There are some times you just shouldn't blog about your kids. I have read several posts that later come with retractions because mother's felt guilty after they blogged their child's "bad day." I know that I am falling into this category, but I am diving in. Blogging usually helps me clear my head.
Let's start at the beginning. Hubby just told me last week that he has to go out of town for a few day. (lucky me to have such a planner for a husband.) So I get a friend to babysit my little cherub of a 19 mo. old while I attend my daughter's 1st grade open house. (Yes, I am a planner) Well, my sweet friend forgets, (it's OK, happens to the best of us, I can't tell you how many times I forget these kind of things.) Not a big deal, and the only reason I am telling you this is so I don't read a comment stating that I should have left the kid at home. I tried, didn't work out.
So we go to open house... he starts screaming while I fill out paperwork, luckily I am prepared. I get a Target receipt out & a pencil, he's good to go for oh... 20 seconds. Then the screaming, pulling other kids' things off their desks and ruining their cute little star shaped pie tins full of candy. Not a huge problem, just switch it with my daughters. Problem diverted. Good for me. Then comes the loud screaming and other dads laughing. Thanks for that, it truly makes someone feel loads better when you just laugh. But it's OK, I have once again prepared. I whip out a baggie of Golden Grahams cereal and voila! Instant quiet. Now I make my way to the back of the room and this adorable, bubbly first grade teacher starts talking. And as she does so, she is staring straight at me. Probably because, a.) All the dads looked like they were bored out of their minds. b.) all the moms were either adjusting their cute kid's clothes and not paying attention, or reading the handout and not paying attention. I, however was paying attention. I love this stuff, being a teacher myself, I know exactly how she feels and I am going to give her my undivided attention. That is until....
The Child From Hell decides that he needs to perk up & destroy any bit of decorum I may have at that moment. He starts wailing at the top of his lungs. Not even an octive I have ever heard. He thrusts himself around in his stroller like he is being tazed, which if I had one, I may have just used it! So I go back to what worked before, distractions & food. No go! So I pick him up and he proceeds to pull hair, slap me and scream. All while the teacher is telling us all about report cards and homework. Mortified is the word of the moment. I take him outside the room where I feel that maybe, just maybe I can get a handle on him & go back, but no. Not a chance in hell. He is even worse out in the hall, if you can imagine. I try to put him in timeout and I swear other parents thought I was killing him. They were leaning out of the classroom looking, that is until I looked back at them and then they pretended like I wasn't there.
If only I was somewhere I could have just left, like the grocery store or the library. But no, my sweet daughter is intently listening to her teacher in her fabulous shoes and so proud of herself for being in 1st grade. And I find myself really resenting my son for robbing me of that moment. I tried to apologize to my daughter, thinking that must have embaressed her to death. Instead she just said,"Mom, that's what all babies do, he's just going to miss me because I am going to school tomorrow." Then I felt horrible for reacting the way I did, bawling my eyes out the whole ride home.
After many tears shed by both my child and I ,and the biggest timeout in history for a 1 year old, we got over it. He hugged me and even brought me his favorite toy as a peace offering. He went to bed perfectly, which has been a struggle the past few days. It must be the energy he expelled this evening. Now I know that tomorrow I am going to wish that I didn't write this. It's not funny, it's not interesting, it's just real. Sorry, this one is more for me to vent..... I promise to be witty and clever tomorrow.
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