Susan GrahamThe Working Mom Blues
February 7th 2009 03:33
Photo by Ryan Glanzer
It used to be a daily occurrence when the kids were babies. Each morning, the front door became a tear-filled torture chamber as I forced myself to walk away from the only things that mattered to me in this world. Things slowly got better as the kids got older, but some days that familiar heartache still rears its ugly head.
Today was one of those days. My 6-year-old daughter is in the process of losing her second tooth. It’s the bottom front tooth, so it affects every aspect of her life from eating to talking. As I’ve mentioned before, “Princess” is a very special girl. To her, each of the most natural, everyday functions that we all take for granted – from eating breakfast to putting on shoes to pooping – is a tremendous ordeal.
For most kids, losing a tooth is two parts excitement, one part fear and seven parts cool and gross. For Princess, the process is nine-and-a-half parts fear and one-half part cool and gross. As a result, she was a soggy mess this morning, full of tears, spit, snot and a little bit of blood thrown in for effect.
That tooth was just hanging by a thread, and she was determined to get it out before she left the house. But she was too scared to actually pull on it, so she stood in the bathroom all morning crying her eyes out as she repeatedly rinsed with water and spit in hopes of dislodging it “tsunami-style.” There was no way we could put her on the bus in her condition.
The bus came and went, and we hoped she would calm down before I left for work so I could drive her to school. No such luck. The tooth was being as stubborn as the girl, so I was forced to walk away and go to work, leaving my daughter a puffy-eyed mess.
I get no sympathy from my co-workers who say, “Well at least your husband is there with her.” Any mom will tell you there are some things a kid needs her Mommy for. Hubby is a fantastic father, and he will be as sweet and gentle with her as I would, but it’s just not Mommy.
I know, I know. It’s more about me than it is about her. She will be just fine. I will come home this afternoon to a smiling, happy girl who may or may not have a missing tooth. It just irks me to have to spend my day with other people’s children when I could be home hugging my own kids.
I will get through it, and thankfully these dreadful days are getting less frequent. But it makes it no less painful when they do come along.
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