One of the gifts my winter job brings with it is that there are times when at the end of the day I fancy myself to be an okay mom. Not anything that will win Mother of the Year or anything, but still a mom who might someday inspire something like this from my kids when they are sitting around their college dorm and passing a doobie with their friends, “Yeah, she was one hell of a nut, but in that fun way where I knew she might throw all my clothes in the snow because I didn’t pick up my room for a month. But she would never burn my clothes or pee on them. She was definitely cool that way.”
The thing with managing a daycare facility is that I get to meet and greet these parents who have either just birthed or adopted these babies and they truly, honestly believe that their spawn is the be all and end all to all other spawns upon this earth. Yep. Today I met a mother who requested that I stop a certain construction project that was causing a bit of a draft in the play room. She told me that her baby doesn’t like to be cold and how she was worried about her wee one’s health. In the next breath she asked me when we would be taking her baby out for a buggy stroll. I must have looked like quite the dumb fuck as I sat there with my head cocked to one side and drool pooling at the corner of my mouth as I wondered to myself, “If you’re so damn worried about the cold why the hell did you come to a fucking ski resort for your vacation?” Or there was the other mom who although I called her cell phone to tell her her baby had not eaten all day and desperately needed to nurse told me when she came to pick him up, “Oh yeah, I got your call but I was on my way to lunch and figured he would work it out by the time I finished and skied a few runs. It’s time for him to learn to take a bottle anyway.” Oh. Ouch. See, it’s all relative. I really am a fabulous mom after all.