Flowers, Mothers Day & the Dark Side

There’s nothing like Mother’s Day, with all of its flowers and sentiments, to bring out the dark side in mothers. It’s true.
Even the best of moms have a dark side. And there’s nothing like Mother’s Day to bring it out: the goofs and mistakes, the mothering moments when she knows she wasn’t at her finest, the stories she doesn’t share, the less than stellar moments illustrating why she feels in her heart that she’ll never be selected as Mother-of-the-Year.
You’re not alone. After the relief of laughing with other mothers about some of their classic dark moments, I decided to be bold and share one of mine. Here goes:
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Mother of Five
“I’ll be home shortly,” my husband said on the phone. “Are you ready for the trip?”
“Oh yes,” I said, feeling proud of myself. I had the suitcases all packed, snacks for the kids, house cleaned, lights off, I was ready to go! There was even time to water the flowers in the flowerbed one last time before he got home.
Derryl came home and started packing the car. He stopped. “Where’s the bag for the baby? Didn’t you pack a diaper bag and some clothes for Clarissa?”
“Oh.” I said. “No, I didn’t. I’m not used to having a baby again and I forgot to pack her clothes. Wait just a minute.”
I ran into the house, flustered and hurried. I grabbed baby clothes and tossed them into a bag, not taking time to think, because everyone was ready to go but me.
I emerged from the house red faced and triumphant. “There!” I said. “Now we are ready to go.”
We buckled four kids and a baby into their car seats and set off. We had driven for a couple of hours or more when I discovered the baby was wet. Really wet.
And in my haste, I had forgotten to put any diapers in the diaper bag. And the extras I usually carried had been used and not replaced.
I tried to act casual as I asked, “Uh, honey, could we please stop at the next town we come to and get some diapers for the baby? I sorta forgot to bring any.”
He shot me an annoyed look. “Okay, but it’s going to be another hour before we get to the next town.”
“Alright,” I said meekly.
Sixty minutes later my hubby pulled into the parking lot of Al’s Market in Spanish Fork and stopped. “What are we doing here?” I asked.
“I thought you said you needed to stop and buy some diapers,” he let out a deep breath.
“Oh, yeah, right. I do. Diapers. I’ll just run in real quick so we don’t have to unbuckle everybody.”
“We might as well all come in and pick up some food for breakfast to eat in the motel room tomorrow morning,” he said, ever the practical one.
“Okay.”
We all headed into the store. We picked out cereal, paper bowls, plastic spoons, and individual yogurt cups for each child. We had more than enough of everything.
At the checkout counter Derryl emptied the cart. The clerk rang up the total. “Where are the diapers?” he asked.
“What?”
“The diapers. For the wet baby. You know, our fifth child. I thought you said we needed diapers. That’s why we stopped, you know, so you could buy diapers?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, feeling foolish. “Wait right here,” I told the clerk. I dashed down the aisles, looking for diapers, then sorting through a dazzling array of sizes and kinds.
At last I found what I wanted and tossed them onto the counter, breathless.
Meanwhile all four kids had wandered over to the bubble gum machines looking for leftover change in the slots and begging for gum.
“No gum,” said Derryl, “we’ve already taken too much time and we still have a long drive ahead of us. Let’s go.”
I changed the baby and buckled her back into her car seat. We piled into the van. But he didn’t start the engine. “Are you sure you got everything?” he asked. “Did you get enough food and everything?”
“Of course,” I said. And to remove his doubt I rattled off the list, “We got Captain Crunch, milk, spoons, bowls, frosted strawberry pop tarts, 4 yogurts for the kids, two more for you and me...”
“Did you get anything for the baby? Baby food? Yogurt? Formula? What about baby food for Clarissa?”
“Oh.” I said, now thoroughly deflated. “I forgot the baby food. Wait while I run in and get some.” He let out a sigh. He was clearly exasperated with me. I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“What is the MATTER with me?” I scolded myself out loud as I darted ping-pong fashion down the aisle looking for Gerber mashed bananas and strained peas and carrots. “Why, oh why, can’t I remember that I have a baby and that she has needs too?” A woman further down the aisle looked at me as if I was daft. Perhaps I was.
I climbed into the van, slammed the door, and said, “There! Now there’s food for ALL of us!”
At the motel the bigger kids claimed their beds while Derryl started rolling out sleeping bags and making beds for the littler kids on the floor. “Where are the blankets for Clarissa’s bed?” he asked me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t bring any blankets or bedding for the baby?”
I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t, because I was speechless. Apparently I was going senile at the age of 32, because of course I had forgotten her blankets too.
I sank onto the bed, my spirits sagging along with the hotel mattress. Holding my baby close to me, her petal-soft cheek against mine, I laughed and cried simultaneously, her tears mingling with my own. Oh my little one, my baby, my sweet. I loved her with all of my heart, but her life was going to be one peach of an adventure with me as her mother.