Today, like many other days, I was ready. I had snacks, iced water, extra baby clothes, crayons, trucks, trains, paper, a camera, a book to return, and wipes.
I even had bandaids, Hello Kitty bandaids, for my playground duty.
Then Ruby proceeded to poop her way through two layers of clothes and onto my white eyelet outfit. I know, divine retribution for wearing white after labor day, but it is so insanely hot. At least I had my sling so I could cover up most of the mustard yellow poop stains.
I wore poop stains to show and tell. Luckily Ella had her dad there and his much more exciting, much more "explainable" job. She wanted him to wear his university shirt and hat, and she showed the class some maps of where he works and passed around his "book", his dissertation.
Are you feeling it? That my job is killing me and utterly unrecognized. That Ella isn't listening to me at all? That John's job comes with a "brand" and a paycheck, and mine is some sort of hamster wheel.
It is about being tired. When I feel good I'm happy to be monkey wrestling, watercoloring, grocery shopping, diaper changing, and picking up toys. When little people wake me up on saturday morning in the dark asking about juice and televison I start to really waver.
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