Field Trips

“Mom, can you chaperone the field trip?”

I adjusted my mirror to see the eagerness and excitement spread across my 10-year-olds face as he buckled his seatbelt.

I refocused on the car in front of me, ready to hit the gas and get home for my next meeting starting in 7 minutes. “I saw the email today. I’ll have to check my schedule.”

I winced at my own lie. The truth was I already knew I couldn’t. As soon as the email had come in, I checked my schedule, only to be disappointed to see a block for a long-planned workshop during the time of his field trip.

I felt the vibe in the car shift, and I didn’t need to look back in the mirror to know the expression on my son’s face. I knew his every reaction by heart.

As my 7-year-old happily chattered away about his day and I nodded my head with interest, my 10-year-old sat in silence.

By the time we got home, the car seeped with tension.

My older son sat there as his brother got out, barely moving a muscle.

“I know you can’t do it. You never can,” he blurted out, anger and disappointment filling every word.

I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel as the car door opened and slammed shut. I watched as he sulked up the stairs into the house, head drooped and feet shuffling.

I know I don’t have many more chances when he’ll actually want me around. The days of him excitedly introducing me to his friends and smiling every time our eyes meet are disappearing right in front of me.

Soon I won’t even know about field trips unless the school tells me. In fact, I’ll know barely anything about this school life and he’ll do everything he can to actively hide it from me.

But even knowing this reality is approaching at an ever increasing speed doesn’t change the constraints I have to contort myself around on a daily basis.

I let the familiar guilt that travels with me emerge from the deepest recesses of my body. It’s a partner in this journey as a working mom, the necessary sacrifice of coexistence.

I feel the tears welling up just beneath my eyelids, but as if on cue my phone buzzes to remind me of the meeting that’s just starting.

I gather myself and open the door. No time for traveling our familiar path today, self-condemnation. Another meeting is about to begin…..