True Confessions of "that" mom

It's Wednesday. Somehow the week has escaped me. I worked all day Saturday in Charlottesville. Pooks was sick on Monday and stayed home from school. The house work still needs to be done and I am barely keeping my head above the pile of laundry that keeps growing. My week is all kinds of out of wack.
I am not sure many people know this or really understand this, but I work a full time job. I admit that there are times when it might appear I don't. Times when I am home at strange times, times when I am in my car more than I am anywhere else. It comes with a price. It may not be conventional hours, but with that comes the stress of not knowing where I am going to be from week to week, or timing, or brain power. There comes the part where your work brain never completely shuts down. Your phone is your office and it's with you all the time. Some weeks, like last week, are slower than others. Some weeks are like this one, where it feels like you are playing catch up all week.
Last week, I was cool, calm and collected. Last week I could do it all, foot in boot and all. Last week, I volunteered to bring snacks for the first day of SOL's. But that was last week. That was before I looked at my calendar for THIS week. Last week I had thoughts of super cute tags and punny snacks that would delight the children before their test and make them get out their sharpened no. 2 pencil with a light chuckle. "Oh, that Pook's mom, she's funny..." they would think to themselves. And I would hold the thought of their laughter in my heart all day while I wished them well on their very first standardized test. But like I said...that was last week. (I should have known, since in reality, there are no more no. 2 pencils, it's all on the computer...I know, right!?!?)

This week includes the panic that my travel check still hasn't arrived and once again my "budgeting" has been off. This week means that I am running from city to city to do my job, my car left as evidence of a paperwork tornado. This week, I am hobbling on my boot, totally over it, scrambling to make sure that I have all my bases covered for Pooks duty. This week, I would never even dream of volunteering to bring snacks, unasked, for the first day (and a day where I need to be in fairfax bright and early) of SOL testings. This week, we are lucky if our socks match, if I can find a shoe (they are sadly separated due to my boot situation), and if we remember everything we need the first time we walk out the door.
But I already committed to snacks. And I knew that all week. And in my head, I really still had very lofty dreams of cute little snacks...
But sometimes when you're "that" mom, it's not because of societal pressure. It's not because your kid expects anything extraordinary from you. I volunteered for bananas and cereal bars. I am pretty sure no one would ever be like, "Oh my gosh, Pooks mom brought bananas and cereal bars...and they are straight from the store! ICK!"
I know that's not real. I know it's all in my head. I know I set myself up for the stress and anxiety and, on weeks like this, the let down. But when you're born with "that" brain...expectations are HIGH.
So today. I go to my morning appointment, I run home to eat lunch on the way to the office and realize that the roomba, Rosie, is MIA. CRAP. I listen, thinking maybe she is still going strong, but hear no motor purring down the hall. CRAP. So I walk slowly down the hall, realizing that all the doors to the bedrooms are open, including Pooks. We don't let Rosie in Pooks room. CRAP. I creep around the corner, and see Rosie, laying on a pile of...CRAP. No, not real crap, but Pooks random stuff and jewelry from the depths of the corners of her room crap. And Rosie is all tangled up and looks pretty rough. Sigh. So here I am, middle of the day, what was supposed to be a quick dash, performing surgery on the stinkin Roomba. (Don't worry- she pulled through without too much trauma. Me on the other hand...all in a days work, right?). So I get Rosie settled, and I go to eat my lunch and I look at the clock and realize how late it already is. So instead of traveling to the office, I open up my traveling office and start writing reports...and I get lost in them. Which is good because I hate writing reports, but bad because now I have really lost all track of time and reality and have the sudden realization that it is WEDNESDAY, and I am supposed to have bananas and cereal bars at school by 9AM on THURSDAY and that BR will have school duty in the morning and I need to be on the road to Fairfax well before the doors to the grand ol' FFES ever open. CRAP, CRAP, DOUBLE CRAP. So I fly to Giant. But before I leave, I quickly find a good banana pun, create a quick little label, print them out on paper, and then cut them into strips. This did NOT happen as gracefully as it sounds. I think I clunked up and down the three floors of our house about four times before I made it out the door, satisfied and toting scotch tape and cute cut out notes, and then flew to Giant. I buy 24 bananas. I buy granola bars and nutrigrain bars. And I am disappointed in myself for not having anything cute to offer with the bars. Really, LM? Really? I get out of Giant as fast as physically possible (remember, I am in a boot- and thank you to the woman outside Giant who offered to help me carry my three bags of groceries. It was a very nice gesture but I had to laugh. She offered me help but the not the old woman next to her. I must have looked FRAZZLED) and I climb in the car where I furiously start taping notes around the bananas. They're too big and look ridiculous, but they're on there. I. can't. even. Now we are in serious panic mode. It is 15 minutes before busses let out. I have to get these bananas cutie-fied and to the school before I get stuck behind the car riders and busses so that I can make it home to catch Pooks get off the bus. I am sweating. I am panicking. I am looking at the old gentleman in the truck next to me and my eyes are begging him not to judge my ridiculous front seat full of bananas and tape. So I tape and I tape and then I realize...CRAP. I have about 10 bananas left and I am out of notes. How is this possible? I printed 8 sheets of three. I have 24 bananas. I do the math in my head about 20 times. This is right. This is right, right?!...so how?! And crap. Do I bag the idea of the notes, untape ALL the notes I already did and then just give them plain, old bananas and nutrigrain bars?! I can't. I just can't. I can't because I am "that" mom in my head. So I don't. And instead of being okay with floating on the breeze, going with the flow, and realizing that no one will be disappointed because no one actually cares but me, I choose to make my life 20x more complicated. I fly home and realize that the printer had run out of paper and I didn't realize it because I was in such a hurry to get out the door. Can I print them and get them on the bananas and still get to the school and back? Maybe the neighbors can get pooks off the bus so I can deliver these? Maybe BR will just have to be super papa bear and drop them off in the morning even though I am already asking him to be later than normal....SIGH. After the computer/printer finally decide to cooperate, I package all the bananas, now all properly labeled, and nutrigrain bars in a bag. Is there any way for her to get these on the bus? Do I really want to stress her out about getting 24 bananas to school without squishing them right before this test? Nope. So I email her teacher. And her teacher confirms that I can bring them after Pooks right gets off the bus, that she will still be there at 4:!5. Perfect. So I am feeling better. This is going to work out. I am going to get my not just plain bananas and nutrigrain bars to the school today and they will be there for tomorrow. All is well...and then the bus is late. We hop in the van, I am taking off while the door is still closing, Pooks is whining that she is hungry and I really just want to say, "Well you won't be hungry tomorrow because you will be getting a not plain banana and cereal bar so tough it out!" but I don't. I pull into the school, misjudge and scrape the bottom of my van on the curb. Who you looking at lady!? This is an emergency not plain banana delivery, coming in hot!

