1 Mother 2 Another

Monday afternoons always feel a little
hectic for me; Mondays are my “errands” day, full of
grocery stores and the cleaners and the drugstore and taking care
of returns and all the other million things your children HATE to
do with you. Then I come home for about ten minutes to eat and
switch mental gears as I get ready for the second half of my day:
pick the girls up from school, spend a few precious minutes with
them, then rush off to teach for the rest of the day.


I try hard not to be flustered and tired when I see the girls, so I
can be focused on them and enjoy them for however brief a time.
This past Monday my teaching started a bit later than usual, so I
was looking forward to having a good hour with the girls before
heading out the door.


Then Cora was invited over to a friend’s house – a
house she’s never been to before. I couldn’t say no. So
as I prepared for this past Monday afternoon, I pictured the
quality time Maddie and I would spend together, chatting about the
day and having deep talks while cuddling on the couch. I headed off
to the school to give Cora a quick hug in passing and pick Maddie
up for the day.


But when I got to school, Maddie ran at me bursting with
excitement. “Mom! Marina invited me over to her house to
play! Can I go? Please???” I looked at Marina’s mom,
who nodded that yes, this was a sanctioned invitation.

I turned to Maddie. “Baby, I have to
teach tonight, so if you go with Marina I won’t see you until
tomorrow morning. If that’s ok with you then you can go to
Marina’s house.”


Maddie was already running away. “Thanks mom!” she
threw over her shoulder.


Which is how I found myself riding my bike home from the school.
Alone. And walking into an empty house with an extra hour I
hadn’t anticipated.


Of course, I can easily fill that hour: the kitchen was a disaster,
the laundry baskets were overflowing, and the next day’s
meals were waiting for me to start. Filling the time wasn’t
the issue; filling it with my girls was what I was missing. I
remember just a year ago, they'd sooner turn down ice cream than
turn down time with Mommy on a day I had to work.


I know I’m raising them to need me less, to be more
independent, to mold a life in which I am not the sun around which
they revolve. That’s my job.


But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.