Busy

Life has been really busy lately; so busy, that I haven't had a single second to record some of the more significant events around here. I was pondering what kind of post I could make this month to summarize all the comings and goings and happenings in the Gudahl house, but this morning provided me with one of those time-stands-still moments that does it just beautifully for me.

The Kindergarten program at Fairmont Elementary is exceptional; I could go on all day about that. Just one example would be the nights they set aside for students to come in with a parent, have dinner together, and bond a little over their education. This fall, they hosted one of those evenings and we weren't able to attend due to other commitments. I was determined to make it to the next one, so when I saw the sheet come home I made a mental note that it was going to be held in the first week of February. Cooper began talking about it at home days and days ago, and reminded me often that there was going to be a "party" at his school. I could tell it was important to him, so I added it to the calendar in my phone.

Last night, Emma had basketball practice at the elementary school at 5:00. I am helping coach her basketball team, so I was there with her, while Carys and Cooper were attending wrestling practice with Aaron at the high school. When my practice ended, I noticed one of the girls wasn't going home, but sitting in the hallway. When I asked if she needed to call her mom, she said, "No, my mom is doing that Kindergarten thing with my brother, and I'm just waiting for them."

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach.

I walked over to the signboard in the hallway and saw that I had, indeed, missed the program. I pulled out my phone and saw that I had entered it a day later on my calendar.

I can't tell you how terrible I felt driving home. I accept full responsibility for it; we have had somewhere to go and something to do nearly every day, nearly every minute, for the last month. Of course it makes perfect sense that the program would fall on the same night we already had two other commitments.

If I had taken a single minute to re-check the date, taken a single second out of my day to really look at what clearly was so important to the little man, I would have seen the conflict and figured out how to fit it in. Cooper has been wrestling in two different clubs all winter, so it wouldn't have been a big deal at all to miss one night of practice to attend his school function.

I dreaded having to tell him. When all 5 of us got home, it was already 7:00, and the kids were rushing through showers while I was rushing to put dinner on the table. Things were chaotic, and I thought I'd better wait to give him the bad news until things were calmer and quieter. Unfortunately, dinner was followed by a mad homework-completing extravaganza, followed by tooth-brushing, jammie-wearing, story-reading, bed-tucking, drink-of-water-getting craziness, and I just let it go.

This morning, as I was making breakfast, Cooper came into the kitchen and tugged on my sweater. He said, "Mom, do you have to work at 5:00?" I said, "No, why?" He said, "Because I think my school party is at 5:00 and I didn't want you to miss it."

I wasn't prepared, I wasn't ready. I just turned slowly around and said, "Buddy. I am so sorry, but we missed it. It was last night."

I wish I could accurately frame his reaction with my words. His face absolutely crumpled, and tears filled his brown eyes immediately. He turned on his heel and went into the living room where he threw himself on the sofa and cried his little heart out.

For a moment I just stood in the kitchen, holding a spatula in the air while the eggs bubbled behind me. Aaron looked at me, wide-eyed, and said, "Oh Sara. He was REALLY looking forward to that."

I felt just sick. I turned off the stove and went to Cooper, where he was pouring his troubles face-down into the couch cushions. As I pulled him on to my lap, I felt guilt of such an enormous magnitude. When the kids were younger, I used to devote whole days to them, individually. We would have Mommy and Emma days, Mommy and Carys days, and Mommy and Cooper days on a rotating basis. The other two would go to Grandma's, or to daycare, and I would spend time that was singular to each one alone. I haven't done that in nearly two years, I think.

There was no excuse to make; all I could do was tell him over and over how sorry I was that I had messed up. I promised to find a way to make it up to him, and he pressed his forehead into my neck and tried to catch his breath. He would wipe his eyes hard with the back of his hand, and sniff loudly, but he still wouldn't look at me. I felt truly like the lowest human on the face of the earth.

I could only promise that he and I would carve out some time together tonight and we would do something just the two of us. Suddenly I had landed on something that seemed to interest him a little more, and he finally fastened his brown eyes on me and said, "Like what?"

I was so excited that he had finally looked at me that I blurted out, "Maybe you could teach me how to play Skylanders?" (That is the name of his favorite video game, and I have had absolutely no inclination to play it whatsoever, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.) The clouds in his eyes began to part, and even though his cheeks were still red and swollen, he said, "Ok. But we better play the Giants first, because that's the easiest and you won't be very good at it."

Then, as he used the bottom of his tee shirt to wipe his nose, he launched into a description of characters, and what powers they have, and what obstacles we will face, etc. I recognized that we had turned the corner, and I sighed a little sigh of relief that we were able to get through the worst of it before I had to leave for school.

But make no mistake; I have let him down, and I know it. It feels terrible, because a promise made needs to be a promise kept, and I had PROMISED him we would attend his program. So I have some work to do, and it has to start with me slowing down the activity train a little at our house.

When you are presented with opportunities for your kids, you are quick to say yes, because you want to give them lots of experiences. In today's athletics world, every minute you give them helps, so we say yes yes yes to soccer and softball and basketball and wrestling and swimming. Multiply that times 3 kids, and some days we don't know if we are coming or going.

I have the same problem in my professional life; I coach at the high school, I coach at the elementary, I run youth camps, I run the Student Council, I'm a team leader, I'm part of the Staff Development committee...and the list goes on and on.

But the list needs to come to a screeching halt, or at least a slow crawl, because let's be real here. I like to be a positive presence in the lives of my students...but I am also in the business of being someone's mom. And I need to be a good one, because I will run out of chances to read to them, to play with them, and to make them feel like they are number one in my world.

I sent an email to the head track coach at our school today. I am taking the spring season off this year. This spring, I'm going to go to the library with my kids. I'm going to take them to the park when it is warm. I'm going to be home by 4:00 every day to make dinners, clean the house and still have time to sit on the end of their bed and read the next book in the Narnia series. I'm going to ride bikes with them outside, and jump on the trampoline, and take them to Kindergarten programs.

And as for tonight...I'm off to play video games, with my number one guy.