Dear Mom who sent your kid to school with no socks today:
My morning started with me mentally counting ahead two hours to figure out what time everyone's bus had been rescheduled for, because the previous day's snowstorm had delayed the opening of school.
As I was packing snacks and making breakfast, my 9-year-old started to scream at an ungodly pitch because it suddenly occurred to him he'd forgotten to do one of his homework assignments.
Who knew that my telling him he had time to do it would do nothing to calm him down?
"I don't want to go to school. I hate when we have a delayed day. I hate school."
The meltdown continued, on and off, for more than half an hour.
In between trying to figure out what was really bothering him, offering comfort, and wanting to sell him, I had to constantly remind my teenager to move it so he wouldn't miss his bus.
Brotherly love was in short supply.
"He just hit me."
"He hit me first."
"Stop your crying. Nobody wants to go to school."
I added to the noise with cries of, "Don't hit your brother. Stop whining. Don't be mean. Move it. I can't drive you if you miss your bus."
I was totally feeling on top of my game, and was expecting my Mother of the Year award to come any minute.
Then I noticed that my daughter had decided to protest the snow by dressing herself for school in a bathing suit. She was very proud of this.
I looked at her and realized that since I still had an hour before her bus came, I could put this situation on the back burner and go back to the battle of the boys.
In the midst of all this chaos, my teen realized that he couldn't find his phone.
Well, now the world was really coming to an end. How could a teen go to school without his iPhone? Climate change, economic inequality, and the threat of terrorism pale in comparison.
More crying. More fighting. More yelling.
I handled the situation perfectly by screaming that if he didn't leave for the bus this minute, it wouldn't matter where his phone was because I would cancel it and never let him have another one for all eternity.
Yes, I was very proud of myself. He left singing my praises and feeling the warmth of my love. Well, at least he was off to school.
One down, two to go.
I still had a very unhappy 9-year-old, but he resigned himself to his fate when his bus pulled up.
The doors opened, and it was then that I saw your daughter. She was talking with a friend, and smiled at me. Her hair was in braids. She was wearing her coat and matching hat, and looked adorable, just as she does every day.
Then, for some reason, I noticed her feet. She wasn't wearing her usual snow boots. In fact, she was wearing sneakers better suited for spring. With no socks.
I could only imagine how this had happened. Maybe you were trying to get your other kids out the door, and she ran out of the house before you saw her? Maybe you had a meeting at work you couldn't miss, and someone else was charged with getting the kids ready? Maybe she couldn't find her boots, and you spent the whole morning turning your house upside down looking for them? Or perhaps you were just tired of battling with her, and finally said, Fine -- go out in the snow in your sneakers.
Whatever the reason, I want you to know that in that minute, I felt a little less alone.
My mood instantly improved, and I was able to get my daughter out of her bathing suit and into far more appropriate clothing without either one of us bursting into tears.
You saved my day.
We moms can be so hard on ourselves, and, in turn, so hard on one another. I realized then and there that sometimes the nicest thing we can do for each other is just be human.
This post was previously published on My dishwasher's possessed!