Mum my shoes are too heavy to carry.”
Deep breaths, “Well put them on then!”
“Ok!” He promptly sits down in the wet grass and after repeated assurances from me that they are on the right feet, he stands up.
I get going and it’s minutes before I notice he’s barely moved.
“I have no energy.”
“Well, you don’t get energy unless you move. Move!”
He looks around, sees a passing car and just stands there, eyes following the car’s journey.
“Julian the birds! The birds will get you hurry!”
He looks up panicked, “What will they do to me?” He runs at me.
“They’ll swoop you. You’re easy pickin’s on your own.”
I’m officially the meanest Mum ever.
He legs it so fast to his classroom that he falls over the pavement and scrapes his knees. Thankfully by this time he’s forgotten about the birds, otherwise I may have traumatized him forever, the fear of being on the ground and vulnerable sending him into shock.
We hobble into kindy and then he’s terrified that someone will put a band aid on him. I assure him that’s not the case, I clean up his knee then show him the playdoh. When he’s happy Leo and I take off.
I tell Leo he’s headed to the crèche, not his favourite place. I try and warn him and tell him, “Mummy always comes back.”
But our crèche days are numbered.
Whilst I was stretching and only slightly enjoying the class, I hear the sound of his cries in my mind. When I go to pick him up they said he spent most of the time in his pram (he’s never in his pram). They called it his comfort zone.
He was pretty much telling them he was ready to go now.
I know he’d eventually settle but I’m not out to teach him lessons at this stage in his life, he’ll get independence on his own and to be honest I didn’t enjoy the class enough to push him through the pain.
But now I am enjoying a coffee whilst venting on my laptop and contemplating a snooze.
Love my life!