When I picked up my kid at school, my fourth trip there of the day, he jumped for joy when he saw me and skipped across the playground to the child-fetching gate. His teacher came over and said, "Oh, Nathan is so glad you're here! He's been talking about his 2 night sleepover at Grandma and Pop's all day. And you, Mommy, getting 2 nights off with your husband. Have fun, Mommy!" She waved her hand at me and gave me playful smile. She has kids, too. She knows the deal.
I promptly shook my head no and gave the "cut" motion and she went white. Because like I said, she has kids and she knew if something went wrong, there was about to be disaster. We said our goodbyes, gathered our things and headed to the car. Nathan was skipping and jumping and finally he said, "So you packed all my things and we're going straight to Grandma and Pop's?"
"Uh, about that buddy..." I explained the power outage and how we wouldn't be going anytime soon. He was crushed. Devastated. It was as if I said he'd never go again, never mind just until the next morning at worst.
And then he turned on me, as any irrational pre-schooler would. He yelled it was all my fault. It was mean of me to not let him go. Why couldn't I just turn the power back on? I made the power go out. I never let him do anything fun. He ended his tirade with, "You just like to make your kid sad."
Yup, Kid, that's right. This was what I was hoping for.
And then I realized we forgot his lunchbox at school and I had to turn around and go back for a fifth time and retrieve it, lest it get stolen or misplaced or just simply fester with whatever fruit he didn't eat all weekend.
I explained that everyone was disappointed, but when the power came back on he could go, probably in the morning. He wanted me to wake him in the middle of the night if it came on then. I told him as soon as I knew it was on, he'd know. After the nonsense of the drive home and the continuing back-talk and and the last thread of patience I had inside of me completely wiped away, he finally calmed down and got distracted with a book. I set about the last few chores of the day when the message came in:
The power was back on. We could now have the 2 night sleepover after all.
And as much as it pained me to give the child what he wanted after all of the carrying on, I packed him up and dropped him off. There was a 2 hour stretch in there about dinner and dessert (which wasn't candy, also making me mean) and his shoes being uncomfortable and me not remembering a toy he wanted to bring. By the time I gave him that last hug and told him I loved him, I was so emotionally spent. I wanted to strangle him and squeeze him with love at the same time.
It wasn't his fault I had a bad day before I had to ruin his. I should have had more patience. I yelled and I felt horrible. That really sums up the week - I felt horrible about just about everything I did.
So my husband and I went to dinner. I fell off the diet wagon hard. I slept in this morning until 8:08, a full 2 1/2 hours after my wake up time with the boy the last 2 weeks. I watched Mad Men this morning with 2 cups of coffee.
I missed my boy terribly. But his grandparents brought him over so he could pick up some toys, including the one I forgot to pack him last night. I got to squeeze him super hard and I told him I loved him and I missed him so much last night. He said sweetly with a smile that melts my heart, "I love you and and missed you too, Mama."
I feel better. He's not mad or upset anymore. He missed me, too.
I gave him one more big squeeze and too many kisses. I held his beautiful cheeks in my hand, gave them a little pinch and said, "I look forward to missing you more tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, buddy!"
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