After he left, Abby wiggled in her chair. I could tell from the way her eyes roamed the restaurant that she was thinking about making a run for it.
“Abby, do you want to color with me?” I pulled out some paper and a few crayons from my purse.
She relaxed and began to doodle on the paper with me. I treasured the interaction with her and praised her scribbles.
When she grew bored with that, I began drawing animals for her to guess. After she’d guessed a few, she began to get very excited. The next animal I drew was a cat, but Abby saw something different.
“Rat!” She shrieked and laughed. “Rat!”
“No, Abby, it’s a cat.” I shushed her. “We have to keep our voices down in a restaurant.”
“No, Mommy! It’s a rat!” she bellowed.
My cheeks flushed, my heart pounded, and I prepared myself for what might happen next. No matter how long I’d known Abby, no matter how many times we’d eaten at a restaurant, what happened next was nothing I’d expected.
“Rat!” she shouted and jumped down from her chair. “It’s under the table, Mommy!” Abby began to run.
I reached for her arm but she bolted right past me. “Rat! Rat!” She ran past the other tables.
“Abby!” I chased after her and barely dodged a waitress with a tray of food.
By this time, the other customers were peeking under their tables and looking around the floor of the restaurant.
“Mommy, there it is!” Abby pointed to the corner near the kitchen.
A few people stood up from the tables. One woman seated near the kitchen screamed and jumped up on her chair.
“No, there’s no rat!” I panicked in the chaos and snatched Abby up from the floor.
Now this was a bad move. I knew it was. If I picked Abby up mid-run it was like rubbing a cat’s belly.
Abby began to thrash and fight in my arms, all while still screaming about a rat.
I managed to get her to the door of the restaurant when the waiter reappeared.
“Your meal.” He held out a to-go bag.
I wondered how he knew to package it up, but decided not to ask and just handed over my credit card.
Abby bucked and squirmed with such fury that I almost dropped the card.
The waiter scanned it. “And what would you like to add for a tip?” He met my eyes.
“You expect a tip? You didn’t even serve us, and you’ve been rude since we walked through the door.”
“Maybe because this is no place for a child. Take her to Skippy Doos down the street. She obviously can’t dine with other people.”
His words made my skin crawl with anger. But as I looked at the staff trying to assure the other diners that there weren’t any rats, I had to admit that he might be right. I added a small tip and then left the restaurant with tears in my eyes.
Once I managed to get Abby buckled into her car seat, I sat in the front and began to cry.
Abby’s angry cry suddenly went silent.
“Mommy? You’re sad, Mommy?”
“Yes.” I wiped at my eyes. “I’m sad.”
“Why? I make you sad, Mommy?”
I looked over my shoulder at my little girl with her wide eyes and red cheeks. I never wanted her to think that she made me sad.
“No, baby. I’m just tired.”
“No, you’re sad.” She kicked her feet and sniffled. “I want Daddy.”
“Me too.” I sighed and rested my head against the steering wheel. “Me too.”
Chapter 5
The next morning was the same routine, except I forgot to pick something for Abby to take to show and share.
She hadn’t forgotten and had an entire bag full of toys.
“Abby, we can only take one.”
“Why?” she whined.
“Because all the kids will need a turn. If you take too many toys not everyone will get a turn and that won’t be fair.”
“Please, Mommy?” She batted her eyes at me.
“No, just one.”
“Okay.” She pouted. “This one.” She picked up Max’s favorite hat.
“That’s not a toy, Abby. You’re supposed to bring a toy.”
“But I want this one,” she groaned.
I considered my options. I could put my foot down, make her pick a toy, or pick one myself and endure a meltdown. But was it worth the battle? Would the teacher really care if it were a hat or a toy?
“Okay, we have to ask Daddy though.”
“Ask me what?” Max stepped out of the bedroom as he straightened his tie.
“Abby wants to take your hat for show and share.”
“Sure. Just take good care of it, okay, Abby?”
“I will!” She jumped up and down.
I set the hat on her head and we headed for the door.
“Sammy.” Max’s voice drew my attention.
“Yes?”
“Are you forgetting something?”
“Oh, her lunch bag.”
“That, and…?”
“Right, I was going to drop off the library books.”
“Okay, and…?”
“I don’t think I’m forgetting anything else.”
“A kiss?” He pulled me close and kissed me with more passion than I’d expected. When he broke away he looked into my eyes. “I haven’t forgotten about our conversation. I am thinking about it.”
“Good. So am I.”
“Good. We’ll talk later, hm?” He offered me that slow sweet smile that still made my heart leap.
“Yes, later.” I kissed his cheek, then we both headed out the door.
When I arrived at the preschool, I started to get nervous. What if the teacher said she couldn’t use the hat for her show and share? Abby would freak out.
I walked her up to the front door and smiled at the teacher.
