This past June, I quit my job to take over the onerous task of Stay At Home Mom (SAHM). Since then, the kids and I have been living the good life. We've spent our days at the playground, the beach, the pool, the zoo, the Arboretum, the library, and sometimes, just in our yard. It has been a wonderful summer, and I am so fortunate to have had the freedom to enjoy it.
Our summer of freedom, however, is coming to a close. Billy starts preschool this week and tonight was "Meet the Teacher" night at his school -- My first scheduled meeting since I quit my job. The idea of getting the kids to the daycare room at the Community Center and me to Billy's classroom by 6 pm seemed overwhelming right from the start. Little did I know what was in store for the evening.
On the way to the school, the train gates were stuck and I needed to take a detour. Not a big deal until the two cars in front of me collided. Luckily, we were not involved in the accident and continued on our way.
When we arrived at the Community Center, I checked the kids into the daycare room. Much to my kids' delight, there were Power Ranger toys. "This is going well," I thought to myself. I put Charlie in the Exersaucer (aka the "Circle of Neglect"), showed Billy where the bathroom was and made my way to the classroom.
About 15 minutes into the teacher's presentation, somewhere between "wash your kid's hands" and "don't let them bring toy guns to show and tell", the head of the daycare was standing at the door. "Uh oh" I thought. With three kids in the daycare room, there was a good chance she was there for me. Then she spoke the words no parent wants to hear: "Mrs. Sias, we need you." As I left the room, all I could think was "which one"?
While we walked back to the daycare room, the lady explained that Billy didn't quite make it to the bathroom in time. I was a bit surprised since he hasn't had an accident in a long time. When she showed me to the bathroom where Billy was waiting, the smell of poop filled the air. It was everywhere and I mean EVERYWHERE. The daycare lady said that she had found him in the corner with his underpants full. She shepherded him to the bathroom before she came for me. Apparently, my self-sufficient three year old took it from there and tried to clean himself up. Yikes.
I did what any good mom would do and took to the task of cleaning him (and the bathroom) up. I washed off his legs, his pants and his shoes. I also washed the floor, the sink and the toilet seat. What felt like an hour later (but probably was more like 10 minutes), I sent him back out into the daycare room with his pants still wet. Although the daycare lady was reluctant to let him stay with wet pants, she calmed a bit when I explained it was only water.
While I was cleaning Billy, I could hear Charlie wailing through the bathroom door. I generally tune crying out. Babies cry. No big deal. I returned back to the preschool room just in time to hear the end of the teacher's presentation (something about how each parent, I mean kid, is going to make a "family block" at home with pictures, wrapping paper and packing tape).
Within 15 minutes, I was back in the daycare room trying to wrangle my kids. Charlie was still crying, Billy was still wet. Thinking things could not get much worse, TJ started in on the action, throwing a tantrum because he didn't want to leave. During his meltdown, he somehow managed to break the strap right off my flip flops. It was at that moment I remembered, things can ALWAYS get worse.
With John's help, I managed to get the kids out of the daycare room. I also managed to hobble back to Billy's classroom with one shoe on and one shoe off to return a form I forgot to give Billy's teacher. We got the kids into the car and made our way home for bath time.
My hope is that we got all of our chaos out of the way tonight and have nothing but smooth sailing ahead. Somehow I doubt it. Either way, I wouldn't trade this life for the world, even if I am covered in poop and only have one shoe.
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