A Nap-Free Meltdown

I work full time. It’s a necessity based on our lifestyle, so it is a financial choice, yet I’m convinced I’m also meant to work. My kids really do not know any differently. My 34 month old (am I still allowed to use months?) accepts it as part of her every day life, and my 8 month old is none the wiser. So it is with every morning that I cart them off to daycare and give kisses and wave goodbye as I call, “I’ll see you tonight!” I then go about my day in Corporate America, where for the next 8 or so hours I am not Mommy. I must confess it is a reprieve I do welcome. I love my children dearly…but I like my Mommy Breaks. By the end of said 8 or so hours, I am ready to dive right back in to motherhood after the typical harried morning getting everyone out the door.

On such an occasion today, I arrived at my mother in law Ellie’s house after my post work Weight Watchers meeting to find Sofia (the toddler) looking out the bay window in shear glee that Mommy has arrived. I feel a rush of excitement at seeing my little ones and wave enthusiastically to my daughter, who races from the window to great me at the top of the stairs with a great hug and an exclamation of her Potty Pride (a story that can wait). I walk in to find my angel Dominic asleep on the floor propped up by a boppy. Ellie, sitting on the couch, looks just a bit ragged.

“No nap”, she blurts out as ungentle as she can break such news to me. I look at my daughter…hair amok, shirt covered in gosh knows what, hands sticky, glasses askew, and sporting that coy look on her face that I have come to know just a little too well. She’s had quite a day, full of lots of wonderful moments at play. But she can only go so long without sleep, and she knows it. As Ellie proceeds to give me the report card for the day I see my upcoming situation becoming more and more desperate. Ellie endured several hours that included screaming for a half hour straight, refusal to sleep, refusal to eat her dinner, and “NO!” being the word of choice for much of the afternoon, were just a few examples of what my innocent and perfect little child put the poor woman through. As I attempt to gather up the baby without waking him, I ask my daughter to gather her things she brought with her today….Bear, Zebra, and her Cell Phone (fake).

I swear, I heard the missile rushing through the air before the actual explosion. “NO!!! I DON’T WANT TO GO TO MY HOUSE!!! NOOOOO!!!!” Dominic wakes and cries in protest at having to put up with the screaming girl again. I fasten him in his seat and pick up Sofia and plop her into the booster seat. She screams, flails, kicks, cries, protests all, as I attempt to fasten her belt. Ellie gives a quick wave good-bye and goes inside for a drink (thank goodness for her she only does this 2 days a week). Lucky for me I only live 5 minutes away. I drive through the neighborhoods with the windows open (trying to save on gas) and smile sarcastically at neighbors who turn to see who on earth could be screaming so loudly. I offer every distraction I can muster while also trying to appear as though I am not rewarding this melt down. I think about how excited I was to see my children before I pulled up to the house, and laugh at the thought that perhaps I should have stayed at WW just a little bit longer…heck there was another meeting that followed right after mine.

We pull into the driveway and my husband is there, with a cautionary smile when he sees the look on Sofia’s face. She cries for a few short moments upon seeing Daddy, and he soon manages to calm her with the promise of chocolate pudding.

I think something might have gone wrong there. But in the aftermath, which included several episodes of Super Why and with great fortune only a small protest about going to bed, I started to be happy to be home with my children again. Perhaps my meltdown coping skills just need a little bit more work…or I need to bribe more. Not sure which.