A Day Of Triple Sighs

Yesterday was the first time in 18 years of Motherhood that I had all of my children in school all day at once! I’d been anticipating this day for months, dare I say years?? What would I do with all this free time? Seven whole hours to share with just Me By Myself! The pages of the day were beautifully blank, and just waiting for me to fill with bounty! What amazing things I could accomplish!

I thought, perhaps, I could clean and reorganize my entire house. Then I’d invite Martha Stewart over to gawk and envy, and perhaps take notes and pictures. Or maybe, without any Kid Interruptions, I could write half that book I'd been imagining for years. I’d madly type on my laptop as quickly as ideas flowed through my brain. With seven whole hours of straight writing, I could finish the novel by Tuesday, and would be well on my way to finding a publisher by Wednesday. Or possibly I’d get a head-start on my cooking; freezing meals for an entire month. Or I’d do all my Christmas shopping in one stop, long before the holiday rush. Who knew?? An entire day loomed before me, and I did not think my goals too lofty. But, frustratingly, all did not go as I’d hoped.

By 9am a school nurse called to tell me that my teenage son was feeling poorly with an upset stomach. So I picked him up and settled him into bed. He napped for one hour, felt better, and then proceeded to follow me around the house for the rest of the day, asking what he could eat. (First big sigh.)

Then my eldest child called from her out-of-state college to announce that she was about to “declare her major” to the Administration. And I took issues with her particular major choice, finding it (for lack of a better word) ludicrious. So I begged her, deplored her to wait and just take her time to consider all possibilities. Then she got angry and reminded me that it was her life and her dream and her future. And I agreed with all that, but reminded her of the issue of practicality. It is wise to consider the job market, and I learned this the hard way. When I was her age, my dream was to become a Princess, and I really wanted to major in Princess-ology in college. But although it was the prosperous Eighties, there were few job openings in the area of Royalty, oddly enough. So I wisely switched my major to nursing, and, by graduation, had landed an excellent job at a prestigious hospital. So I told this all to my daughter, and she promptly hung up the phone on me. (Second big sigh.)

And then my youngest came home from school copping an attitude. He, King of the Firsrt Grade Lunch Table, with his school choices of mini-corn dogs or chicken wrap, turned up his nose at the snack options I offered him. Then he was too cool to tell me all about his day. Or snuggle on my lap. Or listen to me read “Ginger Pye.” (Third big sigh.)

So, later that evening, when I got a text from some friends inviting me to join them for dinner at Portillos, I heard the Siren Calls of the Italian beef and cheese fries. I left Super Hubs with a pot of sloppy joes, and headed out for some Shameless Emotional Gorge-Festing over Girl Talk. It was critical.