Yesterday sucked. I am generally a positive, glass half-full, mind-over-matter person. But yesterday, well, it blew. But it didn’t blow chunks, and that’s the best thing I can say about yesterday—no one threw up on me or my bed. I know that in several years, I’ll lament the times I wished these days away; when Henry starts Kindergarten, I’ll reminiscence wistfully about the toddler years. (If I have any doubt, all I need to do is reread my blog entries about Abby’s first days of Kindergarten.) But yesterday, well, it sucked.
Abby has been practicing some new skills she’s picked up from her school friends. One talent she’s floating is the “I’m-the-final-authority” skill. The other, equally charming trait is lying, masquerading as very long jokes. This manifested itself in a battle of wills:
“My teacher told me to hang upside down on the back of the couch. Really.”
“Abby,” I postured, “are you sure that you’re telling me the truth?”
“Yup. Mrs. LaGory told us to do this.”
“Abby. Come on. Please tell me the truth.”
“She did she did she did she really, really, really, really, really, really, did.”
“So,” I countered, “I’ll email her (thank you technology) and ask her why she recommended this odd behavior.”
“No, mommy, don’t ask her. But she did tell us to. Really.”
I eagerly sauntered to my Blackberry to shoot off a trump email to Mrs. LaGory.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” screamed Abby.
A long discussion (the fifth of many) ensued regarding jokes, lying and the truth.
The fun continued (does it ever stop?) with day six of sick Henry. The combination of the plague, potty-training and full-blown two-year-old tantrums rendered me numb. Normally, at this point, I’d enlighten with some illustrative examples. Instead, I will say that I have never, EVER wanted to smack a child as much as I wanted to smack Henry yesterday. (Ok, maybe that urge has been there before…) I had a can of whoop-ass with his name ALL over it. And things haven’t really improved. This morning, when I took a screaming Henry into the bathroom at his preschool, I wearily looked at his teachers and asked them if the bar was open yet. Luckily, they have a sense of humor.
Many times over the last 36 hours I’ve waged guesses as to who has been raising these children. Their behavior couldn’t possibly be any reflection of me or my parenting. Could it? I mean, I gratefully take credit for the wondrous things they do. But the icky, tiring, embarrassing, sassy, loud, tempering, trying and rude stuff? Nope, not me.
Am I really so shallow?
Yesterday, I was. Shallow as the day was long.