I was an excellent mother this morning. I promise. You wouldn’t know it right now, but it’s true. I spent all morning making treasure hunts and drawing puzzles for my kids. When we weren’t doing that we got out my special notecards and drew pictures to send to everyone in our acquaintance.
But things fall apart quickly at 4:30 pm. And now, I’m looking at this quarter of diced onion wondering why on God’s green Earth I had intended to make chicken tortilla soup for dinner. The kids hate chicken tortilla soup. I have eggs. The kids love eggs. They’re faster to make. They use fewer dishes. James probably won’t be home for dinner anyway. Just scramble the eggs, make some toast, and call it a day for all that is holy!!!
So, that’s what I did.
I had to send my five year-old to his bed before someone else accidentally got hurt. I had to send the three year-old to the couch who decided she didn’t need a nap today. I put the crawling baby in the jumpy seat because every single time I turn around he’s picking another tasty microscopic morsel out of this confounded shag. I had to do all this just so I could find the time to butter some toast.
And, of course, my husband came home in plenty of time for dinner. And, of course, when asked, none of the kids could remember any of the amazing activities we spent hours on this morning.
“Tell Daddy what we did today?”
“I dunno. We went to the post office.”
“What about this morning?”
“What about it?”
“You don’t remember what we did this morning? All morning long?”
“Nothing?! Not the treasure hunts? The puzzles?”
But sometimes that’s how it plays out. And sometimes bedtime is at 7:30. And sometimes a knight’s armor shines because he eats leftover Chinese with a smile on his face. And sometimes, yes, sometimes victory looks like half a pint of chocolate peanut-butter ice cream that you get to eat all by yourself.