There are days when I think this whole mommy thing is for the birds. Today is one of them.
I have told you all that I question my decisions every day. I struggle with guilt. Am I doing this right? Am I making the right decision? Am I too hard on them? Not hard enough? Am I permanently screwing them up because I work? Because I don't force feed them vegetables? Because I allow them to watch Sponge Bob and play video games?
Mornings are crazy around here. I have to get myself ready, get them ready, get them out the door, drop them off at two different places and then get to work. All on time. And I know I am preaching to the choir. Many of you do this every day as well with less support than I have. So humor me in my misery for a minute. Because right now it's all about me. Mmmkay?
So this morning I am barking orders, Get your shoes on! Get in here so I can comb your hair! Get your backpacks together! Where are my keys???
Half way to school Mac realized he forgot his lunch, left it sitting on the counter.
"That's okay, just buy something at school," I told him.
"It's Mac & Cheese," he complained.
"I hate the school mac & cheese. It's disgusting and makes everyone barf."
"Who barfed?" I asked.
"Lots of kids," he replied.
"Whatever," I say waving my hand at him.
"It's true mom," Junior said. "The nurse's office is packed on mac & cheese day."
I looked at Mac in my rear view mirror. His big pouty brown eyes. His sad little face.
"Mac. I don't have time to go back home and get you your lunch. You're going to be late."
"Can't you drop us off and go back?" he pleaded.
"No. I need to get Boo to school, too. I am sorry, you shouldn't have left it on the counter."
I gripped the steering wheel the rest of the way to school, grinding my teeth. Feeling guilty about this poor kid eating vomit inducing mac & cheese. I dropped them off and watched him walk toward his class, his shoulders slumped forward, his head down in defeat.
He was killing me.
Of course I drove back home. Of course I took his lunch into the front office and begged the receptionist to run it to the class because I didn't have time. Of course I drove through town at illegal speeds to get my daughter to school on time. And of course I was 10 minutes late to work as a result of making sure my kid had a lunch he would enjoy. And of course I didn't care. I was happy my son would be happy.
Which brings us to dinner. I made chicken in the crockpot, shredded it up and added some barbecue sauce, put it on an onion roll - boom! Dinner.
Mac refused to eat it. I made him taste the chicken. There was some face making. Some coughing. A little gagging. And I said enough is enough. I refused to make him something else. I am tired of being a short order cook. I am tired. I have stuff to do. I can't be spending my evening cooking 5 different things for 5 different people. No way. I am done.
The kid made himself a sandwich.
And yet.... I still feel guilty. Even though I know I did the right thing.
And it pisses me off. It pisses me off that this kid will remember I refused to make him something else for dinner, but will totally forget I went out of my way to make sure he got his lunch.
In my next life, no kids. Not even a pet. Or a plant. Little brat.