Category: Mothering without a licence

A day off

I took a sick day yesterday. The boys had me up at 4:30 am, and the sleep deprivation coupled with the low-grade migraine that has been dogging me since the weekend pushed me over the edge. I checked my mental calendar, realized I had no meetings scheduled at work nor nothing that couldn’t wait for a day, agonized for another 30 minutes – going to far as to turn on the shower and turn it off again in my indecision – before finally giving up and calling in. (Digression: I hate calling in sick – the actual placing of the call, I mean. On days when I am very sick and have decided in the middle of the night to call in the next morning, my dreams in the wee hours of the morning often revolve around me forgetting to call in and coming to some unfortunate end because of it.)

Having decided to take the day off work, the next dilemma was whether to keep one, or both, of the boys home from daycare. I know Tristan loves his friends and the daycare provider, so I wasn’t really too worried about him. But Simon is still having a few transitional issues and rarely naps well when he’s with Bobbie (the daycare provider). After obsessing just a little too much about it, and hashing it out with Beloved (who was completely perplexed by my desire to keep Simon home) I decided to send both boys and spend the day by myself.

What place have I come to in my life that taking a sick day – one where I’m actually sick! – seems like I’m getting away with something, like I’m somehow cheating the system? It’s the first time since Simon was born that I could actually indulge in feeling like crap, and not have to worry about taking care of someone else at the same time. I think that was the very hardest part of being a stay-at-home mom for the year or so I was home – there is nowhere to hide when you’re really sick, and you can’t just put the baby in the garage for a couple of hours while you nap and take a long shower and lie moaning pathetically on the couch. (No, I am not good with being sick. It’s not pretty.)

So I took my nap, and my long shower. I walked up to the store for my favourite migraine relief – plain chips and coke (I don’t know why, but it works.) Then I picked up the toys, did some laundry, cleaned up the kitchen and got the garbage ready for the curb. I hung up the clothes that had been piling up on the chair, vacuumed the main floor and sorted through some unopened mail from a week (or two?) ago. By the time I was walking over to the daycare provider’s to pick up the boys, I was feeling much better. But I was feeling GUILTY for not having done more. Sheesh, I was thinking, home for a full day with nobody around, and that’s all I managed to do? Again, I am wondering what place I have come to in my life when I have a (self-imposed) to-do list on a sick day and why I feel guilty when I don’t get through it. I used to be much lazier. I miss those days!

I have the power

It started innoccuously enough. I was trying – with little success – to motivate Tristan into getting his little butt in gear so we could get out the door. He had a different agenda.

Me (ordinary voice) : “Okay, Tristan-bean, time to get your shoes on.”
Tristan : ignore
Me (singsong voice) : “Triiiiistan, it’s time to go. Come here please.”
Tristan : ignore, poke Simon
Me (stern voice) : “That’s enough of that. Get over here so I can put your shoes on.”
Tristan : ignore, poke Simon
Me (annoyed voice): “Hey! Are you listening to me? I said get over here NOW.”
Tristan : ignore, starts pulling socks off
Me (bellowing) : “Don’t you DARE pull those socks off.”
Tristan : tosses peeled-off sock in the other direction

That’s when it happened. Like tumblers clicking into place, something shifted deep in my psyche. It burbled up from the depths of my being in an icy geyser. I felt my facial features twisting, pulling, moulding into something I had never experienced. That’s when I unleashed… (cue ominous music) the Icy Glare of Impending Doom.

My own mother has an Icy Glare of Impending Doom that would freeze a hardened criminal in his tracks. I am 35 years old, and still wake in the night after panicked dreams of being on the wrong end of the Icy Glare of Impending Doom. It is the ocular equivalent of a taser.

I didn’t know I had it in me. It never occured to me to even attempt an Icy Glare of Impending Doom – such powers are not to be trifled with. Like divine intervention, the Icy Glare of Impending Doom makes itself available when the time is right.

To my amazement and delight, the Icy Glare of Impending Doom lasered through my eyeballs and neutralized Tristan’s obstinance. As he scuttled obediently over to collect his discarded sock, his eyes flashed a quick succession of surprise, respect and compliance. He never saw it coming.

Like a superhero discovering their secret talent, I feel I have come fully into my power as a mother now. I have harnessed the power of the Icy Glare of Impending Doom. Don’t mess with me or I’ll glare at you, too.