L.K. Madigan (lkmadigan) wrote,
L.K. Madigan
lkmadigan

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And then lemonade came gushing out the spigot of my nose

(A subject line that will mean nothing to you unless you've read cynthialord's recent post:
http://cynthialord.livejournal.com/215836.html)


Email: From me to my boss
Date: About a week ago
Subject line: Mental health day


The single parent gig is busting my a**.

Can I take a day off next week? Thursday would work best for me … Cole is in a play at school that day.


Email: From my boss to me
Date: About a week ago
Subject line: Re: Mental health day


Thursday is fine by me.

How much longer is DH in the Dalles?


Email: From me to my boss
Date: About a week ago
Subject line: Re: Mental health day


The company is saying through the end of October. (!!!)


Email: From my boss to me
Date: About a week ago
Subject line: Re: Mental health day


Ack! Why don’t you use that gift certificate I gave you and get a massage on your day off?


My day yesterday:

5:30 a.m. Wake up happy. Today is Mental Health and MASSAGE Day!

6:30 a.m. Wake up boy. Remind him today is the day of his play!

“Mom, will you come to my play?”
“Yes, honey, I told you I’d be there. In fact, I took the whole day off today!”



8:00 a.m. Help other moms assemble and deliver fruit baskets to teachers as part of Teacher Appreciation Week.

9:15 – 10:15 Enjoy three “fractured fairy tale” performances by adorable and brilliant children aged 5 – 8.

10:30 – 11:10 Scarf down a couple of oatmeal carmelitas and a glass of iced tea, so as not to be ravenous during MASSAGE. Check email and return two phone calls.

11:12 Gather purse, gift certificate, sunglasses and cell phone in preparation for leaving to get MASSAGE.

11:14 Phone rings. (Cue “Jaws” music shark attack scene, plus music from shower scene of “Psycho.”) It’s the school secretary. Cole’s “stomach hurts.”

11:15 Seriously consider saying, “Gah!! If he’s not barfing, I don’t want him. I’ve got a MASSAGE!!”

11:20 Sit in hallway with Cole, asking him if he really feels sick, or might just be hungry. Receive “100 per cent” assurance that his “stomach hurts.” Watch him walk to car, slightly stooped over, with hand on stomach, in preparation for career as actor.

11:25 Send him to bed.

11:30 Cancel MASSAGE, trembling over policy that “you will be charged for services cancelled less than 48 hours in advance.” Dissolve in relief over sympathetic mom receptionist. Re-schedule massage for a Saturday when DH can function as back-up to fake illness.

12 Noon “Mom, can I have some lunch?” Serve remarkably recovering child bland noodle-chicken broth soup, all the while knowing that at this moment, you would be lying facedown on massage table getting a MASSAGE if you had left the house five minutes earlier. And forgotten your cell phone.

12:15 Send child back to bed. Do laundry, do dishes, start boring paperwork project. Child is sitting at his desk, reading comic books and writing a story. Seethe.

1:45
“Mom, you know what? My stomach feels okay now! I think I can go back to school.”
“Nope. School is almost over.”
“Oh. Well, I could go to after-school care.” (He loves it there.)
“Nope. You went home sick. You can’t go back.”
Comically disappointed expression on child’s face. Or would be comical if not for complete f*#$-up of day.

2:00
“Cole, since you feel okay now, we’ve got some errands to run.”
Drive to drycleaner’s, and two garden centers. Stop for gas, nearly fainting at the cost.

4:00 Make scantily buttered toast for child when he says he’s hungry.

4:20 Pick up child’s friend, as pre-arranged.
“M, would you like a snack before the game?”
“Okay.”
Child perks up, until he realizes he’s not going to get a snack. “But I’m hungry!”
“You had three pieces of toast. You’re good.”

4:45 Drive boys to baseball game. Instruct child to sit on the bench and support teammates, but he’s not allowed to play, because he’s sick. Inform coach of situation, who helps by saying, “How you doing, Cole? I hear you don’t feel too good. Thanks for coming to watch. I was going to have you pitch today! Get better so you can play on Saturday.”

5:00 – 7:15 Hang out during typical loooooong game. Watch child toss water bottle up and down, cavort with teammates, hang off the chain link fence gazing at baseball game like a rueful inmate, and remind him repeatedly to sit down, because of his “stomach hurting.”

7:30 No snack after the game. Chicken soup. Then homework and bed.

8:30 Job of providing the dullest day in child's entire life comes to a close. I hope that he thinks twice before pulling a stunt like this again. Email and “Gilmore Girls.”

No jaunt to Trader Joe’s, no digging in the garden plot, and no writing.

No time alone.

This Mother’s Day, I think I will celebrate by leaving the house at 6 a.m. and returning at 6 p.m.

(Not really.)

But I will insist on 2 – 3 hours of “me-time.”

Happy Mother’s Day, LJ mom-friends.

Isn’t it an adventure?
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