When Parenting is Like a Punch to the Face
Today I had several moments where I felt like a total boss lady. At one point I was walking down the hall in a plaid, sheath dress that fits me perfectly, red heels and a giant coffee and thought damn, I'm rocking this. Lest you think I've got it all together this moment less than three hours before LPD discovered I'd left my car running for two hours in the City Hall parking garage.
It turns out this parenting thing is tough. And I find it surprising. I have to be honest: my son was an excellent baby. He rarely cried. He slept, ate, went to the bathroom and developed beautifully. It was honestly so easy sometimes that I thought really...what do people think is so tough about this parenting thing?
He started to throw the occasional tantrum around 18 months, but again his tantrums were manageable. He is strong-willed and wants to get what he wants. As he turned two and three we still had occasional tantrums, but they were rare. I have a good friend who told me the age of three is like two with intent, and I learned that it's true. But even then Will was happy 95 percent of the time with the occasional meltdown.
We switched schools in January, a decision I have never regretted even for a minute. He needed more structure. He was watching too much TV at school, coming home and telling us about shows we would never allow him to watch. Then he would throw tantrums when we refused to let him watch those shows. He needed more rules and discipline at school, so we moved somewhere much more structured. He's been thriving.
While his tantrums are still relatively rare, as he gets older he knows there are things he can do and words he can say that will get a reaction from us. While the tantrums aren't frequent they're angry. Last week his teacher talked to my husband about ways to deal with him when he gets so angry.
We had an awesome weekend last weekend while my husband was out of town. We played in the rain, went to the pool and the zoo, snuggled and read lots of books. It was a perfect weekend with my perfectly behaved little guy.
Mondays are always hard as we get back into the school routine, so we're used to that. This morning he refused to eat breakfast, and getting out the door was tough. We got to school and he said, "I'm not going to school. We're going home!" I took him out of his car seat and started carrying him inside when he decided to hit me and yell at me. I found myself in the parking lot at school trying desperately not to lose my cool. I repeatedly told him he was being unkind and we do not treat people that way. I carried him inside fuming, and decided to take a less populated back stairwell up to his second floor classroom. I sat him down on the steps and tried to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. I was so angry and so frustrated, and what I really wanted to do was spank his butt. But we don't do that, and at any rate what's that message: don't hit mommy or she will hit you?
I took him to his classroom, and as I tried to leave he chased me and hit me again. I sat him in a chair by the door and tried to reason with him. Finally I looked at his teacher and said, "Is it just easier if I leave?" and she said yes.
So I walked out, looking like I had it all together in my fabulous plaid dress and red heels. And then I got in the car and lost it. I called my husband and then hung up, crying hysterically on my five minute drive to the office. Kids do this - they push our buttons and try to get their way. But I felt helpless because I really did not know how to get him to stop. And I felt like a failure.
I got to the office and sat in the car for about ten minutes, trying to stop crying and then trying to let my face go back to its normal, pre-ugly cry state. Then I got out of my car and walked upstairs like I owned the place. Two hours later I got a call from LPD that I'd left my car running in the garage. Needless to say I did NOT have it together.
My husband and I both happened to be free for lunch, so we grabbed a quick bite to debrief on the morning. I fought back tears again at lunch, and I felt like an absolute failure. I love my son more than I thought it was possible to love another human. I want nothing more for him to be healthy and happy and a well-adjusted human. And while I realize I may be overreacting, this morning rattled me. In a world in which I cling so tightly to control everything around me, I was not in control. I maintained my cool, I walked out with my head held high, but I felt like a failure.
Nobody warns you about this part of parenting. I expected late nights, zombie-like days, cleaning up vomit and hundreds of dirty diapers. I expected snuggles, reading the same book five times and laughing at his funny personality. But this feeling of defeat...well nobody puts that in the parenting books. Nobody tells you that sprinkled in with the love and laughter and magic of parenting it'll also kick your ass. There are days that will feel like you can't do anything right, and days when you feel like you have no idea what you're doing.
For me today was one of those days. I ate a giant burger and fries at lunch. That helped. I dove into work and that helped. I drank too much coffee. That helped. And I tried not to judge myself too harshly (I was unsuccessful). He had an excellent day at school and a great evening, so we keep trying. We stress kindness and try to maintain an even keel as much as possible. And hopefully, the next time he loses his mind as all toddlers do, I'll beat myself up less.
