The Business of Motherhood

This morning I've finally pulled on shoes, zipped up a coat, and backpacked McKay. We are actually inching towards the garage on our way to preschool. "Wait!" she screeches. "I need to wear a necklace!" Well what girl doesn't? One flowered necklace later, we are driving to preschool, both of us singing along to the "Barbie and the Three Musketeers" soundtrack. As we loudly sing the lyrics, "Don't mess with the dress" together, I'm realizing what a perfect moment it is. Flower necklaces, Barbie, singing--this is why I got into the whole mothering business.

I arrive home from dropping McKay off at preschool in time to get a phone call from the school nurse. "Mrs. Davis? Parker's had a little accident and needs some dry clothes." So I get back in the van and head to the school with dry clothes. While I wait for Parker to change, the nurse feels compelled to make small talk. "So how's your day going?" "Well," I tell her, "I'm hoping to do my hair before noon."

Now you may be wondering, much as I was, why my seven year old is peeing his pants at school. So I probed Parker at the dinner table.

"Why didn't you tell your teacher you needed to go to the bathroom?"

"Because if you go to the bathroom during class you have to pay her money." (Parker's teacher has a reward system where the students earn money to spend in their classroom store on Fridays.)

"So why didn't you pay her money?"

"It's like this. Say you want something at the school store that costs two dollars, and you have two dollars. But then you give Mrs. Roberts a dime to use the bathroom. Guess what? You can't buy it on Friday."

"Well, then why didn't you use the bathroom at recess?"

"Because I was playing kickball at recess. My team would have lost the game without me. I got Cameron and Madison out, and they are both really good kickball players."

"Then if you don't use the bathroom at recess, and you don't go during class, when are you going to go?"

"When I get home after school."

"That is not humanly possible."

"I did it once."

"O.k. here's the rule. You go to the bathroom at recess. End of story."

"Awwww..."

"Parker, when are you going to go to the bathroom?"

A grin spreads across Parker's face. "I know...during my spelling test."

Yep, that's what I signed up for--grinning, teasing, all-boy boys.

Today Deacon didn't play in the toilet once. That makes the day almost perfect in itself. (However, I did catch him on Chris's weight bench using the plunger as a barbell.) But Deacon decided to top a toilet-free day. He walks up to me, dragging his blue and white bunny blanket Linus-style behind him, and simply says, "Mommy. Blanket. Cuddle."

I think that must have been written in the mommy job description under compensation. Because why else would we do it? The hours are lousy. There's zero vacation time. My children are yet to come pre-potty trained. But the happy, teasy, cuddle perks....that's what gets me out of bed in the morning. That and McKay.