Of Cinco de Mayo, an iPad and Mothering…

Friday afternoon I felt as if I would crack. Each one of my children, ages, 11-years-old to 23 years needed me for emotional support as they struggled to attain their goals. My eldest was working hard on a paper search for a 15-page graduate research paper she must write.

Our 11th grader needed guidance on how to organize her study and tutoring sessions for her Chemistry and Algebra finals along with preparing an outline for her 3rd and thankfully, last term paper. And our youngest, having been home for the holiday in observance of honoring Cinco de Mayo, simply wanted to go out.

Having had a strenuous week of trying to play catch-up on my writing–I had spent last weekend helping our middle edit the first two term papers 12-15 pages each–I was scoured with fatigue.

Dinner with my husband at our favorite restaurant down by the water in Berkeley would have been a godsend.

To do that would mean leaving our elder children two home with our youngest. Like our youngest, the two elder siblings wanted a break before settling down to accomplish their tasks. And who could blame them. They’re good kids.

They have no desire to obtain their driver license to drive. “It’s too dangerous out there. You could kill someone and yourself too,” is their mantra. I couldn’t agree more.

Driving in California’s urban areas is not for the faint of heart nor the young and inexperienced.

Part and parcel to that means that part of my job as stay-at-home wife and mother also includes running a livery service if public transportation doesn’t reach where our children want to go.

This mall where they wanted to go, though quite safe, is not easily accessible by bus or subway.

As everyone’s needs and desires reached a quite, but substantive crescendo, my need to get away and have a few moments with my husband escalated.

As always when arriving home, he came to me. “How are you?” he said.

“I could cry. But I’m so tired I can’t.”

He left the study where I had been working, where I always work here at the computer typing. I’m a writer, an author.

“Wow! That’s really supportive.” I thought as he trailed through the doorway. So taken aback by his exit I did not notice him returning downstairs to the garage.

Like the strong woman I try to be, I returned to my writing.

Better get in as many words as possible before one of the kids returns with yet another worry, concern, or feeling greater angst in not having edged closer to achieving their goal.

On his return my husband approached the desk to which I was sitting, where I am now as I write, his hand outstretched and holding a white bag holding what seemed a box. “I was going to give this to you on Sunday. But since you’re having such a bad day, maybe this will cheer you.” Cautiously he smiled.

I laid the box in my lap upon removing it from the bag. Inside the box within the bag is an iPad. I burst into tears.

I have yet to open the box. I’ve been to busy.

Yesterday we attended a college fair gathering information for our middle who will become a high school senior upon completing final exams in three weeks.

School closes for the summer on May 27, 2010. The heat is on.

Our youngest has a science project due on May 17, 2010. Our eldest is scheduled to leave May 24, 2010 for an internship in Europe.

My novel, The House, is now ready for publication. I just need to send it to the printer.

I also need to open the box containing my iPad and synchronize it with my desktop computer.

For now, and until I have the time to do so, and actually forever, the gesture of my husband not only having purchased it but offering it to me when I felt most lost and despairing, feeling like a mother less child, will warm my heart and soul.

For all those who have chosen motherhood as a path in this life, I hope and pray you had a wonderful Mother’s Day–that you received a little bit of what we give each day–love and mothering.