I overslept. I paid for the Tylenol PM I took last night at 10:30.
What was I thinking? I was thinking about my heavenly 2 hour Sunday afternoon nap I took and knew I wanted to
SLEEP so I was trying to induce sleep. However. I paid for it.
I need to leave the house by 6:45 to get to work by 8. I was just waking up at 6:45. Great. Fantastic start to this Monday. This last Monday that Easton would be commuting with me to work. He starts a new school April 1. Closer to home. Less money. All around a good plan, but it still makes me sick.
We hurried to get ready and got out the door by 7:15. I knew several counties were out of school for Spring Break so I was hoping this would help in our
late-ness.
I got Easton loaded in the truck. He'd dropped a glove. I retraced our steps and found it. I got in the truck to realize I left my phone. I turned the truck off to go back in to get it. I get back in the truck, I unwrapped Easton's granola bar and backed out the driveway.
I need a tissue mommy, I hear from the back seat. I open the glove box and get out a tissue.
I wanna do it myself.
No Easton, you don't need the whole pack. He wipes his nose and throws it back up front. He thinks he's helping by doing this, but my truck looks like a war zone.
Sweet boy, just hold it in your seat for the next 17 times you will ask before we even make it to the interstate. We have 2 miles to go before we make it to the main drag that takes us to the interstate. About 8 miles on that main highway. By about mile 5 I had already passed about 16 tissue and 3 wipes, half of my banana, cleaned up yogurt from the front of his jacket, which he thought would be best to eat with his fingers, passed back his milk and I was grabbing the 4th wipe from the console when I lost it. I. Lost. It.
Instantly, the guilt came over me. He's 3. He's
only 3. It's early. No one wants to be rushed. He's only little once. He depends on me. This is our last Monday carpooling together, as we've done every day since he was 12 weeks old. And that set the tone for the whole ride in. Quiet. Somber.
He knew it too. He was quiet. He was gentle with his words when he did speak. About 15 minutes down the road, I apologized. He looked at me with those big brown eyes as if to say 'you let me down, mom.' But, I apologized again. I asked him if he accepted my appology and he said yes. He sang Little Bunny Foo Foo all the way to school. He wanted to know what the Good- Fairy said. I reminded him.
And the good fairy said...
Little Bunny Foo Foo
I don't wanna see you
Scoopin up the fild mice
And boppin 'em on the head.
He sang it all the way in. We held hands walking in school. I told him I loved him. He knows I love him. I know that without a doubt. He bound in his room with a big smile on his face and kissed me and gave me my I Love You's at the door.
I've cried off and on all day long. These days are so short. They go too quickly. Most mornings we are up and out the door by 7am, and land back at home around 5:30 or 6. I then have 2 hours with him, which consist of laundry and supper and clean up and bath and then bed.
The guilt creeps in every so often. I rush, rush, rush to get him to school. Then we rush, rush, rush home to get to bed. Every day. It's exhausting. At times I really wish I could stay at home with him, but I know how much he loves his friends and his school (and hopefully will feel that same way about his new school). I think back on my own childhood when my mom worked. I went to daycare. Every day. But the afternoons were spent with her. I don't ever remember feeling anything less than HAPPY to be with her. It didn't matter what we were doing, we were together.
In between moments of tears, I offer myself
GRACE. So very quick to offer it to others, but so extremely slow to accept it myself. And. It's not excuses. It's grace. Grace to do better, starting now. Grace to do better, starting today. Grace, that when I pick Easton up, he will KNOW he has my attention for the hour and fifteen minute ride home. Grace that when we get home I can sit down and play a minute. Or just sit and hold him. Grace. Grace. Grace. Grace to let go of the little things that I think are important but to take time for the big things that really do matter. Grace. So freely offered. Yes so difficult to accept at times. And Grace to be able to get up and do it all over tomorrow, but with a new attitude.
Thank GOD He never runs out of it for me.
It's a new moment. Starting now.
