The Places You'll Go

The thing about motherhood is that there is such an immediacy to it. The only thing that matters to your kids is the moment you are living in, so that is what most often takes priority. And the moment I'm living in feels like I've been here forever. At its most primal level, raising kids is about survival. This is why I can never decide whether I'm up or down - only the here and now matters, and it's all I can seem to remember most of the time. It doesn't matter that Jacob is the sweetest kid 95% of his life, when he's doing something I'd rather he not, all I can feel is rage because he's not listening. I've been yelling at him for three days straight, so to me it seems it's always been like this.

I get up this morning and we're both rested - we're gonna make it through the day! It takes the whole rest of the morning to leave the house because someone keeps telling me to "stop" and doesn't want to listen when I say "get ready!" I think only one of us is going to make it out of the house alive, and I'm really not sure who that will be. But then we're in the car, and I know that it is so packed full of stuff that there is no way I could have forgotten anything. I feel safe in the knowledge that we could end up anywhere on this day, and we would have enough stuff to survive a week away from home. Then Jacob freaks out in the grocery store because I won't get him a 'finkles donut' and I have to carry him out to the car still crying about it.

At Jacob's request I make a surprise visit to Daddy's work because I'm tired of saying no to him. I have mixed feelings about this stop. I think this could be the end of the errands that we aren't even halfway through, yet I'm glad I'm still a mindful enough parent to slow down and recognize what is important. I sit in Zach's office and check my e-mail again because I'm waiting to be cheered up. I sigh and Zach asks what's wrong. "I think I'm depressed again. All I want to do is just sit somewhere- to sit somewhere and stare at a wall." I feel like I've always been this sad, but it occurs to me that things were great just a few hours ago when Jacob curled against me and lured me out of sleep by his alternating caresses and full-bodied bugs.

We leave the college in a hurry after Jacob takes his half of the muffin and smooshes it all up in his hands and rubs it into the carpet. I was right about the errands; progress on that front halts, but we're heading home to let the dogs out because it's such a nice day and I'm sick of beating myself up for not getting Jacob out in the yard to play on these beautiful, snowless days (the lack of snow is something I have no mixed feelings about).This'll be good though, I can take the laptop out in the yard to write! Except I don't even have time to finish booting it up before Jacob breaks my one rule, "Don't go in the muddy half of the yard!" It's been back-filled with the dirt that was dug out to make room for the foundation, and we've had a series of insanely warm days, which creates the effect of quick-sand. Jacob is face-down in the mess, covered from head to toe on the front side with mud. He's wearing fresh-out-of-the-laundry clothes. I wait half an hour to bring him in to change him for the 7th time in two days (we've also been having a lot of peeing and spilling accidents).

A couple more errands later on with my mom brings the solace of adult conversation, but Jacob still won't stop his incessant chattering. He just won't stop. And he won't sleep either. All week it's been me and him, alone, all day. I need a break, but I still don't want to be away from him. I just want the noise to end.

Jacob finally falls asleep in the store, just about the time I figure I missed the call that brings a smile when I listen to the message. While it's nice to ride in peace, I feel as if this nap is being wasted because I could be at home getting so many things done. After I drop my mom off I decide I'm going to do something totally indulgent. I pull into the Starbucks parking lot and proceed to gather my limp child and only the most necessary items before going inside. As I'm finishing the pamphlet 'Connect over coffee' which tells me how to do the T-Mobile thing that will enable me to log onto the internet, Jacob wakes up. He's out of his stroller just like that and I'm packing up to head home. Then the unthinkable happens. So I proceed to the counter and ask for paper towels. The guy comes back with a couple. "Um...no, like for an 'accident'." I do what I can to stop the flow of urine and then usher Jacob to the bathroom. Back at the table I'm mopping up the rest of the mess and the absurdity of the situation doesn't even phase me. I'm beyond caring that we've reinforced the notion that some places just aren't for kids.