Membership: WMPC

Some days I'm a psychotic member of the WMPC. Today was one of them. If you've never heard of the special club, my story outlines how to join.

I began the day as usual. Grabbed some coffee. Woke the boys. Made lunches. Kissed my husband goodbye. Emptied dishwasher. Signed papers. Checked hair. Checked teeth. Applied chapstick x 2. Checked for hats, gloves, lunches, and homework. Coordinated schedules, and sent the boys out the door to the car pool. Sigh.

Usually, if I'm lucky, I'll have a few minutes to find and reheat my mug of coffee and check my email before my lap is taken over by a sleepy snuggly four-year-old. Not this morning. I barely made it to my desk. But that's O.K.

The house is chilly in the mornings and snuggling is part of our routine. This morning it was somewhere around 8 below outside, and even with the blankets wrapped around, we giggled at the chills we exaggerated. It's our special time.

Daytimes are like that. Between chores, we sit at my desk and do "fun stuff". While I work on line, he does sticker books, letter games, puzzles and whatever else tickles his fancy--as long as it's near me.

When I get my shower, he comes down to the bedroom and gets to climb up into mommy's bed under the electric blanket. He watches some Sesame Street and Barney. Did I tell you he's not a passive watcher? Oh, noooo. It's laugh-out-loud funny to hear him sing with the characters. I love my little guy.

When I'm making dinner, he's right there "helping" me, usually counting down the minutes until its time to go get his brothers at the bus stop. He is a joy, and I find myself just smiling sometimes at how loving he can be.

Then we hit 4:00 and everything changes.

My loving four-year-old becomes a wild Indian wrestling on the floor and sitting on the head of my middle son. There's giggling, screaming, pinching and kicking, till one breaks loose and runs to a new location to be tackled again.

At some point, the mean mom has to break it up and plant someone at the table to do his homework. It's a rotten job. But someone has to do it. If I'm lucky, there won't be math, and there won't be any Social Studies, and we can breeze through with a word find.

But, tonight was not a lucky night.

He not only had two pages of triple digit multiplication with money, he had serious spelling studying to do. Half way through that, he mentioned that he probably might have should have told me before today, but he kind of has a Social Studies Chapter Test tomorrow. A big one.

From there on out, this mom's attitude went down the drain. Besides finishing up dinner, and carting my oldest (and his friends) back and forth between Math Bowl practice and Basketball practice, I now had a mountain of delightful (not) studying to climb with my middle boy.

Of course, my husband was held up at work. That's almost predictable. There's no such thing as a little stress around here.

It's either cool but hopp'n, or its wild and crazy. And when it's wild and crazy and my husband is late, it's wild, crazy, and dangerous!

My four-year-old, who has the happy nice mommy to himself all day, practically stands on his head on the tallest kitchen stool he can find to regain my attention. Sadly, he got it tonight.

After pointing him towards the play room and his movie for the 50 zillionth time so I could help my number 2 with his work, I snapped. "Please, please, PLEASE, GO AWAY. Your brother needs my help right now. I'm BUSY!"

Ugh!!!! Right there. That's where I joined the infamous WMPC.

For the 10 Zillionth time.

Did you guess what the letters stand for? It's the Worst Moms on the Planet Club.

The tears welled up, the chin dimpled, and his shoulders slumped. "But, Mommy," he said, "I need you to love me."

This child can bring even the most frazzled of moments to a dead stop.

A long hug later and the arrival home of his Daddy saved the night from further destruction.

But the guilt is still rumbling around in my belly threatening to undo the Tums.

As Barbara Johnson says, "The end is not near . . .you must learn to cope.

Cope, indeed! I had a healthy start at the school Gym an hour later. As I waited for the Basketball team to finish practice, I joined a few ladies for some girl talk. There's nothing like the confession of a psychotic moment (or lifetime) to friends who understand. It is like balm on an guilty heart, because they've been there.

I love my friends. Sometimes, I honestly don't know what I would do without them. We jokingly formed the WMPC at one of the last games. It's so WONDERFUL to be able to share our struggles and failings and know that we won't be judged. Laughed at, maybe. But not judged. No sirrrreeee. We moms stick together. (Besides, quite possibly, no one else will have us!)

I think its time we do more than chat on the side of the court. Maybe we should have a real meeting, say, at Krispy Kreme's! WMPC members, only. Care to join us?

I thank my God every time I remember you.

Philippians 1:3