So I just endured one of the worst 20 minutes of my parenting life. You know that damn saying, "If it can happen, it will...."? Well, it did.
The sweet Valentine's Day holiday is upon us, and since I am basically the slacker parent we all know and love, I began working on a treat to bring to my daughter's class that would dazzle in the eyes of the kids. However, when my daughter told me last night that she was starting to not feel very well, I told her, "No. You're fine. You're going to preschool tomorrow." I was in denial that my hard work might not be recognized by the 5 and under set.....and, who am I kidding, their parents as well.
So I shouldn't have been surprised when she awoke in the middle of the night to grab my husband and tell him that she didn't feel well. She ended up getting sick, etc. and ultimately stayed at home from preschool. However, in my selfish desire to have the cupcake treats I made with the My Little Cupcake cute-as-a-button cupcake creator pounced upon, I kept telling her, "Oh, if you're feeling better, which I'm sure you will be, we'll still go to the party." (Translation: You're going to the party, no matter what, and you'll wear that darling white dress with hearts all over it, as well as the matching tights, so everyone can marvel at the glorious creations I slaved over.)
Let me try to Reader's Digest this part of the story. L wakes up at 2:40 and is dressed immediately. Q is awakened at 2:43 and is dressed immediately. H is already dressed, and is awakened and placed in car seat at 2:46. The three children are placed in the car at precisely 2:49. Cupcake pops loaded at 2:51. Arrive at preschool to unload three children and cupcake treats balancing precariously in cardboard box at 2:53. Enter class, children (and parents) oooh and aaaah over cupcake treats. I beam. I thank My Little Cupcake for creating such an adorable treat maker. L makes craft. Q plays with dinos. H wets through her diaper. Change diaper. Get snacks for L. L eats carrot. L throws up carrot. I pack up H, Q, and L, and carry remaining cupcake treats out of preschool, lug children and snacks back to car, and arrive back at home at 3:18. All of these tasks are completed while maintaining complete composure, class, and tact.
Enter home: throw down box, plunk down car seat, yell at children to put away shoes, get Q in seat to eat treat. Q potties in his pants and in his booster seat in kitchen, and I try not to scream, stomp, and pout in my utter frustration at what has occurred in the past 25 minutes. H decides the only thing that will calm her is a bottle. Yet, I am dealing with pukey L, potty Q, and pouty me.
Where is that composure that is ever-present in public? How can I keep it together when I know others can see me? How in the world have I ever received compliments from strangers on my ability to diffuse children's temper tantrums when I go all "Mel Gibson" when I get at home? I have no idea. This one is a stumper that will last until the end of time, but I guess I'm just glad that I can keep up a false front while under scrutiny in public. And hopefully, just hopefully, my children will forgive me some day.....