The Crying Game
All I really want is a little quiet. Not days of quiet, just a couple hours where I don't have to play, "I Spy" or "I'm Thinking of a Color" or "Going on a Picnic" or "The Copying Game" or "Lightening McQueen and Tow Mater" or "The Animals on the Farm Keep Falling Off the Horse and Need to Take a Deep Breath and Get a Bandaid," and a couple hours when the kiddies are off being entertained, taught, and/or fed by trained professionals. Those couple of hours have been mighty hard to find lately.
Today I got the girls through breakfast and onto the bus, both seemingly happy and well-rested. I brought Marty back in for a banana and some chocolate milk, and started to mentally fantasize about my 5 free hours.
Then the phone rang.
Nurse: Hi, we've got Lauren here in the clinic. She's crying and says that her stomach hurts. Was she crying before she left home this morning?
Me (I'm not super mommy but I really wouldn't send a sick kid to school): No, she was fine. She was happy when she got on the bus.
Nurse: She has a temperature of 99.6 degrees, which is almost a low grade fever, but if she was feeling fine, maybe she's just upset.
Me (There is not a single possibility that I will be going to pick her up before school even starts unless she is projectile vomiting): I think some one may have hurt her feelings. Usually when she gets upset, instead of saying she's upset, she says her stomach hurts. In fact, the last time she went to the clinic it was because she was upset. (She didn't get her turn to wipe the cafeteria tables - this from a girl who can put on a writhing full-body whine when I ask her to help pick up the toy room)
Nurse: Okay, I understand. I'll talk to her a little more to see if I can figure out what went wrong, and then I'll send her back to class.
Me ("Thank God"): Okay, thanks.
I had a few momentary pangs of guilt that I am not the super mom who would rush over there to comfort her, but really, I didn't have it in me. So I packed up Marty, who sang "Get Your Head in the Game" from the High School Musical soundtrack not once, but twice on the way to school, and headed for the day care.
As soon as we got out of the car, he started to cry.
Marty: I don't want to go to my school
Mommy: You like your school
Marty: NO I don't, my school is gross
Mommy: Your teachers are waiting for you
Marty: No they're not
Mommy: Well you can be a saddy boy if you want to, but you are going in.
Throughout the sign in and our trip through the halls, Marty refused to speak to any of the other adults there, and stared daggers at the ones trying to cheer him up. Unfortunately, back when he was little mister sunshine racing me to his classroom, he met everyone in the entire place and every one knows his name, so he was able to insult a wide array of people just in the lobby.
At the room, his teacher had a painting area all set up for him. He informed us that he doesn't like painting, he was not going to do any painting, he was not going to do any puzzles, he was not going to do anything.
Super Mommy: Okay, just sit in that blue chair over there and cry. I'll see you after lunch big boy.
When I picked Marty up, he told me that he was crying because another kid was crying, but his teacher told me that Marty was the only one. He also told her that he didn't get any breakfast. Maybe he needs toddler therapy.
Later, when Lauren got off the bus, I immediately opened the investigation, trying to get to the source of the morning misery.
Mommy: Lauren, was someone mean to you before school today?
Lauren: No
Mommy: What happened first thing? Did you give the cake mix and frosting (from the teacher wish list) to your teacher?
Lauren: Yes
Mommy: Did she say "thank you?"
Lauren: No, she didn't say anything.
Mommy (starting to fume because really, that is just rude): She didn't say anything?
Lauren: No. We had a substitute teacher today. And she said when we finish our morning work we hadded to put our heads down, but we only put our heads down when we're in trouble.
Investigation closed.
Today I got the girls through breakfast and onto the bus, both seemingly happy and well-rested. I brought Marty back in for a banana and some chocolate milk, and started to mentally fantasize about my 5 free hours.
Then the phone rang.
Nurse: Hi, we've got Lauren here in the clinic. She's crying and says that her stomach hurts. Was she crying before she left home this morning?
Me (I'm not super mommy but I really wouldn't send a sick kid to school): No, she was fine. She was happy when she got on the bus.
Nurse: She has a temperature of 99.6 degrees, which is almost a low grade fever, but if she was feeling fine, maybe she's just upset.
Me (There is not a single possibility that I will be going to pick her up before school even starts unless she is projectile vomiting): I think some one may have hurt her feelings. Usually when she gets upset, instead of saying she's upset, she says her stomach hurts. In fact, the last time she went to the clinic it was because she was upset. (She didn't get her turn to wipe the cafeteria tables - this from a girl who can put on a writhing full-body whine when I ask her to help pick up the toy room)
Nurse: Okay, I understand. I'll talk to her a little more to see if I can figure out what went wrong, and then I'll send her back to class.
Me ("Thank God"): Okay, thanks.
I had a few momentary pangs of guilt that I am not the super mom who would rush over there to comfort her, but really, I didn't have it in me. So I packed up Marty, who sang "Get Your Head in the Game" from the High School Musical soundtrack not once, but twice on the way to school, and headed for the day care.
As soon as we got out of the car, he started to cry.
Marty: I don't want to go to my school
Mommy: You like your school
Marty: NO I don't, my school is gross
Mommy: Your teachers are waiting for you
Marty: No they're not
Mommy: Well you can be a saddy boy if you want to, but you are going in.
Throughout the sign in and our trip through the halls, Marty refused to speak to any of the other adults there, and stared daggers at the ones trying to cheer him up. Unfortunately, back when he was little mister sunshine racing me to his classroom, he met everyone in the entire place and every one knows his name, so he was able to insult a wide array of people just in the lobby.
At the room, his teacher had a painting area all set up for him. He informed us that he doesn't like painting, he was not going to do any painting, he was not going to do any puzzles, he was not going to do anything.
Super Mommy: Okay, just sit in that blue chair over there and cry. I'll see you after lunch big boy.
When I picked Marty up, he told me that he was crying because another kid was crying, but his teacher told me that Marty was the only one. He also told her that he didn't get any breakfast. Maybe he needs toddler therapy.
Later, when Lauren got off the bus, I immediately opened the investigation, trying to get to the source of the morning misery.
Mommy: Lauren, was someone mean to you before school today?
Lauren: No
Mommy: What happened first thing? Did you give the cake mix and frosting (from the teacher wish list) to your teacher?
Lauren: Yes
Mommy: Did she say "thank you?"
Lauren: No, she didn't say anything.
Mommy (starting to fume because really, that is just rude): She didn't say anything?
Lauren: No. We had a substitute teacher today. And she said when we finish our morning work we hadded to put our heads down, but we only put our heads down when we're in trouble.
Investigation closed.
posted by Shannon at 11:05 PM
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