So they are there. And they have labels that say, "Don't 'Peel' nervous, you're going to to do great!" And the nutrigrain bars say nothing. And it's eating me inside. Because even after all of that, even after this week, of all the sweat and stress, cute bananas are not enough.
I don't do it to one up. I don't do it to stand out. It stresses me out and makes my life hell and generally no one notices my extra efforts. I torture myself because my brain says I have to. Because I have to live up to the idea and expectations I have for myself in my own head. And that is a ridiculous, stressful place to be. So while we are all sitting here looking at each other, wondering how they do it- we all have our thing. We are all "that" mom about something. But no matter what that thing is, we are all just doggy paddling our way through this world, hoping no one notices that we are barely keeping afloat. It may be pintrest, it may be organic food, it may be marathons, it may be wearing real clothes or losing weight. It may be putting food on the table, keeping the house clean or just getting out of bed in the morning. We all have our battles. Mine is not only all of the above, but also living up to my own expectations. And I can say that and laugh about it. Because at the end of the day, I have a happy, healthy little girl who loves me whether I give her fancy bananas or not. And that's what matters.

You've got to stand for something

Today I am proud of you. I am proud of you every single day but today is one of those days when I feel like maybe, just maybe, I am doing okay by you.
Our evening didn't end as planned. I got frustrated and yelled and you got upset and cried and instead of being the bigger, more mature adult, I just kept picking. And I pray that these nights are not the ones that go in your core memories. I hope the next part- the part where you were in the bathtub and I was helping you wash your hair and you were unloading the injustices of the day on me and I sat there and took them off your soapy shoulders...I hope those are parts you keep close.

There is a friend at school who you have trouble with. A love hate relationship. Love when it's just the two of you, and a power struggle when it comes to the two of you and the rest of your friends. You are both strong creative, and when you're on the same page, anything is possible- but when you both hold different opinions, you have a tough time finding common ground. You have already expressed that you have trouble with how this friend acts towards you and her other friends at times. So I wasn't completely shocked (or completely listening, I admit) when you started to bring up that you had a "bad day" because "friend" dot dot dot.
I was only half listening when you said, "remember last year when Jack did that not nice thing on the bus?" (Oh crap. Quickly trying to retrieve this memory...um, no. Was it THAT bad?! should I remember!?) While I was shuffling through last year's vault of conversations you continued to tell me, "He was holding his face like this and saying he was chinese to be funny. Well, today, they were all pretending to be blind. And it's not nice. I mean, if I was blind, I wouldn't want people doing that...so I said, "let's play something else"...and no one wanted to. And then *friend* took everyone. She took them all and I had no one to play with!" Pooks started sobbing. I said, "Well, sometimes it's okay to play by yourself. You were just standing up for what is right. You did the right thing"
And then you said this, and my heart stopped for just a minute.
"Yeah, I know, Mommy but sometimes standing up for the right thing is really lonely!"

And just like that, you were so wise beyond your years. There were so many things I wanted to say. You are right Pooks. You are so right. Sometimes, doing the right thing and standing up for what you believe in feels incredibly lonely. But sometimes being alone is better than being with a million people who don't do the right thing and aren't strong enough to stand up for what they know is right. And sometimes even though your head knows you're right, it still hurts your heart to stand alone. I wanted to tell you that I hoped you never let that sway you. But I know better. You are my advocate, my strong, opinionated, ready to fight the good fight girl. And I pray that nothing jades you into thinking that is not the right way to be. There are so many things left to tell you. But sweet, soapy, 9 year old you in the bathtub wasn't looking for a deep conversation. You were just looking for your mama to understand. And I do. So I said, "I know. But you did good." and kept washing your hair.

At the end of the day, when you're exhausted from school and play and I am exhausted from work and life, our exhaustion explodes and we both end up in tears. Today was one of those days. But those teary nights, the ones that run the entire range of emotions...those are the ones I hold close. They remind me that we do real life...we feel, we love, we yell, we hug, we think, we laugh, we sigh...out loud. And that it's okay that we do, because we do it together and at the end of the day, that's how we grow stronger in love.