By Carrie Tinsley of Carrie On Y’all
About an hour ago, I left my screaming two-year-old at his twice per week Mother’s Day Out program. He was inconsolable and not taking his “abandonment” lightly. He forced me, with my arms full of backpack, cups, and lunchbox, to drag him down the hallway instead of walking into the room of his own accord. When we arrived, he was screaming “NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!” so loudly that people in different rooms were emerging to see what could possibly be so wrong.
Once inside his classroom, he upset his classmates by swinging the door open (to escape) so violently that it slammed against the wall with a loud BANG. I had to retrieve him twice. As his teacher held him, I bent to tell him I love him and give him a kiss on the cheek. As we separated, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, begging me not to leave.
He was fine five minutes later.
Here I was shedding tears of guilt (how could I leave him like that?) and embarrassment (like, everyone saw and heard that) in the church parking lot before I drove away, and his teacher texted me to say that he was already finger painting with shaving cream. WTF.
This morning’s incident inspired me to write sentences beginning with “Why Can’t I Have a Kid Who…” because sometimes I look at other parents and they (and their seemingly perfect progeny) seem to be doing all the things well (or at least without shamefully embarrassing public incident). Unlike me.
1. Why can’t I have a kid who excitedly skips into school, says “Bye, Mama,” sits down, and enjoys his morning artwork? In reality, two of my three kids are painfully easy at drop-off. They saunter confidently into school each day, greeting their teachers and friends, eager to see what they’ll learn today. My two-year-old? I could do without the Oscar-worthy departure performances twice weekly at 8:45am. See above.
2. Why can’t I have a kid who, once “potty-trained,” actually is potty-trained? For two-and-a-half years, I have been fighting the potty training war…we have had brief periods of peace in which I don’t do eighty loads of laundry per week, but during most of that time, my middle guy has had accidents…upon accidents…upon accidents of the numbers one and two variety. Before you get out your advice or regale me with stories in which you potty-trained your perfect angel in a weekend and she never had an accident again…STOP. I have accepted my fate, and I’m doing the best I can do with him.
He sometimes goes to the potty. Sometimes he pees on himself because he doesn’t feel like stopping whatever activity he’s engrossed in. The plan for now is that he will not go to college still peeing in his pants. Hopefully, he won’t even go to kindergarten like that, but as that deadline looms ever closer, I may say first grade. I’m just saying…it would be nice to have a kid who was easily potty trained. I plan to begin potty training his two-year-old brother in about five years.
[/nextpage] [nextpage title=”Page 2″ ]3. Why can’t I have a kid who doesn’t eat like an 18-year-old frat boy? All three of my kids are terrible eaters. Yes, I take responsibility for this, but let me also mention the gazillions of uneaten vegetables that glare pitifully at me from their plates at the end of each meal. I know you perfect parents out there, with your perfect meal plans and your perfect kids who only eat gluten-free/organic/watered-with-unicorn-tears food, look down on me, and that’s fine. I’ll take your vegan-istic criticism. But just once I would love to serve a healthy, awesome meal, replete with veggies and other yumminess, and have my family say, “Thanks, mom. That was great.”
4. Why can’t I have a kid who loves to clean? When I was growing up, my mom always loved for my friend Jennifer (a lovely good influence on her hedonistic, slovenly daughter) to spend the night. Why? Among many other wonderful traits, Jennifer loved to clean. She was tidy…she put away all the clothes I had tossed all over my bedroom. She asked where cleaning products were and scrubbed. I know. Now, my punishment is to have birthed three more slovenly little humans into the world. Chore charts, allowance, and a basic sense of environmental pride do nothing to entice these people to clean. I have no idea where they get it.
5. Why can’t I have a kid who doesn’t pick fights with his/her siblings? At this point, I think being an NFL referee with the ever-present threat of being mowed down by 300-pound men might not be as difficult as mediating the constant barrage of arguments amongst my three kids. They find the most miniscule, ridiculous, arbitrary elements of life to argue about. “My seat is half-an-inch taller than yours!”
“No, Mom! I wanted the red cup!” “Tell him that Leonardo is the best Ninja Turtle!” “Mom, he LOOKED at me! Make him STOP!”
All day. Every day. Sometimes the angels smile down on us and they play at a blessedly low decibel level and get along. But when that happens, the trade-off is that our house looks like a hurricane has hit.
I love to whine, so thanks for indulging me. In case you think me the worst mother on the planet, I assure you that I also look daily, hourly, minute-ly at what I do have.
I have three smart, funny, healthy, kind, beautiful children. I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my belly. I have a prince of a husband who is my best friend, I have amazing friends and extended family, I have an incredible church family, my children’s schools are without equal, and I love (the most) my job as a mother.
But sometimes, it would be nice to just drop a certain somebody off at school without all the drama.
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About Carrie Tinsley
Carrie Tinsley is a Southern girl, a recovering English teacher, the wife of a very patient man, and the mother of three kids, a dog, and a cat. She loves audio books, alcohol, and writing about parenting misadventures and other poor attempts at housekeeping and DIY atCarrie On Y’all. You can also follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.