One of the crappy things about my job is that I don’t always know when I am doing well, that is being a good mother. In some situations good mothering feels like bad, for example, when you are required to peel off a sobbing Kindergartner, hand her to an aide and gently shut the classroom door on both of them. Walking down the hall you might tell yourself that it’s Monday, the child is: tired, missing her dad and still processing yesterday’s frosting fest. You may recall how you lovingly tucked her in the night before and then got her up and going, jollying her through all the morning preparations. You might even remind yourself of how strong willed this child is and that she doesn’t need the message if she whines and cries loud enough and drags her feet long enough, she will get her way. But none of this will keep you from bursting into tears when you get into your car to drive home. Or at least it didn’t keep me.
I am tired too and sick. I’m reminding myself of all the reasons why this is especially hard for me today as well. And I’m praying.
UPDATE: In the heat of the moment I promised to come to school for lunch. It didn’t help the situation, but I had to follow through, whether or not she remembered. Christopher and I got there early and sat at the end of her class’ table. She sailed in with her class, gave us both a hug and then went and sat between a couple of her friends on the other end of the table. I chatted with the aide who told me that Eden accompanied her to the office with attendance and after that she was fine. When it was time to go to recess, she started wrapping around me again, but managed to divest myself with no tears from her or me.
