Marigolds and Motherhood May 9, 2008

Today, I attended a “mother’s day with muffins” celebration at preschool. I attended The Boy’s party at 8:45. I arrived at 8:55. I guess my watch was off. I’m still getting used to the automatic watch Husband gave me for my birthday. If you don’t wear it for a couple days, it loses time and/or stops ticking altogether and you have to shake it up to get it going again. Anyway, we arrived at preschool, and I enjoyed a deliciously high calorie muffin that has ruined my SparkPeople calorie intake for the day. The Boy presented me with my mother’s day gift, a potted marigold. That was about it. Last year, the kids serenaded us, but this year there was no song—which is just as well, since The Boy spent last year’s portion of song time scratching himself while I whispered “don’t do that!”

I like this marigold more than last year’s gift, which was a hand-painted wooden picture frame a la the wood crafts aisle at Michael’s. It contained a picture of The Boy, with a toy riding horse in the background (the old-school kind that’s connected to a metal bottom frame with springs). I thought the background décor odd until I saw the other moms’ picture frames: their children were on the horse and smiling at the camera. In The Boy’s photo, he is sitting on the ground, scratching himself, and frowning. They said it was the best shot they could get because “he was really itchy that day.” I kept the picture in the frame, maybe as a reminder that eczema sucks. It was nice to look at it today and think, well, at least he would get on the horse this time around. Although, to be honest, after almost a year of no gluten and such, I had expected his skin to look better than it does. But that’s a whole other post.

I left the mother’s day party and returned an hour and a half later for the second “mother’s day with muffins” party in Little No Limit’s class. At least I was on time for this one (I set my watch). Same exact party, whole new cast of moms. The teachers all joked about how I do double duty on the party days since I have children in each of the pre-K classes. Little No Limit was exceptionally proud to present me with my marigold. This is her first mother’s day present for me. She drew a card that said “I Love My Mom because she bakes cupcakes.” Her drawing of me looked a bit like a submarine, and between that and the cupcakes remarks, I’m concerned she may be trying to tell me something.

I left that party at the same time as one of the other mothers and we discussed our upcoming IEPs and how our children are faring in the program and the many hoops we have to jump through for different services. We talked about the questionnaires, the interviews, the casualty with which the school refers to how they perceive our children. At one point in the conversation, I said “The only thing I know is that I don’t know.” I thought about the remark on the ride home, and truthfully, I don’t even remember what question of hers provoked that response. There were so many things we talked about that that could have been the answer to, and they all began with but how do they know… and how do they differentiate that from… So many concerns tossed between us like we were wanting to hear the other say, yeah, me too but at the same time, hear something of comfort like, yeah, me too, but I still think it will all work out.

The kids are now home from school. My morning conversation is falling into the blurry past as I help with bubble blowing and coloring, and protect the dogs from “playtime.” Later, we might take the bikes to the beach.

All in all, a typical day.

I came across Write From Karen, who asks the question, What does it mean to be a mom? Well, since I stay at home, I considered what I do on a typical day:

I bring the kids to school.

I eat a muffin.

I serve myself up a heaping dollop of self-doubt.

I spend time with the kids.

And I get over it.

Tomorrow, I’ll do it all again. Except for the muffin.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a couple marigolds to plant.