The task was taking the kids to the kid's museum and change my attitude. I am well versed on these solo trips with the kids. There are several ways I streamline the process. I carry no purse, just 10 bucks in my back pocket. I change Mac’s diaper in the car, so no diaper bag. That way, I have nothing to carry but the 33 lb toddler. Freeing my hand to hold the little girl’s wee digits.
Once through the door, coats get hung up. Then- its time for the stations. Stations are different play stations within the place, all with a theme. My children are different ages (6 and 3). Which means different developmental stages. They run to different stations. Pancake enjoys the arts and crafts, Mac enjoys the fire truck and the airplane stations. Yet still, there is only one of me.
I stand back, where I can eyeball both of them. And I feel bad because I don’t get to kneel near them, encouraging their wonder. Whispering, ooh and aahhing, calling attention to the neato.
Mostly, I jog back and forth, I give a quick squeeze and peck on the cheek. I smile, wave, wink or give thumbs up when they glance my way. But mostly, when it is just me, I get to stand back and monitor. And I feel bad. And sad. I mean, if Daddy was here . . . . .
. . . . . I feel like I am failing them because I can’t have Daddy here for them. I just cry thinking about this. Silently weepy. Fucking ache and cry inside. This is the undercurrent to the stress and anxiety I feel, while shepherding them out of doors.
But today. I stopped it, I fucking stopped it.
I hid around the corner with a huge two by four.
I heard it running down the hall and then,
At right moment I swung-
I lorded over it. Watched it cry even.
And I bent it into this.
THESE KIDS. THESE KIDS GET THEIR MOMMY ALL TO THEMSELVES ALL DAY. And I get them. And they get to be here, at this crazy kid’s museum. New colors, new smells, new things to do, new kids to chase around. New stuff every week here.
All of this floods me by the water station. This station is a set of water tables. One has levers to control the flow of the water. Another table has tiny rubber ducks that can be sent down a ramp.
As I was comforting “I’m failing my kids as a Mommy thought” and helping her pack. (THUS sending her on her way, never to be seen again). As I was doing this, I looked up.
My jaw dropped.
Now, I have been to this kid’s museum oh, some 600 times. I have been at the water station for some oh, 600 times.
Today was the first time I have noticed that THERE IS A BIG GIANT MURAL OF AN OCEAN ON THE WALL.
It just got better after that.
At the dinosaur station, when the Mac dropped into a long tantrum, and the girl yelped I WANNA GO HOME!! I sort of leaned against a wall. Just looking at them. And I remember what Mr. Hall once said, “It dosen’t matter what happens, they are just so cute.” And dang, he was right.
I was blissfully high on being a mommy today, blissfully flooded by just being here.
Bending steel bars will do that to ya.
And before we all know it, Mr. Hall will be back here all the time. And when we combine our super powers . . . welll . . . mhwaaa haaa ha ha . .
(this is not me but next time, i gotta try this ;)