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I got an email from The Boy’s teacher:  “[The Boy] is not at school today.  I hope he is alright.”

As I frantically look for  the school calendar in the mess of my desk, I am wondering why she is emailing me on a teacher work day asking about my son being in school.  I keep the calendar posted on my office (cubicle) wall.  But, I just moved cubicles on Friday and I have not gotten it up yet.  Where the hell is that calendar?  I just placed it on my desk on Friday but I can’t find it now, in these few seconds of confusion.   

No school calendar.  My sleep-deprived, tired mind is trying to work this through.  Focus Kai.  Focus.  Breathe and focus.  I am staring at my rather large company calendar posted on my wall.  My eyes go over the whole thing trying to find my place…a place that would make this all make sense and before I land my eyes on October, which doesn’t happen since I have hung the calendar just convenient enough to have completely blocked out the entire month of October by my computer monitor, the facts flip through my thoughts.  

Going crazy, maybe?

What day is this?  What month is this?  My mind is trying desperately to make sense of this email.  The thoughts come a mile a minute.  Looking for an answer. 

October. 

This is October. 

Teacher workday is today. 

Monday. 

October 8, 2012.

Today is Monday.

The Boy’s birthday is tomorrow.

The Boy’s birthday is October 2. 

Today is October 1.  DAMN IT. 

Teacher workday is October 8.  DAMN IT. 

He is supposed to be at school today. 

DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!

Then, just like clockwork, I start to frantically try to figure out how to right this crazy.  If I leave work now, I can get home and get him to school before lunch.  But, he will have already missed half of the school day and I will end up missing half of my workday.  I resign to let it go knowing that letting it go isn’t really possible.

I am tired.  I am tired of this whole single parent thing.  I am tired of fighting with the I-think-I-am-grown Man, and the I-think-I-am-grown Girl-in-the-middle.  I am tired of the silent fight with The Boy’s father who hasn’t a clue how to effectively and cooperatively parent/communicate.  I am tired of sacrificing all things that are me in order to support the best interest of the children.  I am tired of being the only one really, truly focused on the best interest of the children despite that best interest not being my best interest.  I am tired of the older ones’ father not understanding that even though child support is not required due to their ages, his child (children) still need to be supported.

Let’s face it.  It is not in my best interest to continue to be open to someone who is not open to me.  I want to share the accomplishments and struggles and pains of The Boy with that other person who should be my partner in crime with regards to fighting through/helping The Boy navigate his world.  But, if I send an email and receive no response…nothing, then do I try again…send another email?  Include and include and include…reach out…reach out…reach out? 

I was going to say that I don’t have the strength to fight someone to work with me.  But, the reality is that I definitely have the strength but I am tired. And that exhaustion has me mixing up dates and not taking The Boy to school on a teacher workday that is not actually a teacher work day.

After I received the email from The Boy’s teacher, I went over to share my crazy with a coworker who was just sharing how exhausted she is and how it is just “really not a good day.”  I wanted to share my piss-poor parent moment with her to help brighten her day…give her some perspective.  When I got to her desk, another coworker asked, “how do you get your kids to eat vegetables.”  Well, my kids eat their vegetables with no issue and always have.  Maybe one doesn’t like cooked spinach and the other doesn’t want greens but, they all eat enough of a variety that it doesn’t concern me.  So, I say, “I tell them to eat it and they do.”  (It’s the truth)

As they go on about how one’s daughter will gag on vegetables and the other has a friend whose son won’t eat any, I say:  “So, you have to take a hard stance with them.  Tell her if she makes herself gag then she will have to eat her veggies and vomit.” (I’m laughing because it sounds so gross and although I would never make mine do that, it sure worked to tell them they would have to.) 

I’m just throwing things out now:

“Or, tell them they have to eat it or else they don’t get anything else to eat.” 

“Just beat them.”

“Have her pick vegetables that she will eat but, give her a number that she must pick.  Like, tell her she has to pick four different vegetables that she will eat and then just give her those.”

“Don’t worry about it.  He’s three.  He’ll get over it.”

“Just give her a plate full of carrots.”

Ultimately, because I still have not let it go, I add:

Don’t ask me.  I am the mom that forgot to take her child to school today.  What do I know?

 

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