“Abby brought her dad’s favorite hat for show and share.”
“Oh, how sweet.” She smiled. “Good choice, Abby.”
“It’s okay for her to use it then?”
“Sure. It’ll get passed around but I’ll make sure it’s put somewhere safe after that.”
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem.” She smiled again and led Abby inside.
When I returned to the house, I settled in to work on my latest book. I was too distracted by a mixture of emotions, however, to get anywhere.
Instead, I decided to write a blog post about the turmoil I was experiencing. I wrote about the conflict of wanting the freedom and exploration of a book tour and the safety of the day-to-day routine that we’d fallen into. I could tell that Max and I both wanted something different, yet we’d bought into the idea that we had no other choice. I longed for my life to reflect the kind of life I hoped my daughter would lead—a life of freedom, curiosity, and passion.
After I posted the blog entry, I was able to work on a few chapters of my book.
The alarm went off on my phone to remind me to pick Abby up from preschool. I shivered a little as I realized that I might have forgotten without it. Was that real life? Being so caught up in the have-tos that loved ones disappeared from my mind?
I arrived at the school eager to see Abby. After the emotional cleansing of posting my thoughts, I felt more balanced and ready to confront any toddler tantrums that might occur.
When I walked through the door of the classroom, I saw Abby on the time-out chair in the corner of the room. Huge tears rolled down her cheeks. Not wanting to step on the teacher’s toes, I resisted running over to her.
“What’s going on?”
“Abby had some trouble with listening today, and she has been in a very cranky mood.” The teacher frowned. “I tried to get her to quiet down but she was being very disruptive.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. She was great during show and share but after that it was meltdown after meltdown. You may want to take her to her doctor.”
“Why? Does she have a fever?”
“No, but h
er behavior is out of control. He may want to do an assessment.”
“An assessment?” I shook my head. “She’s three.”
“A few of her classmates are on medications to help them with attention problems.”
My blood began to boil. I bit into the tip of my tongue and reminded myself that the teacher likely had Abby’s best interest at heart.
When I walked over to my daughter, she threw her arms around my waist and bawled into my stomach. I realized right away that this wasn’t a tantrum. She wasn’t angry, she was heartbroken, and that was rather unusual for Abby.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” I kissed her forehead. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Daddy’s hat.” She moaned. “It’s gone.”
“Gone?” I frowned. “I’m sure it’s fine. Did you ask the teacher where she put it?”
“She’s mean!” She stomped her foot on the floor.
“Calm down. Let’s go talk to the teacher.” I took her hand in mine and we walked over to the teacher.
“Abby is very concerned about her father’s hat. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t. I put it in the closet after show and share to keep it safe.”
“That’s when she got upset, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t really think about that.”
“Did you even ask her why she was upset?”
“We were very busy with other things.”
“So, you just put her in time-out?”
“When she wouldn’t calm down, yes.”
“How could she calm down if you didn’t ask her what was wrong?”
“Samantha, I know that it seems harsh but there are twenty-five kids in this class and I can’t sit down with each of them every time they get upset.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I thought that was your job?”
“Abby is very emotional—she takes a lot of attention.”
“Wow.” I shook my head. “She calmed right down for me as soon as I asked her what was wrong. Please give me her father’s hat.”
“Okay, I’ll get it right now.” The teacher retrieved the hat from the closet and handed it over.
“I hope you understand I was only trying to make sure it didn’t get damaged. The instructions were to bring a toy.”
“I understand. However, I would also like all of Abby’s things. She will not be coming back here.”
“Samantha, I think you’re overreacting. It’s natural to be protective of your child; nevertheless you have to realize that at home she’s special, but here she’s just like all of the other kids.”
“Maybe you should realize that every one of these kids is special, and if you bothered to take the time to actually interact with them, you’d see that they’re capable of communicating if you give them the chance.”
“You’re really going to remove her over one little incident?”
“Yes. Because I trusted you to care about my daughter’s feelings, not call her overly emotional. I trusted you to be compassionate, not just sit her in time-out. That was my mistake.”
“Fine.” She gathered Abby’s things and handed them over. “Good luck getting her into another preschool this late in the year.”
As I carried Abby out the door my heart pounded. Had I overreacted? Was I doing Abby a disservice by pulling her out of her school?
The entire drive home I shifted between fury and regret. What was I going to do now? How would I get work done? Maybe the teacher was right and I was being too lenient.
I parked the car and got out to retrieve my daughter.
As I unbuckled Abby’s car seat she looked into my eyes.
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Thank you for what?”
“For getting Daddy’s hat.”
“You can give it back to him when he gets home, okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled the biggest smile, despite her red-rimmed eyes.
All she needed was a little understanding. I wasn’t much different than her, even as an adult. I certainly had my own moments when someone’s not listening to my needs would make me very upset. So why did I expect her to be more mature than me?
