Crazy Mommies and Telepathic Husbands

Well, another day of school, another Mommy freak out moment.

Here's the deal. We woke up late this morning because the alarm didn't go off due to operator error. (We'll leave it at that). So I am already in a rotten mood before we leave the house. I'm trying my best to fake calm and happy because I don't want the kids to get a negative idea about their morning routine or going to school.

We get to the school, and yay, we're on time. We start walking into the building, and see one of the boys best buddies from Pre-K being dropped off by her mom. I wave and give the mom a thumbs-up that I will escort her daughter to her classroom (not in class with one of the boys, though we wish she were, SUPER great kid). Little girl gets to class; I kiss Twin A, he gives me a huge hug (all smiles), and tells me good-bye. My husband escorts him into his classroom while I take Twin B to his room.

We start going through his morning routine in the class: back-pack in the cubby, important folder on top shelf of cubby, name tag on, go sign-in by the door. And by sign-in they mean put your name written on a card at the top of a sticky wall hanging.

Twin B is looking, I am looking . . . no name card. Dear Hubby approaches, and asks what is going on. I explain.

Now, here is where the 'Mommy Moment' starts. Twin B looks at me with desperate eyes, eyes that say, "Mommy, where is it? What do I do? I can't sign-in without my name card, but it's not here!" I try to be the calm one. "Honey, let's raise our hand and tell the teacher we don't see the card."

Desperate eyes widen, mouth droops, and he buries his face in my shirt. Great.

I raise my hand, and when the teacher approaches, I make him turn to face her while I explain the situation. She is as sweet as can be, gets him a new card, and he is all smiles as he sticks it to the wall hanging.

Then he faces me, gives me a huge hug, and says, "Bye, Mommy. I love you."

I fight back the tears (not really, but I am feeling very maternal at this point), and watch him rush to the carpet at the center of the room with his new friends.

Dear Hubby and I are leaving. He is watching the sea of humanity around us, kids everywhere; running, walking, talking, laughing, crying (yes, some of the little kids were still upset by day three), basically doing the things that kids do. He makes the innocent comment, "This will be so much easier on Monday when I drop them off."

I freeze. "You're not going to walk them to class?"

He pauses, unaware I am about to go postal. "No."

"You're walking them to class." I march from the building as DH now tries to keep up with me.

"But . . . honey, they're fine."

I know. "They still need someone with them."

We are now at my car, and DH is loading the baby into her car seat. He repeats, a little more slowly, "But honey, they're fine. They don't need us to walk them to class."

But I need us to walk them to class. "You're walking them to class." As if repeating the same thing is going to make him understand why I feel this way.

"I really think they'll be okay."

I sigh. Why can't my husband be telepathic, and just know why I'm acting crazy without me having to explain the crazy to him?

"Sweetie, I need you to walk them to class. Just until we're sure they know where to go, and what to do when they get there. Mostly until they know what to do when they get there."

"They can ask the teacher." AAHHHH! How am I supposed to fight logic with my emotional nonsense?

"I know. But just a little longer. Please?"

He sighs. "I'm not supposed to understand this, am I?"

I shake my head and smile. "Nope."

He smiles and hugs me. "Fine. I'll walk them to class a little longer."

"Thank you, honey."

"You owe me."

"I know."

Now we'll just have to see how it goes when I start pulling up in the car to pick them up after school, rather than walking to the front to get them.

Have a great weekend.