Feeling completely emotionally drained she lays down on the couch. She falls asleep within a matter of minutes. An hour later she is awakened to the sound of her phone. She opens her eyes, and rolls towards the coffee table. She grabs the phone, and unlocks the screen. The high pitched alarm screams at her. The attached memo reminds her what time it is. She vacates her seat on the couch, and grabs her car keys.
She makes it to her predetermined destination just in time. She enters the building, and finds a hoard of toddlers packing their belongings into tiny backpacks. She maneuvers through the sea of parents and children. She finds her daughter sitting on a bench holding her backpack, waiting on her. She lights up when she sees her. She jumps off the bench, and runs towards her. She attaches herself to her mother's leg like a tick.
"Are you ready to go home?"
"Yep."
Mac slips the pink princess backpack from Izzy's hands. She leads Izzy through the crowd to the exit. She holds tightly to her hand as they walk through the parking lot to the car. Mac unlocks the car door, and tosses the bag into the backseat. She assists Izzy into her car seat. She secures the toddler in a five point restraint. She kisses Izzy's forehead. Izzy gives her a questioning look.
"Is something wrong, little miss?" Sarah questions.
Izzy doesn't say anything, she just stares at her. Mac looks down. She sees what Izzy's looking at.
"I'm not wearing my uniform," she realizes.
"Why?"
"Why are you wearing your polka dot dress again?"
Izzy pouts, "Mommy!"
"Watch your fingers," she responds stepping back to close the door.
When they get home Izzy crawls onto the couch, and grabs the remote control. Mac enters the living room, and finds the toddler flipping through the channels. She positions herself between the couch, and the TV.
"Mommy! Move!"
Mac gives her a disapproving look, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Look, mommy," she points at the TV.
She doesn't move. She remains with her back to the TV. "No Dora tonight."
"Mommy!" Izzy remarks, obviously appalled.
"You have to pick up your toys first," Sarah reminds her.
"No!"
"Would you like to go sit in time out?"
"Dora, please," she begs.
Mac turns towards the pile of toys strewn across the living room floor. She shakes her head.
"No. You dumped your entire toy box out this morning. You need to pick them up."
"No!"
Mac extends her hand, "Give me the remote Izzy."
She furrows her brow, "No."
"Now!" She finds herself in a battle of wills with the two year old.
Izzy holds the remote over her head.
"Don't you dare, missy," Mac warns.
She throws the remote. She folds her arms across her chest in defiance. Her facial expression immediately changes as she notices Mac's facial expression. She looks up at Sarah.
"Sorry."
Mac scoops the toddler up off her seat on the couch. She carries her over to the stairs. She sits her on the second stair, and squats beside her.
"You're going to sit here because you didn't listen."
Izzy doesn't argue. Mac heads into the kitchen and sets the timer. She leans against the counter, wondering where she's gone so wrong. She decides not to jump on that train of thought. She heads into the pantry and tries to locate something for dinner. She grabs a box of macaroni and cheese, already feeling completely defeated.
She closes the pantry door, and lowers herself to the floor. She leans against the door. She swallows hard trying to keep the tears at bay. What am I doing? Where did I go so wrong? She asks herself. I am doing a terrible job. She's two, and I can't convince her to listen to me. How am I going to convince her when she's a teenager? She looks at the box of macaroni and cheese in her lap. She's still wearing a pair of sweat pants, and a hoodie. She can only imagine how she must look to her daughter.
Izzy is used to seeing her in uniform. What a cop out. Sweatpants, and instant macaroni and cheese for dinner. She had vowed to hold herself to higher standards as a parent.
"I'm a failure," she admits, aloud. She hears the timer on the microwave beeping. She leans her head against the door. Part of her wants to stay in the pantry and hide. She sits there for another moment, wondering how long it will take Izzy to notice that she's gone. Her answer comes quicker than she expected.
"Mommy!" Izzy screams from the other room.
She grabs the box of macaroni, and cheese, and vacates her seat on the floor. She opens the door, and exits the pantry. She places the box on the kitchen counter, next to the stove. The microwave timer continues to blare.
"Mommy!" Izzy shrieks as Mac attempts to turn the timer off.
"Mommy! I'm sorry! Mommy?"
She rounds the corner, and finds Izzy sitting on the stairs near tears. She takes a seat next to her.
"Mommy," she sniffles.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," she apologizes.
"You look like you're about to cry," Mac comments.
Izzy doesn't say anything. She proceeds to wrap her arms around Mac's neck. She clings to her tightly. Sarah kisses her cheek.
"It's okay. I'm right here," Sarah reassures her. She lets go of her. Isabella scoots off her lap. She stands up, and follows Mac into the kitchen.
"Izzy I need you to go in the living room and pick up your toys so I can get dinner ready."
She finds the two year old attached to her leg once again. She squats down next to her.
"Izzy, I'll be right here."
She reluctantly lets go, and leaves the room. The pasta is nearly done, and Mac realizes that it is eerily quiet.
"Izzy what are you doing in there?"
Izzy doesn't answer her. She heads over to the sink, and strains the pasta. She returns the pasta to the sauce pan, and pours in the rest of the ingredients. Once she's certain that they're mixed she turns the burner off, and covers the pan with a lid. She wipes her hands on a dishtowel, and makes a beeline for the living room. She finds Izzy sitting on the floor in a pile of toys.
"What are you doing?"
"Playing," Izzy answers.
"You are supposed to be picking up," Sarah reminds her.
Izzy leaps off the ground, and races over to her. She holds out her baby doll.
"I'll hold onto her while you pick up the rest."
"Mommy!"
Sarah surveys the pile. It is pretty clear to her what has happened. Halfway through returning the pile to the toy box Izzy stumbled upon her doll, and efforts ceased. She exhales, and chooses to relent.
"Dinner is ready. You can pick up the rest of them later."