Every day cannot be Disney World joy. Some days there is nothing but the grace of God that gets you through. And I am so, so, so thankful for that Grace. Because some days are nothing short of ugly.
For instance, having my kindergartener throw a massive tantrum in my drive way. And that kindergartener refusing to get into my neighbor's car, as her sisters pull on her arms. After about 5 minutes I see that they haven't left the driveway (in our latest snow storm), and also realize that I'm in, well lets just say that it was the one night I didn't go to bed in my very modest flannel pajamas..... So I run to the back door to find the biggest coat that will cover my scantily clad self, and some snow boots to go out and retrieve my daughter (in front of my friend's husband), who has plum lost her freaking mind. So I get her inside and have one of those moments where you would never ever ever ever ever in a zillion years want a hidden camera to see. Complete mom failure. So I do what any mom would do. I call her father. Because Mommy and Daddy turn into "Your Mother" and "Your Father" when a kid has been possessed. I called him approximately 12 times until he picked up. He probably thought we were being robbed with as many times as I called. He talks her down, but doesn't convince her to stop crying, mind you. I point my arm to the door and the van without a word. As she walks at a snail's pace I realize that I am still in my coat, boots and not much else... so I wisely decide to take a moment and pull on some jeans. Cuz I'm not going to be the crazy mother with the screaming daughter who shows up in her night gown. I have a little self respect. I'll be the crazy mother with the screaming daughter in jeans, thank you very much.
I pulled into the drop off for the school and see that there is no one left going in, but the door is still open, so I make her take her little self in, by herself. Because I am that hopping mad. I see our Police Sargeant (who watches out for the school in the mornings), and he sees me. Then he sees my little tasmanian. She refuses to get out of the van, and so I go up past the boiling point into a hard boil. Thankful I put jeans on, I get out, open her door and pull her out and shoo her toward the school. Addison takes about 10 steps, and lets not forget that she is still sobbing, but now screaming on a loop, as if she's on fire, "I DON'T WANT TO GO, I WANT MY MOMMY!" Which at this point I'm not quite sure why she wants me, because of the aforementioned loss of temper.
She gets about half way to the door, and I really feel that I can't emphasize enough, that She. Is. Still. Screaming. And Sobbing. I was a little concerned her tears were going to freeze on her face.
So, that is where the police step in. I seem him analyzing the situation, and looking me over. Our friendly Police Sargeant comes over, says hello, takes her by the hand and walks her into school as she continues to cry. Where was I when this was going down? Standing by my van, panicked that he was going to come back out and arrest me for breaking my child's heart. So I overcompensated with a lot of "Mommy loves you so much, but its time for school." "By sweetie, love you, have a great day!" and "Please stop maniacally screaming, because Mommy doesn't want a visit from the police and a social worker today, there's too many bras hanging to dry on the dining room chairs!" Ok, the last one I said to myself, but I sure enough said it in a very loud, firm voice in my head. And I meant business. And then I got myself out of there before he came back out to question me. Which, looking back on it is pretty ridiculous. Oh yeah, I totally out manuevered the police. He'll never find me.... at my house down the street.... or think to ask the school or my child where I live..... But I made sure to park in the garage with the door closed..... with some very conspicuous tire tracks.......I was just not up for an inquiry from the police that morning.
Dear Addison, I am going to read this back to you some day when you have a child that refuses to go to school and you want to rip your hair from your head. Love, Mommy.