Wednesday, November 7, 2007

What a difference a day makes

Yesterday, after we put the kids to bed, I lay on my bed in my pink plaid flannel pajamas and told Andy that today had felt like failure. The score was:

Kids: 1 (or 1,000 if I felt like being melodramatic)

Both kids have had a cough for the better part of a month. That's it; a dry, croup-y, wakes them and us up all night, oh-by-the-way, we-don't-give-cough-medicine-to-kids-under-age-40-anymore cough. They're irritable, I'm irritable. We're having listening issues, and respect issues, and sleep deficit issues.

Oh, and RC continues his antics in spades. Yesterday, it involved him attacking this Erector set/drinking straw/scaffolding-looking thing that HRH's whole class had worked together to build and was being displayed in the hallway for all the parents to admire. Uh, not anymore. It's funny, it's exasperating, it's two-year-old behavior - and it's happening far too frequently to be amusing anymore.

It basically came down to me not being the kind of mom I wanted to be. I yelled when I should have reasoned, I reacted when I should have ignored, I relented when I said no too quickly, and I resented being that way.

Fast forward 24 hours: I was reasonably sure that the primary topic for tonight's Parent-Teacher conference would be my allowing HRH to attend preschool when he clearly has tuberculosis.

Instead, Andy and I sat and beamed while the obviously skilled and insightful educator explained that in all her years, she has NEVER had a student so advanced for his age - academically and socially. That my boy is "a joy to have in the classroom," that he eagerly helps others, expresses his emotions positively, blah, blah, blah: superlatives, compliments, accolades.

I'm modest, so I won't bore you with the praise she heaped on us for the work we've done with him.

Clearly, I am the best mother in the world. Until tomorrow.


suburbancorrespondent said...

I really hate being on that roller-coaster ride of "Good Mommy, Bad Mommy," but there doesn't seem to be any way to avoid it. Why do we all keep judging ourselves so much? Why don't we just value what we are at the moment? What the heck are we all measuring ourselves against, anyway? Beats me, because I'm definitely on the ride with you.

Phoenix said...

The joy of two year olds is that one day you could not adore them more, they are the greatest, smartest, cutest thing to walk the face of the earth and the next day, they are monsters you are driving you to an early grave. Or maybe it's not a joy? Who knows? When my youngest niece was fact the older one too, we used to say, it's a good thing you're so cute or we'd sell you on the black market.

Michelle said...

Oh my god, am I lucky that my kids have a doc that will give them a knock-them-out cough medicine. Reasonable docs know that coughing makes you cough more. The whole vicious cycle thing.

A good mother lets her kids eat the cake batter off the beaters. A GREAT mother turns off the mixer first.


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