This is me (in my head) at 12:50 p.m. on a typical school day, after a refreshing morning of writing/ solo-housekeeping/ errand-running/ getting distracted by the internet, on my way to pick up the kids from part-time preschool:
I am ON IT. House: (semi-)clean, milk and bread: bought, plants: watered, blog: updated. Hell, I may have even showered.
I miss my kids SO MUCH, and I know! I know they’re going to be tired and maybe a little cranky, too, so I packed me some extra patience. I am sweet, but I am firm. Porque soy MAMÁ. (And I also packed Skittles just in case.)
I’ve got this.
Plus, I just listened to my new favorite pump-up song by Rich White Ladies, so the whole way to school, my inner-voice is all:
“I believe I am fly. I believe I am flyy.
I believe I’m fly. I believe I am FLY.
I beliEVE I’m fly. I believe I am flyy.
I believe I’m flyy. I beliEVE I am…”
And I do. I BELIEVE it. And the more I believe it, the more likely I am to be reduced to something rather less attractive than this, about 9 minutes after picking up my two small children:
So. How did we get here so fast!?
Well, come along! It’s not quite the same without hearing the noises displeased children are capable of making. But I’ll walk you through my part:
UP you go! I missed you guys!
How was schooo–OH, sweetie! Come back! Nope. Can’t let you walk while your sister’s on the bike seat. Why? Well: if I have to chase you, I might drop the bike, and she’ll fall down: BOOM! So, UP you go! Heeeeyyy… PLEASE stop kicking Momma. We don’t kick. NO. No-no-no– OK! Just…
OK. Look, honey? I’m sorry. Would you please walk with your brother this time? I know you want to ride on the bike seat. I know you do! And I said you could. But I just can’t trust him to be safe walking, and I don’t want you to fall. And I also don’t want him screaming and trying to wiggle out of the bike straps the whole way to the park. Thaaaank you, sweet one. I see you cooperating, and I appreci–NOOOO! WAIT! WAIT FOR MOMMA! THAT IS THE STREET!
Ok, goooooooood, that’s right! That’s gooood stopping. Thank you for waiting, son. You are getting so BIG! Let me just unlock the bike here. Aaand off to the park! Hoora–
You …don’t… want to go to the park???
WAIT SWEETIE! We can’t cross the street yet, because your brother wants to go… home. No, I know I said we’d go to the park. And I know you want to go. I know you do! And I said we would! I hear you. But we can’t go unless everyone wants to go. That’s always the rule, remember? So, home we go! Let’s go build a fort, guys. And! Waaatch…. Henry Hugglemonster! We can go out later, and–
BOTH OF YOU STOP WALKING AWAY IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS!!
OK. Sorry I shouted, but there are cars passing right THERE, and I have this bike to walk, and I really need you to agree on what to do right NOW, or else I have to strap you both onto the bike seats and we go home. That is the rule. And If you do not BOTH come back here RIGHT now, you will also get NO VIDEO* this afternoon!
GAAARRRGHH! Get. Over. Here. NOOOOOWWW! ow-ow-ow. We do NOT HITTT!!! We do not–
I said STOP! That is the STREET! Oh, c’mon. Don’t. Please get off the ground.
Right. Now I will count to 3. Ooooonnnee… Twoooooooooo…
KIIIDS!!! *scary momma grizzly roar that devolves into muffled sobs*
…please, please, pleease just both of you get up and come here… PLEASE? …I have… Skittles.. I…
Confidence is not my mommy friend. Not when it comes to my parenting. Because she lies to me. Oh, I’ve got this, have I? Yeah. Yeah, maybe I have. Maybe I have, and maybe I’m 9 minutes away from screaming, sobbing pandemonium in front of passing strangers right outside of my kids’ preschool. I can hope for the best, but I must always expect the worst. ALWAYS.
And I’m not just talking about packing Skittles.
I mean, sure, I’ve probably got this. Probably! It’s just picking up the kids, for crying out loud! I do this almost every day. No sweat (mostly)! But I also have to be prepared for when I just ain’t got this. Because this might be one of those times when I just, unexpectedly, even spectacularly, ain’t. And when that happens, I don’t want to fall down from “way up here where the eagles breed.”
For now, I’ll leave that perch (and sexy bikinis) to these two:
*Why? Why would I say that? That threat is always BS and we all know it.