Tag: preschool

The Not So Patient Mommy

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

I think it’s getting worse, either the older he gets or the older I get, or perhaps just both! Shortly after I made the life changing decision to become a stay at home mom, I truly thought I was developing that virtue that had eluded me my entire life…PATIENCE. For a while, I actually believed that I was turning a new page and becoming the patient person I had always hoped I’d be. Then one day it was no longer just the two of us at home. Henry had come along and I was now forced to find a way to split my time between the two. Not an easy feat, but one I thought I was accomplishing.

Now that Henry has become more mobile (I always envision myself saying that in a British accent, not sure why), he’s started impeding my progress with Davey. This, of course, is infuriating to Davey as he’d truly like to have me all to himself. And since I am a stay at home mom, I believe it is not just my duty, but also my responsibility and obligation to mold my children. I am accountable to their character and integrity, their strengths and weaknesses, their emphatic abilities, and their learning and intelligence. This is mine. It falls squarely on my shoulders.

I do send Davey to preschool, which my husband really refers to as “glorified daycare”, and truly I can’t really argue with him, but I don’t do that in order to wash my hands clean of my responsibilities. Davey goes to preschool, 2 days a week, 3 hours a day, 6 hours a week. It’s a minor amount of time, but one that is vital not just to my sanity, but to his, Henry’s, and really my husband’s.

Sending him to preschool does not alleviate my role as his primary teacher, nurturer, guardian, and confidant. It’s just a little added padding to what I’m already doing with him. Unfortunately, I’m finding it harder and harder to teach Davey anything the older he becomes. He suffers from the horrible Doser/Bruce trifecta of being independent, strong-willed, and hard-headed. It’s becoming virtually impossible for me to teach him anything as he refuses to sit still for more than 3 minutes and listen to me explain something. How can I explain to him how to tell time when he won’t look at the cards or me?

He’s still young, albeit a few weeks from three, but I can’t believe that he’s not capable of learning more than he’s willing to at this point. Problem is how do I teach him that something more, when I have a 9 month old screaming and crying, pulling on my leg, a dog whining because the 9 month old’s crying is driving her bonkers and she won’t go outside because it’s raining, and a nearly 3 year old who tells me he already knows everything? How do I teach in that environment? This is why I never chose a career path as a teacher.

So, while once upon a time, my patience was finally starting to blossom, all it really took was the Terrible Twos and Trying Threes, to really stomp it out of existence. And people wonder why I “torture” myself with training for Triathlons and Marathons. If I didn’t have that outlet, I would literally go insane.

Hip Hip Hooray for Pre-K

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

The day was circled in a bright, obnoxious red on my calendar. With each stroke of a passing day, I became more and more excited and more and more relieved. Monday night, I regressed back to my days of preparing for the first day of school. I took Davey’s bag, read and re-read through the handbook, created my list of additional wish list items, and organized my day around the first day of school. I went to bed early, a little excited, but also exhausted. And for the first time, my fitbit recorded I had a 100% sleep efficiency. Coincidental? I think not.

Tuesday morning, I arose early. I showered and dressed before waking the boys. Davey was awake, as usual, but quietly sitting in his bed reading books (as usual). I dressed him, had him help me get Henry ready, and then we trudged off downstairs all the while quizzing him on his phonics and the name of his new teacher.

We arrived at the school to a multitude of parents. Once again, I looked like the single parent as I was the only one chauffeuring my kids in without a husband at my side. Do these other dads not work or do they have such wonderfully, illustrious jobs that they can come and go as they please? Must be nice!

I walked Davey into his classroom and helped him hang his bag. He sat down at the table and began working a puzzle as I debated whether or not I should hang around. He obviously didn’t care what I did, but I wondered, just for a split second, as to how I looked to the other mothers who were kneeling down with their children, tussling their hair and doling out kissed. All I really wanted to do was vacate and much like from the Beatles “Hard Days Night” movie push open the door and scream, “I’m free!” Instead I controlled myself, smiled at his teacher and quietly walked out of the room.

What I should have done is immediately get in my car and leave, but I couldn’t. I was compelled to spy upon this room that had been set aside, a room where coffee and pastries were being served. A room where mothers got together with each other and sobbed about their little babies going to school. A room aptly titled, “Sip and Sob.” I stuck my head in and was shocked at the number of mothers who were consoling each other. Wow! I didn’t understand it and as I was about to turn to leave, I was stopped by a mother coming in who asked how I was holding up. I spouted out a statement I stole from my buddy, Shelley…”They should have a mimosas and muffins room to celebrate my survival being a stay at home mom with this kid.” Then I smiled and walked away.

