It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time

This morning I dropped my son off at pre-preschool.  It’s also known as a Parents Day Out program, or as his teacher calls it, preschool prep.  It’s the one day a week I actually have some time off.  It’s a decadence that I’m thankful we’ve been able to afford.  On most nights my husband goes from work to the hospital to see his dad, or from work to the house that we’re almost done renovating for my mom.  Those days are terribly long days and so one day a week I treat myself to a day off.  Now this is kind of laughable, because a.) those of you who have more than one kid are sneering in my direction right now and b.) any mom knows there are technically no such things as a day off.  I have a house to clean. I have another house to renovate.  I have to use this day to go to the grocery store since my son doesn’t want to sit still in the cart anymore.  I have to use this day to do any type of upkeep on myself, i.e. dying my hair, doing my nails, washing my face…(Just kidding on that last one.  I still wash my face and brush my teeth.  Most of the time.)  Lately I’ve been going to check on my mom and sometimes I’ll run up to the hospital to see my father in law.  It’s amazing how quickly six hours of free time just flies.

This morning as I was taking my son inside of the school I noticed a giant NO PEANUT ZONE poster.  I was already doing the walk of shame since my son had “borrowed” some fake money from the class that I found in his pocket last week.  I returned the coins to the teacher this morning and laughed.  “He puts money in his pocket at home, I guess he thought the same rules applied here.”  We laughed.  Then I noticed another one.  A giant NO PEANUT ZONE poster on the wall in his classroom.  I didn’t see it there before.  I swear, it was not there before.  And do you know who’s fault it is that it’s there now?  One guess.

As I said earlier, the days that I have off are priceless.  My son has to be at school at 9 o'clock and it’s just so very hard to get us both ready to leave the house by then.  I only have one kid, I can’t imagine what life must be like for a friend of mine who has six.  Getting everyone dressed and lunches ready, seriously, I think she must be superwoman.  I started this particular morning out by cleaning poop off the floor since my cat has anxiety.  Then I got my son out of bed and I realized the kitty wasn’t the only one who had pooped all over the place, so into the bath he went.  After his bath I looked around for some breakfast.  Since Wednesday was my grocery shopping day and since we had run out of the quick breakfast standards of Nutrigrain bars, instant oatmeal and Cheerios all at once, I asked my son what he wanted for breakfast.  When we decided that a piece of cheese was an acceptable alternative, I gave him a piece of cheese.  Then I took a few extra minutes to doll myself up, since I don’t want to be known as “that homeless looking woman” at my son’s school.  With a few minutes left, I started making his regular lunch of cheese sandwich, but then I remembered that cheese for breakfast and lunch may cause some discomfort in my poor baby, so I gave my husband the cheese sandwich and made my son, out of sheer habit, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Off to school we went.

The rest of the day was greatly productive.  After dropping off my son, I swung by the grocery store.  After going to the grocery store, I ran to my mom’s to check on her and then over to the house we’re renovating to drop a few things off.  I ran to Walgreens and picked up some much needed hair dye and spent an hour dying my hair.  I looked pretty great afterwards if I do say so myself.  I changed my clothes, had an hour to read this month’s book club selection and then ran off to get my son.

As soon as I walked in to his classroom one of the teachers pulled me aside.

“Uh, did you pack a peanut butter sandwich in your son’s lunch today?”

The words stopped me dead in my tracks.  She knows I did.  My stomach sank.  My mind flashed immediately to the handbook.  The countless flyers they send home.  The sign at the front of the school that says NO PEANUT ZONE.  I kicked into apology mode.  After about the fifth "I’m sorry," his other teacher noticed that perhaps I’d mistaken the first teacher’s tone to be a bit abrasive, so she chimed in “It’s really okay.  We recognized it right away.  He had some cheese crackers.  It’s fine.”

But the other one kept going. 

“Yeah cause we have a kid who’s really allergic to peanuts.  Even if it’s air born it could send him into….”

Anaphylactic shock.  After apologizing profusely, promising to never do it again, I picked up my child and practically ran out of there.  When I looked down at his progress of the day sheet, it said in bright bold letters “PLEASE DO NOT PACK PEANUT PRODUCTS IN YOUR CHILD'S LUNCH.”  You know, I’m pretty sure I would’ve been properly shamed if they’d have just sky written over the building “CARRIE IS THE WORST MOM EVER.  SHE WANTS TO KILL YOUR CHILD.”

I don’t want to kill your child.  I promise.  I just, and please don’t take offense to this, I just don’t care about your child.  I’m trying to do a million things at once, and since my son doesn’t have allergies, it never occurs to me that other kids do.  My nephew has an allergy to tree nuts, and so every time there’s an event my poor sister in law has to inspect all of his food.  I feel her pain and thank God I don’t have to do that.  I’ve never worked in a day care or preschool.  I’ve never had a babysitting job.  I’ve never sent a kid to school before this one.  I had no idea allergies were so fierce.  I have enough on my plate worrying about my son and now I have to worry about yours.  Parenting is so…hard.  Right?

I’m sorry if your child has a food allergy.  It must suck big time for you. And once again, I am not trying to kill your child.  I just honestly forgot.  I just forgot that peanuts kill.

My conclusion in all of this is that I shouldn’t be so good at multitasking.  Ok, from this story, I’m clearly not all that great at multitasking, but it’s something I can’t help but try to take on.  It’s a curse.  In my old job, I was a Master of Efficiency (self titled).  If you gave me a to-do list I’d obliterate it in record time.  My husband takes twenty minutes to shower.  I am not kidding.  I don’t know what the heck he’s doing in there but it takes him twenty minutes to do it.  I shower in five minutes.  Time me.  I have a routine to maximize my time in there.  My sister used to brush her teeth in the shower to save time but that’s where I draw the line.  If it is my job to be all these things: mommy, wifey, responsible and caring daughter and daughter in law, I am going to make a list to get things done.  I am going to get things done.  Or I am going to die trying.

I think the gene for multitasking comes from the X chromosome.  My brain never stops.  I am always thinking about what’s next on my list today, who needs help, what’s going on.  As women, we expect ourselves to be able to do so much.  I would like to be able to focus on just one thing at a time, like men do.  I would like to try those pills they give to adults now that they used to only give to kids that help you focus and bonus, help you to lose a little weight at the same time.  I bet if I told them everything I’ve told you, they would probably give them to me.

No, they’d probably tell me first to “Calm down m’am. And step away from the peanut butter…”