Teacher Work Day

Yesterday The Boy's school closed at 1:00 for a "teacher work day" and I didn't cry about it.

My equanimity rather surprised me. After all, just a week before I had experienced a bit of a breakdown when they sent him home early with a teething temperature. Two weeks before that I wondered what exactly I was paying for when he spent 10 days at home with the virus that culminated in pneumonia. That bout was preceded by a snow day, our second, after the one just a week before that capped off winter break.

In other words, by all rights I needed a work day more than the teachers.

To further stack the deck against my sanity, on Sunday we had, as a family, used my ace-in-the-hole for days when I must entertain The Boy singlehandedly -- Health Adventure. Health Adventure is a sort of poor man's Museum of Science and Industry, the Oz of kids' museums with which I grew up. Some of my earliest memories involve the incubator where you could watch chicks hatching and the tongue rug surrounded by big, white, plastic teeth where one sat to watch movies about the importance of good dental hygiene. I made the mistake of returning when I was 18 and was deeply saddened to discover my favorite quaint exhibits overrun by computer games. So goes one's youth.

Health Adventure comes from more humble origins. Apparently it began as a way of entertaining kids in a hospital. It now shares space with the Asheville Museum of Art but in a couple of years will move to a grand new location, just as The Boy is old enough to appreciate the expansion.

Right now, what he appreciates the most is the Play Room. There's nothing particularly science or health related about the Play Room, unless you spend time discussing with your toddler the benefits of eating real versions of the plastic fruits and vegetables to be found strewn amongst the more popular baby dolls and xylophones. Or maybe the point is that exercise is good for you, and the Play Room is a place where smalls kids can run and climb and do what kids naturally do but adults somehow have to coax themselves into in the hopes of squeezing another couple of years out of their life expectancy.

This was Hubby's first trip to Health Adventure. He gamely sat in the rocking chair facing the tube The Boy likes to crawl through and waited patiently. The Boy, however, has decided the best way to use the tube is to crawl almost to Daddy and then turn around and shimmy himself back up to the platform where Mommy -- more accustomed to displacing small children on the equipment where The Boy needs a little help -- waits.

It was Hubby's idea to take The Boy down the tongue slide, something he's never done before. I think I enjoyed it more than The Boy, perhaps owing to latent happy memories of teeth brushing movies.

But Hubby's greatest idea was to venture out of the Play Room to the upstairs exhibits I had never seen, since I was convinced The Boy is too young to appreciate anything more sophisticated than the plastic washer/dryer he loves so much in the Play Room.

It turns out there's lots of room to crawl upstairs in Health Adventure as well. With wide, serious eyes The Boy checked out the six-year-old Dorothy running out of a private party, her hair in blue ribbons, her feet in sparkly red slippers. He gazed hopefully at the dizzy room until I asked Hubby to take him in. (My inner ears are partial to solid ground, thanks.) He dutifully studied the fish tank until he was sick of hearing Mommy say, "Fish. Fish. Fish."

About the only thing The Boy didn't like about Health Adventure was being forced to leave the pretty pink golf ball with the physics exhibit to which it belonged. I'm sure it wouldn't have been the first time the volunteers found a colored golf ball amongst the Leggos. But one has to begin setting boundaries some time.

We ran back to the car in a gale of wind that made The Boy cry and reminded me of why I had blown Health Adventure on a Sunday afternoon instead of a Teacher Work Day.

And yet. By the time 12:30 rolled around on Monday, I was ready to pick up The Boy. I needed to do a Target run, and he enjoys shopping. It was a little bit chilly for the park, but he was happily playing in front of his school, so I figured the park would be a good back up. We would, I felt certain, gracefully fly through the six hours until Daddy got home to help with his bath.

"Doh. Doh," The Boy crowed at me as I wrapped him in my arms.

"Tree," I explained as he pointed at one. "Tree." I glanced around to see if any of his caregivers was nearby to appreciate this example of good parenting.

"Tree," one of them joined in. A moment later another told me The Boy had taken two steps on his own that day. I left feeling happy and relaxed and like this motherhood thing isn't too tough. After all, how often do you get to sit with your baby in your lap on a Monday afternoon as he drinks a warm bottle of milk and the world stops for twenty minutes?

Hmm, a clue to my equanimity. Missed it?

The world STOPPED. Even though I had a full list of to-do's upstairs. This is very big news.

By the time I woke The Boy up from a two-hour-plus nap at 4:00, it wasn't feeling all that different from a normal Monday. A quick run to Target with the aid of cookies in the car, a struggle of wills over whether The Boy got to drink juice with dinner (I scored a hollow victory that left The Boy refusing to eat much of anything and me wondering if 13 months is really the age at which to train a child to appreciate plain water), and before I knew it Hubby was walking through the door and I hadn't even drawn the bath yet.

I'm still marveling at how effortlessly I accommodated a half-day of school. Could it be the acupuncture? Sure does help. The wonders of a few therapy sessions? My brain is feeling less scrambled these days.

Or maybe those aids merely helped me relax enough to discover the pleasure of a little boy on the verge of walking, talking, and otherwise bringing his mother all sorts of joyful moments.

Now that I'm slowing down enough to be in them.