I picked Davey up 3 hours later and listened to his excitement and adventures. Later that evening I received an email from his teacher. Davey was the only child who didn’t shed any tears and she has a feeling I’m the only mom from his class who didn’t partake in the Sip and Sob room. Go, Davey and Mommy!

Thursday progressed much the same way, but I have discovered a few things this week.

1. I’m possibly the only mother who doesn’t care if my child wears cute designer clothing. I put him in a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers. Everyone else (BOTH days) were in their Sunday bests.
2. Make sure to arrive at the carline at 12:01, so as to not be the first one in line since the playground is alongside the carline and apparently, recess is the last event of the day. I eventually had to drive off and lose my spot in line because Davey wanted to hang on to the fence and have a conversation with me.
3. My son’s best friends are all girls.
4. I’m probably the only mother not on the PTA.
5. I’m the only mother who still has a baby pooch for a stomach.
6. I must do better at memorizing the names of the other moms especially since they all know mine and Davey’s.
7. I also need to work on my socialize skills and at least PRETEND to care about these other moms so I can develop more BFFs (insert sarcasm)
8. These other moms must have filthy rich husbands, or come from money because they drive the designer cars, wear the designer clothes, and seem to be able to afford plastic surgery.
And finally
9. Any worry or fear about Davey I may have had whether it be intellect, socialization, or attitude can and should be put to bed. My kid is awesome and has this innate knack to adapt to ANYTHING.

“Mama Go. I Play.”

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Four simple little words, two sentences, and yet so profound and impactful, at least for me.

Those were the words my son gave to me as I dropped him off at his first day of Mother’s Morning Out, which is a sort of preschool/daycare. He’s not quite two yet, but my husband and I felt that it would be beneficial to all parties involved (me, him, Davey, and the soon to be Henry), to enroll Davey in something that is “his”. I wanted him to have more social interaction with children and less time with me. So, we chose to do it one day a week. It meets for five uninterrupted hours in the day! What a joyous break, or so I thought when I first decided to enroll him.

Monday night, I did my typical “first day” preparations. It’s something I’ve always done the night before my “first day”, whether that be work, school, vacation, community function, you name it. I’m a planner and I need to have things in place and organized. I don’t do well “flying by the seat of my pants”.

As I packed Davey’s new back pack, complete with diapers, wipes, and a change of clothes, I started feeling a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Where was all of my excitement and anticipation from the previous weeks? Why was I starting to think I was making a bad decision? I shook my head for a moment, quickly doing my best to demolish the thoughts from my head, and started working on his lunch. I was nervous and excited. Would I sleep? Would I be able to eat the next morning? And why was this affecting me so badly?

Tuesday morning rolled around. I woke up early, showered, made coffee and ate breakfast. (What was this? My first day? I suppose.) I double checked Davey’s back pack and his lunch box. I made sure to grab his raincoat as it was raining and then debated on just what type of breakfast I would make for my future scholar. After completing all of this, including making sure I had any last minute paperwork completed and in hand, I went upstairs to awaken Davey. Let me make a quick side bar here…It was 7:30 and Davey was still sleeping. My son NEVER sleeps this late, even if we put him to bed later. Could it have been that he knew it was his first day of “school”? Perhaps all children are born with this sort of microchip in their brains that signals when school is starting, therefore encouraging the late sleeping? I don’t know, but I do find it quite fishy.

I dressed my son, fed him his breakfast, combed out his hair, and put his back pack on him. We walked out the door a half an hour before school started (it’s a ten minute drive away, but I loathe tardiness. I detest it. I can’t understand people who are constantly late). As we drove down the road, we sang some nursery rhymes, listened to the news, and briefly discussed Davey’s first day. Did he completely understand the significance of the day? Probably not, but being so important to me, I continued on.

We pulled into the school parking lot. I parked, walked around to the back, and opened Davey’s door. He eagerly put on his backpack, grabbed his lunch box, and held my hand. He commented on the flowers, the color of the door, the stairs, and the pretty bulletin board as we walked down the hall to his room. As per my usual custom, we were the first to arrive. Did I tell you I hate being late? If I instill one good trait in my children, it will be that they’re ALWAYS early, not just on time.

