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Today was one of those days where you really need to watch your step around me. I am on edge, crawling out of my skin and ready to fight. The kids? They can do no right. The husband? Don't even try. The PTA? Can I be any more antagonistic towards "the way things are done?" Usually, these days come and the family (and most friends) learn to just stay out of the way. Why the angst? Partially because I have been working really hard the last few weeks and it is taking a toll. And, partially because I have been stewing over a situation that I need to just release. For me--a recovering addict-- you cannot stay in a bad place for very long and come out unscathed. I just wanted to be left alone. Visions of solitude danced in my head as the evening approached. The kids rejoiced that it was Cereal for Dinner Night. But all thoughts of solitude or self-absorption were immediately wiped away with that one thing that can pull any mother out of a funk.
That blood curdling scream of her child in pain.
My six-year-old daughter slammed her hand in a door. It took me less than a nano-second to go from "Leave me alone" to "Come to me" when I heard her cries. Any thoughts of fatigue or "me time" vanished. All desire to be left alone were replaced with that undeniable energy and desire to help my child in pain.
As we examined her finger to see if she fractured it, I knew that my heart was beating as fast as hers was only with a little extra pounding because I am the Mom and I need to make this better for her. Right. Now. There came an amazing adrenaline rush as I was able to speed through the task of getting the ice, the Advil and the favorite stuffed animal all while wiping away tears of pain. Her physical pain. My heart breaking for her. They were matched only by the undeniable bond and knowledge that came from knowing I was needed in that moment. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
After she had her finger put in a splint and the tears had dried, suddenly, it didn't seem so awful being needed tonight. We curled into one another and read book after book until she fell asleep. Though being needed by so many people so often can be draining, there are some of those moments where you would never dream of being anywhere else. No matter what.
Liz of Mom 101 gets it. She had glorious plans to spend the night away from the responsibility of motherhood and family. (Away on business, but still...alone.) Her mind raced with the possibilities that lie ahead of her as her plane touched down. Dinner out. An entire movie in her hotel room. A full night's sleep. (Ahhh, that blissful full night's sleep after so many nights without one.) And then she got the call so similar to my hearing the scream.
In the cab, I got the call.
"Sage isn't eating."
"What do you mean she's not eating?"
"She hasn't eaten since you left this morning."
I did the math in my head - 8 hours. 8 hours and the baby who nurses every two hours hadn't eaten anything. She hadn't slept either.
Worry sets in. Finally, an IM saying she is eating. Then, a bit later, the cry out again. She is not eating. So, Liz does what so many of us do when we hear that cry out from one of our babies (through her father in this case of course) who needs us.
And so back to the hotel I went, grabbed the yet unpacked suitcase off the yet unslept on bed, glanced at the unturned on television and the unplundered minibar and headed straight back to the airport. Feeling like the bad mother who left her baby who won't eat or sleep. Feeling like the bad employee who can't stay for dinner. Feeling generally...what's that expression? Oh yeah, like shit.
That's what happens.
She is right. Because that's what happens.
While Liz waits for the plane to take her back to her child that needs her to help take away her misery and I cuddle up next to my child