It turns out this parenting thing is tough. And I find it surprising. I have to be honest: my son was an excellent baby. He rarely cried. He slept, ate, went to the bathroom and developed beautifully. It was honestly so easy sometimes that I thought really...what do people think is so tough about this parenting thing?
He started to throw the occasional tantrum around 18 months, but again his tantrums were manageable. He is strong-willed and wants to get what he wants. As he turned two and three we still had occasional tantrums, but they were rare. I have a good friend who told me the age of three is like two with intent, and I learned that it's true. But even then Will was happy 95 percent of the time with the occasional meltdown.
We switched schools in January, a decision I have never regretted even for a minute. He needed more structure. He was watching too much TV at school, coming home and telling us about shows we would never allow him to watch. Then he would throw tantrums when we refused to let him watch those shows. He needed more rules and discipline at school, so we moved somewhere much more structured. He's been thriving.
While his tantrums are still relatively rare, as he gets older he knows there are things he can do and words he can say that will get a reaction from us. While the tantrums aren't frequent they're angry. Last week his teacher talked to my husband about ways to deal with him when he gets so angry.
We had an awesome weekend last weekend while my husband was out of town. We played in the rain, went to the pool and the zoo, snuggled and read lots of books. It was a perfect weekend with my perfectly behaved little guy.
Mondays are always hard as we get back into the school routine, so we're used to that. This morning he refused to eat breakfast, and getting out the door was tough. We got to school and he said, "I'm not going to school. We're going home!" I took him out of his car seat and started carrying him inside when he decided to hit me and yell at me. I found myself in the parking lot at school trying desperately not to lose my cool. I repeatedly told him he was being unkind and we do not treat people that way. I carried him inside fuming, and decided to take a less populated back stairwell up to his second floor classroom. I sat him down on the steps and tried to talk to him, but he wasn't having it. I was so angry and so frustrated, and what I really wanted to do was spank his butt. But we don't do that, and at any rate what's that message: don't hit mommy or she will hit you?
I took him to his classroom, and as I tried to leave he chased me and hit me again. I sat him in a chair by the door and tried to reason with him. Finally I looked at his teacher and said, "Is it just easier if I leave?" and she said yes.
So I walked out, looking like I had it all together in my fabulous plaid dress and red heels. And then I got in the car and lost it. I called my husband and then hung up, crying hysterically on my five minute drive to the office. Kids do this - they push our buttons and try to get their way. But I felt helpless because I really did not know how to get him to stop. And I felt like a failure.
I got to the office and sat in the car for about ten minutes, trying to stop crying and then trying to let my face go back to its normal, pre-ugly cry state. Then I got out of my car and walked upstairs like I owned the place. Two hours later I got a call from LPD that I'd left my car running in the garage. Needless to say I did NOT have it together.
My husband and I both happened to be free for lunch, so we grabbed a quick bite to debrief on the morning. I fought back tears again at lunch, and I felt like an absolute failure. I love my son more than I thought it was possible to love another human. I want nothing more for him to be healthy and happy and a well-adjusted human. And while I realize I may be overreacting, this morning rattled me. In a world in which I cling so tightly to control everything around me, I was not in control. I maintained my cool, I walked out with my head held high, but I felt like a failure.
Nobody warns you about this part of parenting. I expected late nights, zombie-like days, cleaning up vomit and hundreds of dirty diapers. I expected snuggles, reading the same book five times and laughing at his funny personality. But this feeling of defeat...well nobody puts that in the parenting books. Nobody tells you that sprinkled in with the love and laughter and magic of parenting it'll also kick your ass. There are days that will feel like you can't do anything right, and days when you feel like you have no idea what you're doing.
For me today was one of those days. I ate a giant burger and fries at lunch. That helped. I dove into work and that helped. I drank too much coffee. That helped. And I tried not to judge myself too harshly (I was unsuccessful). He had an excellent day at school and a great evening, so we keep trying. We stress kindness and try to maintain an even keel as much as possible. And hopefully, the next time he loses his mind as all toddlers do, I'll beat myself up less.
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