All Apologies

With credit due given to the remaining members of Nirvana, I really feel like this is the big song on today's soundtrack. It was a tense day here in the household, to say the least. Andrew woke up crabby and literally sobbing hysterically that he didn't want to go to the sitter's. Now, mind you, it's nothing to do with the sitter's that makes him not want to go---rather, he should be screaming, "I just want to stay home," because that's the real thorn in his side. Ditto, sweetie---I'd much rather be staying home today, but I'M SORRY, it's 7:30, and I HAVE to GO. So it's fortunate that I don't have far to drive, because I cried all the way---there's nothing much worse than sending a sobbing, tear-soaked child off to fend for himself when all you want to do is hold him and comfort him, even though you know in your brain that nothing's really wrong other than getting up on the wrong side of the bed and maybe a little manipulation and yanking on Mom's sympathies. I think we were all out of sorts for the rest of the day, and I was worried enough about him that I made James call to check on him and email me the details and STILL sent the babysitter a text message during planning period to see how Andrew was.

So Andrew's tired; we all are from this first week of school and trying to get back on schedule. I don't like it. I should, by all rights, be in bed right now---but I feel like I should be up. It doesn't help that I really fell asleep while waiting for Andrew to doze off, and slept for three hours on his bed, waking up with numb feet because the window air conditioner was blowing right on them and I had failed to cover up with anything, because I wasn't staying. I try not to give in to the, "I just want you to slip on my bed with me for a second," because he NEEDS to be able to go to sleep without someone there, and it's a slippery slope to be standing on. But after the day we all had, I just couldn't say no, so here I am...well-rested after three hours, wide-awake, and certain to be on a path of destruction for Thursday that no amount of coffee in the classroom will avoid.

Andrew and I had a mature conversation about the day's setbacks this evening--twice, actually, and he assured me that he will not be repeating today's Academy Award-winning a.m. performance. Maybe I shouldn't lay this on the shoulders of a three year-old, but I simply told him that he made me sad this morning when he threw his fit. He agreed that he doesn't want me to be sad, so he'll be cooperative in the morning. Will he remember? I'll remind him in the morning---although I'll be the one dragging this time, I'm sure.

So, Andrew---I'm sorry we're not independently wealthy and I have to go to school to keep a roof over your head and a steady supply of fruit snacks and Lightning McQueen underwear in the house. I'm sorry you don't like to pee in Beth's potty and had to wear someone else's shorts because you peed in both pairs of yours. I'm sorry I had to make you choose between watching The Upside Down Show and reading books after your bath. I'm sorry I had to pry you off my tear-stained shoulder this morning and see you on your way. I'm sorry I lost my temper and yelled at you at the dinner table when you wouldn't stop playing. I'm sorry that summer's over and it gets dark earlier, and that we forgot to sort and wrap the money from your Pooh bank tonight. I'm sorry that I'm a monster for making you eat carrots and potatoes when all you really wanted was cheese puffs and applesauce. I'm sorry that your daddy and I were at each other's throats tonight, enough that he left me sleeping in your room for three hours without seeing if I was coming to bed. I'm sorry it was a bad day. I'm sorry.

And James---I'm sorry too, for losing my cool and flipping you off behind Andrew's back. I'm sorry that Andrew's a momma's boy and wants to hug me first. I'm sorry that dinner was tense. I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to kiss you goodnight tonight. I'm sorry I'm not June Cleaver...hell, I'm even sorry I'm not Marge Simpson. I'm sorry we haven't been able to go to the Outer Banks. I'm sorry that we're broke and it's causing you stress. I'm sorry there are three loads of clean clothes in the bedroom that haven't been put away. I'm sorry I was sleeping instead of packing your lunch. I'm sorry about the wrinkles in your khakis because I forgot to fold that load until it was too late. I'm sorry for all of the dumb shit I do in my attempt to muddle my way through.

So, tomorrow's---or rather, today's a new day, and we'll all wake up like Snow-fricking-White with little cartoon blue birds chirping around our heads and weaving shiny ribbons through the trees in the yard as we go on our way. Or we'll have a repeat of today's nightmare. I'd be happy with something in the middle---something less than perfection but less traumatic than watching reenactments of my first pet dying. ---T