At the end of the work day, most people are pleased as punch to get the hell out of dodge. To go to happy hour for “a quick one”, or to head to the gym to help keep their unobtainable size 00 figures. Me? I dread the end of the work day. And not because I love my job (I really do enjoy it, sort of…) but I dread the pick up at daycare. Here is why.

Immediately I am greeted by my 2-yr-old; the happiest little koala bear, hugging me around the neck so tight I nearly pass out, and my 5-year-old, squealing about the design she just created with sidewalk chalk all while bolting to the car faster than Jimmy Johns can make me a Beach Club. Don’t misunderstand me. I love LOVE this part. But it’s when we get in the car that all hell breaks loose.

The entire 10 minute drive to my far from tranquil home is filled with the “I-want-candy-I-am-thirsty-it’s-too-hot-in-here-I-can’t-even-breathe-my-sister-touched-my-leg-where’s-my-baby-and-blankie-Mom-can-I-get-a-gerbil-when-my-fish-is-dead-I-am-starving” diarrhea of the mouths that sends me in a downward spiral.

Inevitably the girls demand (and eventually help themselves) to a bowl of Cocoa Puffs before I can even turn the car off. They want a show. They want some water. And it’s really hard to manage all of that while I am changing into yoga pants and uncorking a bottle of wine…

But, I deal with it. Because someday I know that they aren’t going to be under my feet while I try to dice and chop the dinner. And that day is going to be freaking great. And so terribly sad all at the same time. Until then, I will defer to my Pinot and pray that there is never a shortage of Cocoa Puffs.

-H