Only Wednesday

It’s Wednesday… I think. Yes, Wednesday. The notorious “hump day” that working folk strive to overcome as they begin to anticipate being closer to the weekend and further from Monday.

I said something this week that I never expected to say: I’d really like to make it through an entire week of work without being called out early.


It’s true, though. With four full time children in our care, someone is always needing more. More time, more attention, more health consciousness, more appointments, more extracurricular activities, more stimulation. And I’m quickly realizing that it’s hard – really hard – to stretch myself in so many directions at once. Something’s got to give.

I used to look at those stick people stickers on the back of people’s family vehicles (usually vans) and marvel at the stretch of faces depicted. Used to. Then, while sitting behind a car one day, I counted the heads and realized their family was no different than mine in size – right down to the family dog. Yes, we’re seven strong; or rather, seven trying to get along.

The number of people actually involved in this family dynamic continues to baffle me. It’s not just mom and dad trying to raise five children. Great grandma has a say. So do numerous grandparents. So, apparently, do neighbors and well meaning teachers offering untrained counseling. Everyone has something to contribute to how we should or what we should do all the time. It takes a village to drive a mom insane with second guessing her every decision… wait, that’s not how it goes.

My mom texted me yesterday that “We need to talk.” One of the kids is troubled and I’m either the problem or have been blind to it.
And yet, I have been in daily conversation with my babies. I listen to their daily stories of school yard antics, classroom triumphs, and hard knocks of life. I try to advocate when I’m informed of injustice against them. I buffer the wrath of my counterpart’s frustration – often playing “good cop” when he’s home. But I’m also bad cop laying down the law when it’s only me.

And it is sometimes only me: Making mistakes in how punishment is doled out; choosing to ignore little things and focus on the immediate bigger issues; and trying to balance fairness and truth amidst omissions and bad behaviors.

I don’t profess to be perfect. It seems like the longer I’m a mother, the more errors I make on the job.

It’s Wednesday. Only Wednesday. The days roll on. I wonder if I’ll ever make it through a week without being called out.

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