Chapter 6
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing together. I didn’t try to dictate, but let Abby take the lead. She wanted to be a cowboy, not a princess. She wanted to build a block tower, not do a puzzle. My little girl was full of opinions that I hadn’t been paying very much attention to lately.
When Max arrived home, I still hadn’t started dinner.
“Daddy!” Abby ran straight for him and hugged him just below the knees. “Mommy yelled!”
“Huh?” He scooped her up and looked over at me. “What happened?”
“I didn’t yell.”
“Mommy was mean!” Abby giggled.
“Hm. What did you do?” He raised an eyebrow at Abby.
“No, not me. Mommy was mean at school!”
“Huh?” Max looked over at me again. “I don’t think I understand.”
“Uh, it’s probably something we need to discuss.”
“Oh.” He locked eyes with me. “This seems like a good time to talk about it.”
“Okay.” I licked my lips. Would he agree with my decision? Would he declare that I was irrational and had spoiled Abby?
I explained the situation involving his hat and the teacher’s reaction.
He listened, with no hint of his reaction until I finally took a breath.
“She didn’t even ask her what was wrong?”
“No. She said to me herself that she didn’t ask.”
“Aw, poor Abby.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t like it when people don’t listen to me either.”
“Love you, Daddy!” She hugged him, then squirmed out of his arms. She ran through the living room as fast as she could.
I opened my mouth to tell Abby to slow down, then I didn’t. I didn’t want to push the mute button on her excitement. I wanted her to be enthusiastic and determined to run as fast as the wind.
“So?” I looked back at Max. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No, I don’t.” He rested his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “I think you love our daughter and that you did what you thought was best to protect her.”
“That sounds awfully diplomatic.”
“I don’t disagree with what you did. But would it have hurt to keep her in for a few more days while we find somewhere else to send her?”
“That’s just it, Max, I don’t think I want to send her anywhere.”
“What do you mean? You need time for writing, and she needs her education.”
“Max, if I can’t teach my daughter to read and write, if I can’t teach her simple math skills, then what was the point of my education?”
“Sammy, I’m sure you could, but you have enough on your plate as it is.”
“I don’t want other things on my plate. I want my family on my plate, Max. I want our time together to take up all the room.”
“But that’s not very realistic, is it?” He sighed and ran a hand back through his hair. “What’s for dinner, by the way?”
“There’s three meals from the restaurant we went to last night in the fridge.”
“What? We didn’t go to a restaurant last night.”
“Abby and I did—after you went to sleep.”
“How did I not know this?”
“You were still asleep when I got back.”
He opened his mouth as if he might say something more, then just shook his head. “Alright, I’ll heat something up.”
I stared after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. I didn’t feel like we’d had a real conversation about anything. How could I spend all my time concerned about so much and he barely had an opinion about it?
I leaned in the doorway and watched as he heated up a plate of food. His shoulders were slumped. His head dipped down, and he moved with the pace of a sloth. My poor husband, my best friend in the worl
d, was exhausted.
“Let me get that for you, Max.” I walked past him and patted his shoulder. “You sit down. I’ll get you something to drink.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I set his warmed food in front of him and poured him a glass of iced tea. Then I tucked Abby into her chair and gave her some food to play with. She might eat some of it too, or she might not. I sat down across from him and watched the way he pushed at his food with his fork.
“You’re not happy, are you, Max?”
“I love you, Sammy.”
“I know that. But you’re not happy like this, are you?”
He looked at me across the table and I could see the pain in his eyes. “I’m not happy if you’re not happy.”
“It’s not just that, is it? You don’t really love your job anymore, do you?”
“No.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”
“I don’t want us to be apart so much anymore. I don’t want us to be so stressed out that we’re not even interacting when we’re together. I love you, Max, nothing will ever change that, but I want us both to love our lives together too.”
“I hear what you’re saying.” He cleared his throat and pushed his plate back. “I have been thinking about it.”
“I know. It’s okay. You don’t agree. But Max, I can’t promise you that I can leave it at that. This is my life too.”
“Sammy, would you listen?” He smiled as he looked at me.
“I am listening.”
“I’ve thought about it. I’m tired of missing out on everything. I want to be part of Abby’s day, and I want more than anything to have my time with you back. I thought this job was what I wanted, that I could be fulfilled with it, but I can’t. I want us to work together, to travel together, to be a family together.”
“You do?” My eyes widened.
“Yes. I do. I don’t want to miss another minute. It may take me a few days to get things arranged at work, but I promised you when I took this job that it wouldn’t interfere with your career or our relationship. I’m ready to take the leap and start the next stage in our lives. If you’re brave enough to yank Abby right out of preschool, then I can be brave enough to walk away from this job. Go ahead and start getting things set up for the book tour.”
Toddler in Tow (Single Wide Female & Family #3) Page 2
