Tabitha
After a lovely, drama-free weekend together, I drop the kids off at school Monday morning and return home to start on my work. Lex is home for the day. He doesn’t have to report in for duty until tomorrow, which means we get to spend the entire day together. Ideally, I’d take the day off of work, too, but I don’t have that luxury. Not right now.
Things are busy in the world of social media, and that includes freelancing. Even though I can schedule most of my posts, so I don’t have to be online all of the time, I still have a couple of graphics to design and some announcements to write. My clients count on me to keep on top of things and so far, I haven’t let them down.
Even though I’d really, really like to take the day off, work does have to come first sometimes. Unfortunately, this is one of those times. Lex understands, though, and is super supportive. He rubs my back and sits next to me while I plan things out. He talks to me about his time away and we make plans to go to Anchored together. All in all, it’s a lovely, relaxing morning.
Until Piper’s school calls.
I do not want to pick up the phone. There is no part of me that is ready to face Miss Bradshaw or Mrs. Brown. There is no part of me that wants to deal with the fact that my kid has massive behavioral issues. There is no part of me that wants to accept this.
And I don’t want to tell Lex.
I probably should have brought it up to him while he was gone. He could have handled it. He could have accepted that sometimes, things don’t always go the way we plan and it’s important to be flexible, but I didn’t give him the chance. Something tells me that once he knows, that’s what he’s going to be most upset about. He’s going to think I didn’t trust him.
“Are you going to get that?” He asks after a minute, and I pick up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Baker?”
“This is she,” I say.
“This is Principal Bradshaw from Piper’s school.” Principal Bradshaw. Usually I just call her “Miss Bradshaw” or even “Allison.” The fact that she’s using the title “Principal” tells me something bad has happened.
“Yes, Principal Bradshaw. What can I help you with?”
“Piper got in another fight,” her voice softens. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to come down to the school.”
“All right,” I say, defeated.
“And Mrs. Baker?”
“Yes?”
“This is the last time this can happen. You understand.”
“I understand.”
I hang up the phone. My heart and hopes sink as I look at Lex, who is watching me with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Piper,” I say, closing out my work browsers and files. I close my laptop and grab my purse. Then head for the door. “I have to go pick her up. There’s a problem at school.”
Even as I say the words, I know they aren’t going to be enough for Lex. Not this time. His eyebrows raise as he waits for me to elaborate on what’s going on, and I know I have to tell him. I don’t want to because I feel like Piper’s problems reflect on me as a mother. I feel like having a kid who gets in fights is the epitome of bad parenting, and I don’t want to admit that I’m a bad mother.
I don’t want to admit that I’ve screwed up.
I don’t want to admit that I’ve failed my daughter.
“She’s been getting in fights,” I say, and that’s when the tears start. Instantly, Lex is at my side with his arms wrapped around me.
“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?”
“A little while,” I admit. “But this is it for her. This is the last time or she’s going to be expelled.”
“Really?” He looks surprised. “It’s that bad? What has she been doing? Have you talked to her?”
I nod. “We’ve talked about it, but she always says it’s not her fault or it’s because she’s upset about you being gone. That’s part of why I didn’t tell you,” I explain. “I didn’t want you to feel guilt.”
“Um, baby, she’s a little kid. I would not feel guilty because my child is upset with me. I didn’t want to be deployed, didn’t ask to be deployed, and wouldn’t choose again to be deployed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to feel guilty about it.”
“Really? You haven’t felt any guilt?”
“A little,” he admits. He sighs. “I shouldn’t feel bad, and I talk a big game, but you’re right. I probably would have felt responsible if you’d told me.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you what happened. There was nothing you could do from a million miles away, honey. Nothing. Hell, I’m right here and I still feel responsible.” Lex releases me and I turn to leave. He follows me outside and waits patiently as I lock up the house. Then we get in my car and I start driving to the school.
“What do you think we should do?” He asks. “I’m back now. Things should resolve themselves naturally.”
“I think her principal is really sensitive to the needs of military kids,” I tell him. “She understands, but she still can’t have a kid in school who is hitting people or being mean. That’s not a safe learning environment.”
“Maybe we can go to family counseling.”
“Really? You’d do that?”
“For you and the kids? Tabitha, I’d do anything.”
Counseling.
It might work.
It couldn’t hurt, right? To be honest, even though Lex and I talked a lot over the weekend, we still have a long way to go. Everything that’s happening between us is so new, but so familiar at the same time. It’s easy to slip back into old patterns of comfort and familiarity. It’s easy to remember how he used to make me feel and how I used to behave around him.
The problem is that those behaviors led to our relationship’s ultimate demise and I want to avoid that happening again. If I want this thing with Lex to work, things have to change, and that means I have to change myself.
I have to be better, brighter. I have to be stronger and braver. I have to stand up for myself and for my kids, but I also have to be soft when it’s necessary. I have to be willing to bend with I need to. I have to be able to follow his lead.
But as I glance over at Lex on the drive to the school, I realize that this time, things are already different. They’re already looking up. They’re already brighter because this time, Lex is by my side and I know he’s not going anywhere.