My patience has been far too short lately. Is this what it's always like, raising an almost-four-year-old? When does the LISTENING start? When will my child actually take in something I say, think about it, and do what I FRACKIN' WANT HIM TO DO?!?!? I know, I know, it's the age. But it's not just the age, it's my reaction to this age's quirks and foibles and DIFFICULTIES. I yell. I pout and hold grudges. I even (and oh, I hate to admit this) spank on occasion. I do not BELIEVE in spanking. I think hitting your child (and oh yes, spanking is a type of hitting) only teaches THEM to hit. Not exactly what I want to encourage, you know? But yet, I have been so at my wits end that I HAVE DONE IT.
And I hate all of it. The yelling, the frustration, the repeating myself 15 times, the threats... the spanking.
I need a fresh start, a new approach. I need something more than "offer him choices" and "Have you read 1-2-3 Magic?" (Yes, I HAVE).
Tonight was a typical night, where trouble came from many minor areas that all served to push my mildly frustrated mood into a simmering, pouty, doom-and-gloom mood. Lucy was crying when I arrived to pick her up from daycare, and her teacher gave me the stink eye about her runny nose and cough. Finn was irate when I offered him yogurt-covered cranberries and chocolate-covered raisins as a snack, because WHERE ARE THE YOGURT-COVERED RAISINS? Lucy threw food during dinner, and Finn pulled a post-bedtime story poop fake-out to prolong his bedtime. Nothing out of the ordinary, but yet I couldn't help feeling inappropriately terrible.
As I picked up the house with M. (cleaning lady comes tomorrow), my simmering and seething began to focus on daycare. And I realized (tonight, at least) that it's not really the kids that were driving me crazy. It's my feeling (
again) that we may not have them at the right daycare. The school is having a few staff changes - one teacher leaving, a shuffle to accommodate - and... I'm just not sure. I'm not sure I like the arrangements. I'm not sure these people are really qualified. And even if they are, I'm not sure I like that I'm even questioning whether they are qualified.
I plan to ask questions. I hope I like the answers, because there are many things I DO like about our daycare. But I'm getting tired of not feeling sure. Of feeling guilty.
As I thought even more about this though, I came to a second realization - that maybe guilt is the real culprit of my awful, no good, terrible evening. It's not the kids (even though it is), and it's not daycare (even though it is that, too). Mostly, I think my bad mood is coming from a conversation I had at work today. And the more I think about it, the more I have trouble believing that it actually occurred.
I was speaking to a group of women at work, all of us with kids of varying ages - some grown and struggling to find their way post-college, some starting grade school, and me with my little ones in daycare. The conversation was pleasant and nice and relatable and all the things you might think such a conversation would be among friendly women who get along. Then one woman told me a story that took me aback. She is recently back to work after taking several years off to raise her children. Her youngest child just started kindergarten last week, but she herself started back to work about 6 months ago. So during the late spring and summer, this woman enrolled her child in a preschool/daycare until kindergarten began. And one day, when she pulled up to daycare in her car, her daughter saw a baby being taken in to the school. She asked her mom what a baby was doing going to a preschool, and her mom told her that some women go back to work right after having a baby, and the daycare takes care of the babies for the mommies during the day. And her daughter replied, "Oh mommy, I'm so GLAD you stayed home with me, thank you!"
Now, I'm not begrudging this woman the appreciation she must have felt when her daughter said this. I'm sure it was very heartwarming for her. But this struck me as a very insensitive story to tell someone who did NOT stay home with her babies, who in fact still considers her children (or at least one of them) to be babies and IS NOT home with them. I have to admit, I felt a bit judged. OK, more than a bit judged, if I'm being honest; it stung.
Maybe I'm overly sensitive to this, as my mom stayed home with me, and M.'s mom stayed home with him. I feel like I SHOULD be with my kids, even if I CAN'T be with them, and to be honest, am not really sure I WANT to be with them all day.
So I obsess, and wonder constantly if I'm doing the right thing - pay the mortgage, or stay home with the kids? Buy stuff, or stay home with the kids? Clearly, for now, I've chosen to buy stuff and pay the mortgage. But then I wonder constantly about the care they get during those long, long days at daycare - at the quality of their stand-in mommies. And even though I yell and scold and threaten and even, occasionally, spank, I just can't convince myself that they measure up to ME.
Blah, blah... Sorry for the overly long, downer post. Quick, let me distract you with pictures of my adorable children (and husband)!
On the way to the National Zoo
At the Zoo
If only all my pictures could be taken outside...
Shockingly blue lollipop tongue
In mid "pumping the brake" soccer move
Watching her brother play soccer (she is not normally this still)
Playing with silly bands instead of listening to the coach (my opinion of silly bands is for another post)
Staunchly refusing to give in to fall weather by wearing pants (and instead, wearing far too small 2T shorts)
The family's littlest Cheesehead
