A Constant Audience

I was in a hurry.

I always am on Tuesdays.

Seems like the whole day passes by in a blink and what do I have to show for it?

That's the way it was this past Tuesday anyway.

It was afternoon time already. It was time for class. I was packing my purse, Ham's bag, my schoolbag. My car.

And then my husband called.

"Do you need my help?" He asked. "I'm passing by anyway. I left something I need at the house."

Truth is, I didn't need his help. I had this down to a science, and he knows that. The real reason he calls anyway is to see if he can swing by and see our son even for five minutes.

"Yeah you could help me load up everything in the car." I lied as I closed the door to the already packed car.

While we wait for him, I pace around the house with Ham on my hip. He digs his fingers into my arm, clutching for dear life as I swing through each room of the house surveying its contents.  I feel like I'm forgetting something.

My mind is in a million places at once. It's in school, it's making grocery lists, it's making dinner, and it's baby proofing the house for the tenth time this week. And now it's telling me that the diaper I just changed needs to be changed again. And it's wondering if I have time for that and if I'm going to be late for class. Again.

I'm stressed.

I hoist my baby sack of potatoes onto the diaper changing table and he looks at me like "Didn't we just do this?" And I shake my head at him as if to say "Ye, we did. And here we are again." He starts the diaper change whine, but I'm too tired and stressed to think of anything to combat it. Usually there's a least a song I could come up with or something within arm's reach he can play with. But I have nothing.

"I'm tired, Ham." I tell him. "Your mom is stressed out. You know those binders I've been working on...well one of them is due tonight."

I flip the diaper genie open, jam the diaper in and as I turned back to Hammy, I stopped.

Ham who whines his way through every diaper change decided it was time to start..... clapping for the first time.

I threw my arms in the air and I screamed. "You're clapping?!!" And because I was so proud I could have cried I started clapping with my hands high above my head. And that's when Henry stopped because, I think I probably scared him.

A few minutes later I was telling my husband how our son clapped for me. "He can clap!" I said. And try as we might he would not do it again.

"Come on Ham, show your dad. Clap. Clap. Clap." I clapped and clapped.

And my son, sniffed the air and whipped his head around defiantly. I am not a puppetshow, mom.

I shrugged my shoulders and we got in the car to leave.

"Be Careful." My husband said. "There's a lot of crazy people on the road right now."

I smiled at him. He always says that.

He headed back inside and I turned the car on and threw it in reverse. My mind that was in a million places was now tickled with excitement over the fact that our boy had learned how to clap.

I wondered if he understood what I was telling him before he clapped. Remember, how I had that huge project due?

And just as I was about to be on my way, I backed my car right smack into another car.

Yep. I backed my car into........my other car.

I gasped. I look in the rearview mirrior and then I flip around and confirmed exactly what my mirrior already told me. I hit our car. Both of them.

So I pull in the drive and I survey the damage. Then I glance back at the house. And I think about how to tell my husband. Because he's not going to be happy about this.

I jog up the steps, throw open the door, and yell real loud "Mr. Yardbird!  I  hit a car with our car! Yep. It's okay.....And um the other car just so happened to be.....well, it just so happened to be our other car! Now, Isn't that just convenient! And don't worry cause Hammy and I and the cars, we are all just fine.....So um... I'm late for school! Bye!"

And I left the scene of the crime faster and more careful then ever before.

And as I drove off....I heard it. Yep, the sound of little hands clapping in the back seat. Good job, mom. You finished up your project and you busted up both of our cars.