I’ve witnessed some children in Charlotte’s daycare perform this daily ritual of losing their minds when their parents drop them off.  They cry, wail, and cling to mom or dad until the teachers expertly distract the child.  Come pick-up time they squeal and joyfully run with open arms as their parents scoop them up.

Not our kid.  Nope.  That behavior is very rare.  She can’t wait to get down and play.  She darts for the toys and runs to her peers who’s eyes are still fresh with tears from their goodbyes.  We come and pick her up and she barely looks up.  We have to pry books or toys out of her hands to get her to leave.  Her acknowledgement of us comes only in the form of whines for a paci or crackers to eat in the car.

She will offer a hug, smile, and wave when I leave.  I cherish that and memorize the image to carry with me during the day because that’s all I’ll get.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love that Charlotte is so independent and eager, but is it too much to ask for a little parental longing?  ::sigh::  I have to imagine the parents of clingers wish their kids were a little more like my independent child.

This may have been my single grossest day of parenthood, ever.  That’s saying a lot as every mother knows childbirth is a messy affair and the newborn days of spit up and diaper blowouts give a new appreciation for pre-baby cleanliness.

This morning Greyson went upstairs to get Charlotte.  I heard his concern over the baby monitor, “Oh no!  Baby!”  When I got upstairs I saw the evil that had been in my child’s body.  Surely it was evil that was living in her digestive tract.  Only the devil’s own brand of awful could produce vomit like that.  It was everywhere.

Greyson scooped her up and put her in the shower right away.  I texted my boss to tell her I needed to take Charlotte to the doctor.  This gastrointestinal eruption came just after a fever and snotty nose on Sunday.  I had a bad feeling.  We got her cleaned up and tried to feed her.  She only wanted a little.

I drove all the way to the Pediatrician’s office to discover that their walk-in availability begins an hour later on Wednesdays.  Seriously!?  It’s probably good that we went back home and very good that she didn’t eat too much for breakfast because of what happened next.

The devil shook my daughters belly once more and she threw up all over the living room.  “Oh my God!  Charlotte!”  I started taking off my shoes so I wouldn’t track vomit all over the house.  In these few seconds my sweet baby walked towards me crying with the most pitiful look I have ever seen.  Just when I thought my heart couldn’t take any more, my kid slid and fell down in a pool of her own puke.

Oh God!  Send an angel to rid my child of this deamon!

I cleaned her and the floor up as fast as I could while holding my breath.  Just as I started breathing, the devil reared his ugly head again.  This time out of my baby’s rear.  I smelled what had to be the foulest odor hell has to offer.  Diaper change.  Would we make it to the doctor’s office without another eruption from either end?!?

We did.  She has an ear infection.  Turns out it’s a virus that led to the bacterial ear infection and if she can keep down antibiotics we should be okay.  I guess I’ll treat this with Amoxicillin instead of an exorcism.

Sleeping. If I did that much puking and pooping, I'd need a nap too.

At lunch today I went to the grocery store because I hate doing things before and after work.  It takes away my family time.  It’s the curse of the working mother.  I count the hours, sometimes the minutes I get to spend with my child each weekday.  Sadly I get about an hour in the morning and 2-3 hours in the evening.  A maximum of 4 hours Monday through Friday.

That leaves me 20 hours of missing my daughter.

The missing reached new heights during my shopping trip.  I loaded my cart, pondering which meats and vegetables would make the most balanced meals for my family.  I looked over at another woman doing the same thing.  She was about my age and had a daughter about Charlotte’s age.  I noticed her engagement ring and wedding band were even similar to mine.

She had on sandals, a freshly washed face, and still-damp hair.  She was even wearing one of those “Stay At Home Rock Star” t-shirts.  Her daughter cooed, smiled and reached out for her mom.  I looked down at my high-heels as my phone bleeped with unanswered emails.  I looked back at this woman and wondered what she had done today.  Did she go for a swim lesson with her daughter?  Is that why her hair is wet?  What is she cooking that I have no time to cook?  I rushed back to the office for a conference call, pretending to ignore this woman laughing with her baby as they casually strolled through the parking lot.

I’m never sad to go back to the office.  I like my job and my coworkers, but only having 4 hours is rough.  When I got to school to pick up Charlotte she greeted me with all her toddler enthusiasm.  Her teachers filled me in on her growth and development that I missed that day.

I have to remind myself that it’s quality time that counts and I can’t compare myself to that other mom.  I’m a Rock Star too.

Disclaimer:  This is not a slam on this t-shirt or the moms who wear them.  I think they’re cute.  I also believe ALL mothers are working mothers.  You can find them here: http://www.stayathomerockstar.bigcartel.com/ 

Charlotte loves her crayons from the Easter Bunny.  She squealed and  I thought she might explode when I pulled them out along with her Elmo coloring book yesterday.

I ignored Crayola’s “age 24 months and up” warning on the box because I assumed my kid must be an artistic prodigy and these crayons would somehow awake the creative beast within.

She grabbed one out of the box and happily scribbled Elmo’s face a brilliant, albeit incorrect, turquoise.  This was short lived.  I had started showing her how to color Elmo’s fur red when I looked and she was happily gnawing on the Blue/Green crayon.  She grinned as I scooped wax bits out of her mouth.  When I took away the Blue/Green that little bugger had the Blue/Violet in the other hand!  Before I could stop her she snapped off the end of that one with a look like, “Ha, ha, Mama!”  Bits of purple wax covered her teeth.

After rinsing her mouth I had forgotten all about this until about 10:000am today.

It smelled like any other dirty diaper, but OH MY GOD!  I thought, “When did she eat the remanents of a blue-green-purple Play-Doh experiment gone wrong?!”  I made Greyson come look at what our creative beast had produced.

Like all parents who work outside the home, our weekends are sacred.  It’s our chance to catch up with our growing child.  Two full, uninterrupted days of family time.

We ate cupcakes. (Yeah, I had Gigi’s for the first time and it changed my life)

We hiked around the lake.

And…Greyson got in Charlotte’s wagon with Elmo and Abby Cadabby.

So overall it was a great weekend.  Charlotte did have her moments, however.  You know what I’m talking about.  Periods of inconsolable, toy throwing, snot nosed, tear-filled tantrums that no amount of food nor Sesame Street can end.  It’s a side effect of toddlerhood we’re dealing with on a daily basis.  I have a terrible confession…

At one point during a tantrum I thought, “I want to take her to daycare!”

Oh my God!  I did NOT just think that!  I was horrified and guilt ridden.  Usually I dread Mondays when I have to leave my babe during the day.  I get sad during lunch breaks when I see Stay-At-Home moms out at restaurants with their tots.

But, I was at my wits end.  I was hoping someone else would take a crack at getting through to my child.  Her teachers at school are just the ones to do it.   I actually got excited about going to work and that’s not just because I like my new job.

Later tonight after she had a fully belly and had calmed down she said “Mama! Mama! Mama!” over and over.  In my ears it was like a little songbird from heaven was singing with the angels.  I thought, “That’s it!  I’m pulling her out of daycare so I can be with her all day!”

I have as many mood swings as my toddler.