I signed Davey in, got him situated, and walked through everything with one of the teachers. Davey began immediately playing and within a couple of minutes, another child had arrived. I asked Davey for a last hug and kiss. He ran over to me, gave me one of each, and then pushed me out the door with the comment, “Mama go, I play.” Then he ran off! The nerve of him! He didn’t cry! He didn’t seem scared. He seemed perfectly happy and adjusted, so why was this such a difficult moment for me? I am becoming a mother I never thought I would be.

Quietly I closed the door and then lingered for a moment. I peeked through the window, anticipating that Davey would realize I was gone and quickly run to the door screaming, but it never happened. He continued to play. I dropped my head, succumbing to the defeat, and knowing that my child would do quite well.

I choked back my tears until I got in the car, then slowly let them fall. What was I sad about? I should be grateful that my child is so independent, and I am! I should be happy that he’s able to adjust to his environment, and I am! I guess what I’m sad about is the fact that for just today or maybe that one moment, I was not needed. My baby boy isn’t going to be a baby much longer. Sure, I have at least 16 years before he goes off to college, but the past two felt like they’ve flown by. I’m afraid if I blink, the next 16 will be gone as well.

I’ll adjust and truthfully having him gone for five hours allowed me to accomplish so much…3 loads of laundry (all of which needed to be ironed), a clean kitchen, cutting in with paint on his new bedroom, and even a Rotary meeting at lunch. I can only hope, though, that dropping him off will eventually get better.

Preschool Blues

On By Doser3In Dreaming of Mommyhood - GeneralLeave a comment

Today I dropped off the paperwork and registration fee for Davey to start a Mother’s Morning Out program the first week of September. It’s something I’ve considered for quite some time especially with Henry on the way and truthfully I think Davey and I need the occasional break from each other. I researched, discussed it with my husband, and then contacted one of my girlfriends who sent her son to this same program. And it really didn’t take much coercion for me to decide that this is the place I wanted to send Davey or that I even wanted him to go.

Of course, it was almost a month ago when my husband and I made the decision to send Davey. At that point, September seemed so far away and I was almost conflicted about the whole thing. Actually, I’m still conflicted. Last month, I was almost desperate and at my wit’s end. I needed an outlet for Davey. I needed some place he could go so that I could have some time to myself. As a matter of fact, I would have sent him that very day, but now I’m becoming sad and a little nervous about the whole thing.

I’m sad because this is yet another sign that my baby is growing up and he’ll no longer be my baby. I’m sad because I almost feel like I’m a failure for needing to send him to a Mother’s Morning Out program. I’m sad because while he may be my Achilles heel at times, he won’t be with me all day. And then there’s the nervous end of the spectrum.

What if he doesn’t like it? What if he’s a little minion? What if he displays his stubborn, independence with his teachers and they want him to leave? What if he doesn’t really learn anything? What if he sees it as abandonment? I don’t really think he’ll feel abandoned, but I still worry about him. Supposedly, he’s a completely different child when he’s not around me. I should be thankful for that. I guess I’d much rather have him displaying his Terrible Twos around me as opposed to anyone else.

We go next week to Open House where I’ll be able to meet the teachers and introduce Davey. This is a big step. This is huge. This is the next milestone in our relationship as mother and son. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll be like me when my parents took me to Open House before I started kindergarten. Apparently, I wanted to stay and my words to my mother were, “You never let me do anything.” Or will he be like my brother, who screamed bloody murder and latched on to my mother’s leg? I don’t know how my husband was with his first day of kindergarten or preschool, but I can only hope it was a piece of cake.

On the plus side, this will give Davey social interaction WITHOUT me, which is a good thing. I’ve had him involved in a lot of things since I became a stay at home mom, but I’ve always been with him on each adventure. And then, I’ll have at least one day a week for three months to myself, that is before Henry arrives, and then I won’t be alone again for a while.

So, this weekend I guess we’ll be off shopping for a backpack and lunch box for Davey and I’ll officially be one of those moms who’s up and packing lunches and getting together school supplies (the school supplies are a little ways off still). It’s exciting and scary all rolled into one. Yikes! Here’s hoping Davey and I both survive!