The kids joined me at the gym on Wednesday for my staff meeting. We were late and I cursed under my breath at our broken van door, juggling a wheelchair, diaper bag, my purse, and a car seat (with Paisley in it) in bitterly cold weather. I returned to SkyKids (my gym’s child care center) after the meeting and was told that Finn had been ramming the gate to Paisley’s section of the nursery because he wanted to see her, as well as ramming a worker in the shins because he didn’t want to share. I was so embarrassed.
We navigated our way through various other toddler tantrums that afternoon. Paisley had a couple blow outs, and I lost the fight for vegetable consumption at dinnertime.
It felt like motherhood failure.
Finn cried the next morning as I dropped him off at school. I turned my back on his pouted lip and walked away, so as not to prolong the protest. It’s sometimes hard to be a working mom–hard to trust someone else to parent your children, especially when they’re “atypical.”
But as I approached his classroom for pick up at the end of the day, I saw this:
He was happily and imaginatively playing alone. I wish there had been other kids around him, but whatever. He saw me and beamed; asking, “You play cars with Finny, momma?” We sat together zooming wooden race cars and flying airplanes for about 10 minutes. He and his teacher told me about their day…he went to bowling class (and apparently would only use the green ball)
and he made shape tarts in cooking class. Such a cool place!
As I was putting him into his car seat, he asked for a hug and a kiss and said, “Momma, you’re sweet.”
Some days I win and some days I lose, but this game is the most important one I’ll ever play.