Friday meltdown

So, Rachel Jones spent much of Friday working and sleeping -- this cold snap is awful and it's hard to motivate oneself to go outside -- and I had a bunch of interviews I had to do, plus I wanted to grab a swim (it's too cold to walk to work) before I read to Rachel's class as part of the "Mystery Reader" program every Friday that parents volunteer for.

Anyway...I got to the class a little early and waited outside. When I came in, Rachel said, "I KNEW it was you!" and when I said, "How did you know?" she said, "You told me you had signed up for January, and I saw your black coat at the bottom of the window." As I told her teacher, Mrs. McAdam, there is no hiding ANYTHING from this kid.

I read "Rikki-tikki-Tavi," which I explained was a favorite of Rachel's aunt, Tia Daniella, ("Tia means aunt," Rachel explained to the class), and when some of the kids got restless and began talking, I just ignored them and plodded on, with different voices for the different characters. (Rachel selected a simpler version of the story from a stack of books in the classroom to show the kids what a mongoose looked like -- there were illustrations in my version, but the classroom book was better). The story slopped over into the end-of-school bell, so I quickly amended the ending and got ready to leave, which is when Rachel got very upset.

She begged me to take her home early, complained that she didn't want to go to extended day, and started howling and sobbing, to the point where I took her into my lap and kept asking her what was the matter, and she just kept saying that she wanted to be a "walker" and walk home from school. I tried to tell her that I couldn't do that, that I have to work at night and Daddy couldn't pick her up before 6, but she simply wouldn't be comforted. I finally had to push her off my lap and say, sternly, "Stop being dramatic, Rachel," as she gathered her papers and her backpack, still sobbing and wiping away her tears, and making her way to extended day. Feeling guilty as hell and very sad, I hopped into the car and drove home because Rachel Jones and I had a 5:30 reservation for Le Diplomate, a really great restaurant in D.C. that I had been dying to try for months. She got very dressed up, and I threw on a fancy dress and jewelry; we drove to the Metro and just made it in time. In a cab from the Metro to the restaurant, we heard an ad promoting my Sunday Post magazine cover story, which was a thrill for both of us, and we ended up having a lovely dinner with several cocktails, after which we dialed a former colleague of ours in St. Pete, Fla., just to say hello (we hadn't talked to her in 20 years; we ended up talking to her on Sunday and I told her how much her encouraging words had meant to me as a young, insecure reporter in my 20s. Glad I got to start the new year off with that message).

When we got home at the ridiculously early hour of 8:30, I ended up putting Rachel to bed and we had a long talk (she chose to talk instead of having me read her a book), and she really unloaded about how she misses me, and how she wished I could be home when school was over so she could walk home from school. I tried to explain that I had tried to get a job that had day hours but it didn't work, and that when you work for someone, you have to work the hours and days that they want you to. "You could start your OWN business, Mommy!" she said. "You could open a store! Daddy and I could help you!" "Well, sweetie," I said, "Opening a store costs money. You have to buy or rent a building, and pay to put stuff in it before you're able to sell it to people, and you have to pay people to work for you." She was unmoved and largely inconsolable -- even after I told her that working nights allows me to come into school during the days and do cool stuff like read and go on field trips. We left it as me saying I would talk to the folks at work and see what I could do, but I don't think I'll be able to switch to days anytime soon.

Drew later pointed out to me that his dad, who, in fact, did work in a store, worked late on Thursdays and all day Saturdays, so that's not necessarily the best solution, either. Wish I had thought of telling that to Rachel during our talk.