Mom’s Code Chronicle #4 Save her When She’s Drowning Part 2 of 2

This is part 2 of Mom’s Code Chronicle #4 Save her When She’s Drowning

To read part 1 of Mom’s Code Chronicle #4 Save her When She’s Drowning, click here.

I hate it when my kids are sick. My worry sometimes spirals into irrational thoughts and everyone ends up micromanaged.

I get home. My little girl immediately begins to complain about the hand raiser in her class. No one else gets the chance to show what they know. The teacher always calls on the same kids. I tell her that she’s a great student and she shouldn’t worry about the hand raisers. I’m secretly stewing about it though. Why do the hand raisers get to dominate the classes?

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I have not even made it out of the entryway when my son tells me someone stole his basketball sneakers or maybe he left them somewhere. He has only been to three places today but somehow he managed to lose his basketball sneakers. He already outgrows them every six months, now he’s losing them? He informs me, “Good news mom. I practiced in my socks and only slipped four times.” His socks are blackened and shredded and he has a rug burn type of mark on his elbow.

I look down at my bitten nails. I keep cheerfulness in my tone. Thank goodness my kids are not observant unless it concerns their electronics, friends or clothes budget. Otherwise they would notice the slight eye tic. My friend calls. She is between projects and having a tough day. She says, “Let’s meet and catch up with a glass of wine.” I’m drowning but agree. She texts, “I look like a wreck.” I text, “I won’t wear make-up so you’ll recognize me.” She texts, “I can’t wash and blow dry my hair or my kids get suspicious I’m going somewhere and bar me from leaving.” I text, “Okay, we are mom ninjas in disguise so we can carve out some free time.”

We meet at a little wine bar. About fifteen thousand words pour out of us. We’re venting about all of the injustices, challenges and trials we’ve faced, and for the most part, mastered. Her kind eyes look into my warrior mom soul and pull out the words and insights. I admit, “I hate the hand raisers that always get called on and star in every school event!” She says, “I hate the moms who prepare perfectly perfect homemade snacks and then my store-bought cookies get put on a back table of shame. I work and don’t have time to bake things from scratch.” I say, “The only time I liked Martha Stewart was when she was in jail.” Then, like every other time, we start laughing and can’t stop. There it is— the release. It’s a reset button.

Then we look at our phones filled with texts from our children, asking when we will be home. No one else can handle the bedtime routine like the mom. I go home and my kids are waiting. All day, they were at school and not missing me one bit, but they always feel better when I’m in the house. I guess it’s ‘just in case’.

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I really value how moms can save each other when we are drowning. It comes in so many forms. Today it was picking up my children and an evening cocktail to share stories of today’s challenges. Then I went home to be the best ‘just in case’ mom to my kids.