Priorities...

I took a day off recently, got a sub for my teaching. Those of you that teach know what a project that is, getting ready for a sub. When you teach the class yourself it’s a ton of work, as you know, but at least you don’t have to write out every little detail. After all, you know what you’re thinking. An outline will suffice.

 Your sub, however qualified he or she may be, needs details. Lots of them. A lesson plan triples in prep time when someone else teaches your class for you. This is precisely why so many teachers go to work sick. It’s easier than staying home unless you are truly on death’s door.  

 This day, however, was a special occasion. My kids go to a Jewish preschool and it was Purim. A Jewish holiday. For those of you not well informed on Jewish holidays, it’s the Halloween of Jewish religion. It’s a carnival. Even the service in the synagogue has noise makers in it, no joke. I think it was the only one that didn’t put me to sleep all year when I was a kid.

 The preschool teacher did a fabulous job teaching the kids about the holiday. Enough detail to cover the basic story. Not so much detail to confuse spongy little 3 year old minds.  The language used by the teacher was hilarious. She reminded me of a great kids’ movie. The kids thought they got all the jokes but the adults heard every adult joke they missed. Everyone was paying attention.

 At first I wasn’t planning to go. But then I saw the signup sheet on the wall and I counted the names. Oh crap! My kids were going to be the only ones without a parent there. Talk about motherly guilt. It took about 3 seconds to write my name on the signup sheet. My kids were not going to be the only ones with parent involvement. No chance in hell.

 That was when it ceased to be a difficult choice. I found the sub. I wrote the sub plan. I even raced around to get the copies made and drop it off in time for the class. And I didn’t resent one second of the chaos.  My kids will never have to know how close they got to being disappointed.

As a mom of young kids, many of my friends are in the same boat. It’s no coincidence. After all, we hang out with those that understand our daily lives.

A friend of mine called me the other day, upset.  Basically, she felt like a terrible mom. She’s not a terrible mom, for the record. She’s an awesome mom. Her kids are proof of that. They are adorable. Sweet.  Funny. They love to play and laugh. They behave well for mostly everyone but her. You know, typical great kids. 

But she doesn’t see it that way. She doesn’t see the glimmer of curiosity in her kids’ eyes. A curiosity that she is fostering beautifully, by the way. She sees the tantrums and whining. And of course she does. She’s the one who manages these unfortunate (although age appropriate) behaviors and it overwhelms her perspective. Especially since she spends all day every day with them and getting in the car to go out is an event that requires multiple strategic steps. 

 I face the exact same predicament. After all, my kids are 3. So very 3.

But this pinpoints the essence of what it means to be a mom. Priorities and perspectives. What we see doesn’t always line up with others see. And we don’t always make the decisions that we wanted to make.

But sometimes we do.

Last week, my daughter threw the monster of all tantrums. Really. It was diaper and pajama time and she threw herself on the ground instead. She was pretty mad, to put it mildly. 10 minutes later, she was naked and still totally unwilling to get dressed. 5 minutes after that she was daddy’s job. Mommy’s restraint was gone and the temper I had lost up until that moment was going to look tiny when I really exploded. I walked away, tucked my son in instead.

But as I left his room, I walked back to hers. Daddy was about to sing her a song. She was content. Then she saw me. The lip pouted out and she got mad all over again. I leaned over her and kissed. I stroked her face. I told her that she was my beautiful girl and that I loved her. I told her I was sorry and that I knew she was sorry too. I told her that we would both be nicer tomorrow.

She let me sing her to sleep instead of daddy and she smiled at me when I kissed her goodnight.

I guess, in the end, I did the right thing. Sigh. Priorities…