Less of Me

I head into the extended care room at Ari’s school to pick her up and as I do, I pass one of the teachers. “There’s less of you here,” she says to me. I pause, unsure of how to respond. Yes, I spent all last year beating myself up over the fact that I wasn’t able to be at the school as much for Ari as I was able to do for Max when he was three. When he was three, she was just an infant – I had no other place to be. But when she was three, Max started kindergarten – at another school. I was always dropping her off late or picking her up from extended care. I didn’t really get a chance to know her classmates or hang with the moms or set up playdates the way I was able to for Max. I felt she was getting the short end of the stick and I hated it. I didn’t want the same thing to happen now that she was four and starting a new school year. But today was only Ari’s second day of school – there haven’t been enough school days to say I’ve been around less. And then, the moment of clarification:

“There’s less of Tracey, too,” she said, referring to the extended care teacher who had lost weight over the summer. Ohhhh. She noticed that I had also lost some weight.

I wonder if I’m the only guilt-ridden, overextended, mushy mommy brain mother to interpret a compliment as a reprimand.