At my son's school today Ember had one of her many, in a day, meltdowns. I can say one thing for her and that is that she is consistent. There are certain times and situations that I know will ultimately result in an all out limp bodied, writhing, crying, snotty, screaming, gagging on her own phlegm little girl. The time is ALWAYS between 3 and 4 pm and the situations are anything that involves playing with children she doesn't know well or being hurt in the most infinitesimal way. She puts on performances that far surpass any Hollywood actor to date. She can convince almost anyone that something is broken, going to fall off, or needs immediate medical attention...that is, anyone but me. I have gotten good at responding to these scenarios and help her with her yogic breathing and calming imagery in these times of crisis. BUT, even the best mother has her breaking points.

Today when we picked my son up at, well, you may have guessed, Three o' clock, she was doing pretty well. I had myself convinced that, perhaps, those dreadful days of dragging my child out of the school yard red faced and on the verge of tears were over. She was running and tagging children when THEY wanted her to, as opposed to her old routine of barking at everyone like a dog and gnawing at their ankles in between eating mouthfuls of dirty brown snow. This 3 pm pickup has been the bane of my existence since Ember became a toddler. I always grab my son by his shirt collar, close my eyes, run like hell through the crowd of parents, and dive into my car getaway style through my window before the ticking time bomb explodes. As soon as my wheels hit pavement Ember is fast asleep. Whew!

So, back to today. She's playing tag and I'm actually chatting it up with parents, REAL LIVE conversations peppered with adult humor and sarcasm in a voice other than that of a cheery Mary Poppins or a gestapo. It was sheer heaven for about 5 minutes when, of course, another child grabbed her around the neck. She went down immediately in a fit of rage and woe. She was holding her throat as if someone had just putted a golf ball down her esophagus and her face was a bright crimson. I talked her through it explaining that sometimes children get hurt when they play and she should tell the little boy he hurt her. She was rendered mute by the pain and the veins in her neck throbbed and pulsed due to the lack of oxygen. She blinked back crocodile tears while the little boy stood there, unsure of what to do. I felt so sorry for his mom who kept telling him to apologize. I didn't want to discount my daughter's feelings but I also didn't want to jump on my board and surf this wave. I did deep breathing and held her hand, thinking that one day it will be nice to join her on stage and hold her hand when she accepts her Oscar. "Uh, anyone, have any chalk," I said with nervous laughter.

We got past this small hurtle and moved on to the soccer fields where my son was enjoying a game of monkey in the middle. This concept is no good for a four year old who sees it as a cruel game. This set Ember into another limp marionette mode until finally she was nothing more than a puddle on the ground. I figured it was definitely time to leave. I picked up the baby and announced that it was time for a race back to the car. "AND..." I say boldly, "whoever beats me to the car gets a treat when we get home." Who isn't motivated by the promise of a treat? Apparently a four year old with the tasmanian devil shoved up her ass! She made it to the car crying the entire way, shouting how she didn't like it one bit. Then she surveyed her surroundings to see where the best scenery was for her next performance. She spotted a moist area of turd brown mud and threw herself upon it like an earthworm having a seizure. I calmly motioned for Nova to get in the van. I walked around to the other side and buckled the baby into her carseat. Then I walked in calculated steps, slowly and intentionally, to the spot where she lay, now, still with exhaustion. I picked her up and whispered in my calmest angry voice, "you get your butt up now and GET. IN. THE. VAN." I pulled her up trying not to squeeze her like a python around its prey. I put her hoodie over her booster seat, mud side up, and sat her ever so gently in her seat and buckled her in as she coughed, choked and gasped for air in a panic. I drove off without saying another word. When we were getting close to home Ember broke the silence.

"Mom, you don't wuv me anymore."

Good God, child, you're still alive!