Friday, June 10, 2011

I'm Overdue for my Performance Evaluation

While C and R were at their last morning of VBS, I had big plans to take Siley with me to The City. You know, the one with stores and other fancery. It seemed like a great idea, until we got drenched in a sneaky downpour. And then Silas threw a fit because I made him hold my hand as we crossed the parking lot into Lowe's. We did the whole drag-the-child-by-the-arm-while-he-hops-and-screeches. A dude with multiple piercings gave me an endeared smile and held the door for me and I've gotta be honest, it helped.

Until we were in the paint aisle and Silas commenced another fit over the paint chips. I get that they are oddly intriguing, but two "byues" (blues) were enough, in my humble opinion.

This child. He really is fitful.

And that's all I'll say about that.

Later, whilst weeding my green beans and surprise flower bed, it hit me: I'm not privy to constant feedback on how fantastic I am at my job. I don't get glowing performances evaluations. I am not publicly bragged about. My boss doesn't take me out for lunch on a random Tuesday.

I agree, it's odd that I had never fully realized this until today. There were puzzling meteorological conditions at the time of my epiphany which must have had something to do with it. Dirty nails and rumbling thunder and two kids armed with cans of Silly String are known to produce heightened levels of clarity. You should totally try it.

But anyway.

I was not really feeling sorry for myself. But I did decide that I had earned a fabulous day off. I would hire a sitter for the whole day (this is a recurring daydream of mine) and go somewhere. With cash in my pocket. I would buy two new books, maybe three. I'd wear a cute outfit and probably even earrings. I would eat whatever the heck I wanted to for lunch and take in a matinee. I would fix my hair. I would sing Missy Higgins songs with the windows down, dragging out every last Aussie drawl. "Groeyw towll shuyougah caiyne..."

The silly string ran out and the clouds loomed low, so with my hands covered in dirt, we all high-tailed it inside and I prepared my own Big Promotion dinner. Dinner prep was as chaotic as always, but I kept thinking to myself, "Make your own day."

It's what we Mamas do. It's what we have to do. We decide what it takes to nudge us through the soggy parts. Well, it just so happens that I need dinner on the porch involving both gorgonzola and feta.

I'd heard good things about this place.

We watched Edwin and Fredwin and Ralphie while we dined. We wiped our mouths on the old curtains. Silas chanted "Mo Bacon! Mo Bacon!"

The kids cleaned their plates, and I decided to call that an "Exceeds Expectations".

In lieu of a raise, I gave myself a slice of strawberry pie.

All things considered, it was a good day at the office.

And one last thing, from me to you: You are good at your job, Mama. Good, as in the world around you probably would implode just a little without you. You keep things clean and bodies fed. You get people where they need to go. You play games when you'd rather not. You create the world around your Littles every single day and make it look like magic. You have totally earned a day off. But until you actually get one, settling for pie isn't a half-bad idea. Trust me.