Don't Tell the Boss

My daughter was thrilled when she came home from school a couple of weeks ago.

"You're coming on my field trip to the museum!!" she said.

"Oh... yeah," I said. 

Oh, yeah.

Don't get me wrong... I really do want to chaperone field trips.  But this was one of those deals I had signed up for at the beginning of the school year when I was fresh off maternity leave... rested and ready to take on the world.

Six months back on the job and into the school year, well frankly, I just not nearly as peppy.   Especially when the field trip was slated to end at 2 p.m., and I had to be on set anchoring at 3 p.m.

Knowing this, Ashley's teacher was ready to let me off the hook. 

God bless these teachers who get the whole 'I'm-a-working-parent-just-trying-to-make-sure-my-child-doesn't-resent-me-but-dang-I'm-exhausted" thing.  

But I told her I absolutely wanted to go... so she let me drive my own car.

We all arrived at the museum at 9 o'clock that morning.  By about 9:45 some of the seven-year-olds started getting bored.  At around 10:30 one parent turned to me and said, "I can't take it... I just can't take the complaining anymore!!!"

Really?  Ever been to a newsroom just before deadline? 

The rest of the day was basically a blur of "I'm hungry!" and "I'm tired!" and "Can we head upstairs to see the mummy again?"

Five hours later, I was exhausted... and just about two hours out from the start of my work day.

But when I kissed my daughter and put her and her friends on the bus back to school, I felt wonderfully gratified.  Because career or not, my children come first.

I'll go on the next field trip, and many more after that.

Because if you miss these days... you'll never get them back.

Ever try getting ready for work with a rambunctious nine-month-old teetering around?  That's the challenge I face now that my baby Noah is crawling/pulling himself up/getting into everything!

My husband and seven-year-old daughter are usually long gone by the time I have to start pulling myself together, so there's no extra hands around.  I usually try and put Noah in the exersaucer in my bedroom while I watch him from the master bath.  But he's getting to the point where that thing bores him... he'd rather be out, exploring.

Not good for mommy, because looking good is a crucial part of my job.  If I don't have time to flat-iron out the kinks or slap some makeup on, viewers just might call the station complaining that I look like a bag lady.

(No joke.  That actually happens.  Can you imagine?)

But recently on one of my days off, I made a wonderful discovery!  I was watching an episode of Sesame Street with my son, and he sat there, absolutely riveted.  I put him in his exersaucer, and he couldn't take his eyes of Elmo.

So now, I can put him in his exersaucer and play a DVR'd episode and he'll just sit there until Mommy finishes up with her primping.  In fact, I sometimes think I may be actually bothering him if I try talking to him while Sesame Street is on.

So here's to Sesame Street!  I loved it myself as a kid.  My older kid loved it.  And now my baby is officially on board.

God bless the people who work behind the scenes there, and the work they do! 

This was a discussion that I thought was years away. 

But yesterday, I decided to talk to my seven-year-old daughter about drugs. 

The reason? An image that has been seared into my conciousness: Madison Kiefer's family mourning her at her funeral. 

Her father's incredibly touching and honest eulogy.  Watching him and the rest of his children escort their Madison's coffin out of the church to her final resting place.  I don't know Madison Kiefer's father, but I'll be he's an incredible dad.  What happened to his daughter was not his fault.  Sometimes in life, all you can do is equip your child with information, and pray that God protects them as they make their way into the world.

So I decided to talk to my seven-year-old about drugs.  She wandered into my bathroom as I was getting ready for work on Saturday, like she usually does.  She was babbling on about something when I cut her off mid-sentence.

"Ashley," I said.  "Mommy read a news story about a young girl who died of drugs.  Bad drugs that bad people gave her.  If anyone ever offers you a pill or anything else that they say will make you feel good, tell them no, and tell Mommy or Daddy.  O.k.?"

"O.k.," she said.

"Never take any drugs from strangers.  Never take any drugs from your friends.  If  they offer you drugs, they're not your friends."

"O.k.," she said.

I guess the conversation was a little more heavy than she bargained for, so she kind of slinked out of the bathroom right about then to do something else.

That's o.k.  We'll be having plenty more conversations like this one.  Many, many more.

As much as we would all like to, there is no way to bring Madison Kiefer back to this world, back to her family. 

But though her death, I for one have become emboldened about talking to my own child about drugs.  And I'm sure there are many more parents in our area doing the same thing. 

And if there's something I know for sure in this world, it's that the Madison Kiefer story will resonate with someone's child, and save someone's life.

So through the pain of telling her story, the one thing we can take comfort in is knowing that Madison Kiefer's life was not in vain.