Lions and Tigers and Bears and Mothers

I tend to get mean every Sunday at 5:00 pm.

It seems to come as a surprise every damn weekend that I have put off laundry, floor mopping, vacuuming, etc. until that time. It's not like I really put them off....but it's just that is is never finished. Although I might clean the kitchen 6 times throughout the span of a weekend, it is inevitably a mess at 5:00 pm on Sunday.

And then I start nagging the girls.

"Why don't you guys ever voluntarily help me?"

"Why do I always have to ask you to pick up your dirty clothes?"

"Have you practiced the piano?"

"Have you done your homework?"

"I let you play ALL weekend, don't you dare give me any lip about helping me now!"

It is all true. I have valid points. But it is only valid if I try something different to change the outcome of my weekend, and I haven't. I am usually very good about putting things in perspective - realizing that they have never done this thing called "growing up" before and I am there to help them through. But...on Sunday nights I wish they just already knew how.

After putting them to bed last night I felt awful. I went back in when they were sleeping to whisper apologies and smell their hair. And I went to bed a guilt-laden mother. The guilt manifested itself into a terrible dream that still has me on the verge of tears.

I was on the ranch in Montana, standing at the edge of the field. My Dad walked up to the girls and me and told me that a mountain lion was trying to kill all of the baby calves. I looked out over the field of grazing cattle to see them morph into mothers and children.

Then I saw the mountain lion. But it was actually a female African lion - and it was slipping up to the kids that were far away in the field. The panic hit me and I turned to tell the girls to get back to the house. That's when a huge male lion jumped on Sophie and grabbed her in his mouth. She was screaming, "Mom! The pain!" and there was nothing that I could do.

Holy crap.

I went into her room and after checking her for marks and evidence of breathing, lay down on the floor of her room to pass the rest of the night in fitful sleep.