Yesterday was supposed to be a fun and festive day. I was supposed to
Have a leisurely morning getting the house back together, doing breakfast dishes and laundry, and sitting down for Table Time.
Take a shower, do hair and make-up (this rarely happens on a Monday) to get ready for Chad’s office Christmas party lunch. Wear my cute new plumberry skinny jeans. (Yes, I had my outfit all planned.)
Take Locke to babysitting co-op so I could enjoy adult conversation during the Christmas party lunch.
Order salmon or a fresh salad at one of my favorite nicer restaurants, La Jolla Groves.
Hit a few stores on the way home for some last minute Christmas gifts.
Go to a family party and visit with cousins, aunts, and uncles.
Eat lots of yummy food.
Go to my daughter’s dance showcase.
Like I said, Monday was supposed to be a fun, festive day.
But instead I was woken up in the middle of the night by a certain cry. You know the cry that sounds just enough different that you know something is wrong. You know your child is sick and you instinctively know that your plans for the next day just got wiped out.
Locke woke up with a weird rash all over his face, wrist, tummy, etc. Plus a runny nose. Poor little guy.
So instead of make-up and a cute outfit, I was still in my robe at 12:00 when Croft got picked up for Kindergarten.
Instead of salmon and lemon cake, I ate cereal and a few bites of Annie’s macaroni for lunch.
Instead of Target and Hobby Lobby, I shopped at Amazon.com on my bed with Locke snuggled up next to me.
Instead of visiting with relatives and adult conversation, I read “The Little Mermaid” and “101 Dalmations” to a 3 year old.
Instead of watching a dance recital, I watched Bubble Guppies, Team Umizoomi, Dora the Explorer, Max and Ruby, and Sesame Street.
My fun, festive plans changed on a dime as I heard that “off” cry in the middle of the night.
Although I felt bad for Locke, I was frustrated too because of all that I had to get done in the next 7 days. The busyness of the season was weighing on my shoulders. I couldn’t have a sick kid this week!
But as I went about my new day, I kept thinking about of all those mothers in Connecticut whose plans and life changed on a dime too, but in a vastly different way. They were supposed to pick up their children from school. They were supposed to eat dinner, read books and give baths. They were supposed to go to Christmas parties, shopping, or dance recitals with their children. They were supposed to see Christmas lights and Santa. They were supposed see their kids smiling faces on Christmas morning as they opened up their gifts. And of course there were supposed to be graduations, weddings and grandbabies.
Sometimes the “supposed to be’s” of life and motherhood are the most painful part.
As I thought about what was supposed to be for my Monday, my conscience whispered to me, “Get a real problem, sister.”
I will count my blessings that I got to spend a whole day with Locke snuggled in right by my side. I got to wipe his nose 30 times. I got to get him his blanket and his stuffed animal. I got to see his little face up close. I got to talk trains and cars and chocolate. I got to eat lunch, breakfast and dinner with him. I got to read him books and sing him to sleep and kiss him goodnight. And it was a gift.
Motherhood brings the greatest joy along with the greatest sorrow. My hugs and thoughts and prayers go out to all the moms and families in Connecticut. My heart hurts for what was supposed to be.