A Mishap

Today we had a rough afternoon. The kids had no school today so everyone was home and in each other's hair all day. Jackson woke up way too early this morning, so by about 4 p.m. every single thing that happened to him was a tragedy of inestimable proportions. Jared seemed to take particular delight in finding "innocent" ways to set him off. After many vain attempts to distract Jackson, get milk down him or otherwise limit the screaming, I pulled out the big guns: we made cookies. In almost no time Jackson was happily eating Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate-Chip Cookie dough while Jared scooped cookies onto the baking sheet.

By 5:35 p.m. peace was finally restored in our house and we had put the first tray of cookies in the oven. We we were waiting for it to bake when the phone rang. It was the mother of Jared's friend on his basketball team, the one that I pick up for practice which-- oh crap! There is practice today and it started at 5:30 and I completely spaced it. I yelled at the child who picked up the phone to tell her that we are on our way and started frantically herding children into the car. I drove as fast as I could to his house, internally kicking myself. So far I had been really reliable in our carpool. I take the boys to practice and they bring them home but I- who frequently struggle with being late-- have made a point to always pick up early and get the boys to practice on time. How could I be so stupid and blow it today?

When I reached Jared's teammate's house, he was waiting out front with his mother. She said, "Can we switch who drops off and who picks up? The boys are supposed to be to practice ten minutes early and you never get them there 10 minutes early." I was stunned. I knew they were supposed to be there 10 minutes early for the first practice of the season, but I assumed for the rest of the practices that there were just supposed to be there at the appointed time. Was the building even open earlier than the time practice started? On one of the days it definitely wasn't and often I usually wait in the parking lot until the person who has the key to the building arrives. I started to reply something about how picking the boys up wouldn't work very well for me and she interrupted and said, "You know what, I'm just going to take him myself. This carpool isn't really working out and I need to make sure he gets there on time," and then she got in her car.

Maybe it was just a bad day for me already, but I drove Jared to practice almost in tears. I felt completely humiliated. If she was so upset about them not arriving ten minutes early to practice each time then why had she not called me and told me as much? It's not like I couldn't have left earlier if I had known that was important to her. I guess I just foolishly assumed that getting them to practice on time was "on time." I recognize that she had every right to be angry with me for forgetting about practice today but the fact that she had actually been upset with me all along for not getting the boys to practice ten minutes early just threw me for a loop.

I think part of why it upset me so much is that I frequently fall into deriving my self-esteem from being "competent and capable." So the thought that some person out there would think that I am anything less than competent and capable is humiliating to me. But even more, I have this picture in my head that people who aren't familiar with Mormon mommy-hood must look at me like I'm a crazy woman from a different planet. I picture them looking at me and thinking, "What is her problem? She is, like, 31 and has four kids. Doesn't she know about birth control? She drives a dumpy car filled with children dressed however they chose to dress themselves with their hair still sticking in multiple directions from when they woke up this morning. She is always late, her house is a mess and her life is complete chaos. If you can't do simple, adult things-- like, say, picking someone up and arriving on time where you need to be-- then maybe you shouldn't have had so many kids in the first place. Maybe then your life would be a little more manageable." (I have a really bad habit of inserting hypothetical words into people's mouths and hypothetical thoughts into their heads.)

I guess I still struggle with feeling like I have to justify myself somehow. Like I need to jump up and wave my hands and say, "Wait a minute!! Actually, I'm not a total incompetent. I have a Master's degree and once had a lucrative job in technical writing and business process analysis (back in what seems like a former life). I have the life I do because I love and value family and I chose this-- not because I accidentally got pregnant and kept repeating the accident. I know I look like a nothing, but there's a lot of brain and talent and a person worth knowing hiding behind these 'mom jeans' and vomit-stained shirt."

So what is it about our culture that makes mommy-hood feel like being a nothing? What is it that makes me feel like being a stay-at-home mom is something that I need to apologize for? Or that the only way I can justify being a stay-at-home mom is if I am a perfect, always prompt, perfectly groomed, tidy-house mom? I know this is my own issue and I just need to come to terms with it myself. I need to be able to say, "I know that I am a person that is worth knowing, even if I'm late sometimes or forget things or have baby boogers on my shirt sleeve. My job is a tough job and deserves respect."

So, yes, this is about me and not about the carpool. I'm doing my best. God knows that and hopefully that's enough.