Full-time Mom

My son came home from school last week with a note in his pocket. Thank goodness, it wasn't from a teacher. It was from a new friend's mom. My son wanted to schedule a play date, but he didn't know his own phone number yet. The mom scrawled her number on a torn envelope and stuffed it into his pocket.

When my son got home from school, he leaped off the bus to tell me about his new friend. His first impressions of this boy were:

"He's strong!" and "He's helpful."

Our apple-picking plans were rained out, so we invited the little boy to our house to play. His mom brought him over and my son's powers of observation became clear. This kid wasn't just strong. He looked like he was juicin'! This was a seven year old? He practically had a 5 o'clock shadow!

I hear you're really helpful! I mentioned encouragingly.

"Yeah", he responded, "but people think I'm a bully."

What is a mother to make of that volunteered tidbit?

I looked at it two ways: On one hand, my sweet, goodhearted angel is about to be corrupted by the 2nd grade thug. I had a very hard time imagining my incredibly compassionate and sensitive little sweetie as a member of a pack of seven-year-old hooligans. On the other hand, at least he is on the class bully's good side!

The bully turned out to be a sweet kid. He was very protective of my little girls who kept bursting in on their big brother's games and he cleaned my son's room for him. He even made his bed. He may be considered a ruffian, but he's a tidy, well-mannered one.

There was an odd maturity or worldliness about this boy that made sense when his mother explained that his older brother had a rare form of cancer. The kid had been through a lot in his short life and grew up too fast as a result. I began to think that it might be a good idea to encourage this friendship after all, for both boys. I ought to encourage my own friendship with his mom. She seems like a strong, smart, amazing, positive woman.

My son seems to be doing well in school. He does all of his homework and I haven't received another call from his teachers, yet. I sent his teacher a note requesting she call him by his full name. She wrote me back that she would comply. I'm a happy mom again.

* * *

My other child is also enjoying school. No, not my daughter.

Law school is now in full swing. My husband is out of the house by 7 o'clock in the morning, and home by 8 o'clock at night. He gets home just as I'm finishing putting the girls to bed. He eats his supper, submits himself to my interrogations about his day, reads a couple of sports blogs, and heads back to the library until sometime after midnight. He's having a ball. Law school is truly where he belongs right now. My husband has boundless energy to keep up with his reading and assignments. I really admire his determination and positive outlook.

What is it like to find your calling?

* * *

While my husband is finding intellectual stimulation and challenge everyday in law school, I get up, get the kids ready for school, load my son into carpool, get my daughters dressed, take my four-year-old to nursery school, run errands, bring the baby home for snack and nap time, get the laundry or the dishes or internet banking done while she's sleeping, feed her again when she wakes up, go to pick up the middle child from nursery school, and return home.

At this point I generally try to get everything else done that I didn't get around to earlier, while my Grade A Nudnik harasses her sister. Today she bit her little sister for the third time in as many days and then tried to drag her baby across the living room with the scarf she had looped around her neck.

When my middle child isn't putting her baby sister in peril, baby sister is doing it quite nicely all by herself. If I turn my back on her for one second I find her climbing her big brother's 6 foot loft bed ladder, playing with the toilet water, or climbing on various pieces of furniture.

And as this circus act proceeds, I am treated to non-stop nonsensical chatter from big sister. My dearest, creative, smiling child keeps up a running commentary of every little thought that pops into her brain, relevant or not. Sometimes it's not even in a human language. But that doesn't stop her. Sometimes the logorrhea is sung, sometimes it is recited. It is always injected with questions to which my child expects a response. A noncommittal mmmm huh won't do, either. She wants confirmation that I am hanging on every word.

After four hours of this I would like to be hanged.

I may be fishing baby sister out of the toilet, or prying her off the top of the 6 foot ladder, but there she is, my little Katie Couric, following me around the house asking me, "What did you think of my song? Do you want me to teach it to you? Can I draw now? Will you get me crayons and 'flat' paper now?" and so on, ad infinitum, ad nausuem, until she finally falls asleep.

My day continues with supper, clean up, making lunches for the next day, and collapsing. How on Earth did I do all of this and hold down a full-time job before?!

* * *

My husband and I sat down for a heart-to-heart last week. The discussion ominously followed several hours of my husband reconciling bank accounts and paying bills, frowning and expressing the occasional "mmmmmm". These discussions are usually not pleasant, but I was in for a nice surprise.

"It just doesn't make sense, you going back to work. By the time you pay the babysitter and get transportation for the other two arranged, you won't be making enough to make it worthwhile."

Was I hearing this correctly? Was my sage and compassionate husband really telling me to call off the job hunt? Was he truly granting me the opportunity to be a full-time mom? Where was the catch?

On Day One of housewifery I cleaned, swept, mopped, baked fancy pinwheel cookies, and hummed my way around the house feeling strangely free! Suddenly, I could live in the moment. I didn't have to tear myself apart with feelings of inadequacy. I didn't have to spend time with my children feeling like I should be catching up on work, or spend time at work feeling like I was neglecting my children. I didn't have to live in dread of my children coming down with a cold, worrying about how I was going to explain to my boss or my students why I had to take time off again. I was a liberated woman, free to keep my house clean and our lives in order!

By day two I found the catch.

"Mommy? Are you listening to me? I'm hungry! I want to play house. Will you be 'the mommy' and I'll be 'the sister'? Can you read me a story? Read it again! Will you get me crayons? No! Not those! Isn't my song funny? Did you like it? Did you? Did you?!"