Back To The Bus Stop

Last year at this time I was full of emotion as we prepared to send Chase off to Preschool for the first time. He was three and a half and insisted on taking the bus the short half mile to school. I wanted him to be eager, to be brave and to begin his new journey with excitement. Though a part of me felt anxiety about putting this little human being on a bus I still followed through. I won't forget the look on his face as he walked up those bus steps for the first time. He paused to look back at me, a half smile on his face that was shadowed with a slight look of worry. He turned around as I watched him be guided into a bus seat for the very first time. He looked out his window and I waved to him while clutching his brother to me choking back the sobs I knew would rise as soon as that bus drove away. I wouldn't let him see me cry! Then the bus was pulling away from our house and there was the salty tears painting my face as I walked to the front porch to sit in the rocking chair and cry like a baby. His poor brother looking at me quizzically, wondering what the hell was wrong with mama.

Here we are a year later and soon I will be putting him back on that same school bus. I can say that this year there will be no tears. He gets to go one more day this year ( which makes three afternoons a week! Can you tell the excitement in my typing!) and I am just as elated as he is. Don't get me wrong, I love that boy! As summer comes to a close I know that we both need him to go back to school. We have had several "adventures", a trip to Maine, plenty of beach days, park visits, hikes, and digging in the dirt until he is covered from head to toe.

I also have lost my mind several times over screaming, crying, and repeated fighting. My four and a half year old has seemed to turn into a fourteen year old in the past year. He talks back, sasses, and just the other night he called me a word I won't repeat since apparently he learned it from me. (Fine, you win! He called me a "dick"). Given that last detail I know what he needs is to be around other children and stimulated by someone other than me. Apparently mama is lacking in her verbal skills.

The count down begins. Just a couple of weeks and we both will be much happier. We are fortunate that he gets to go to an amazing preschool program. He is in a classroom with a couple different teachers along with a speech therapist. He gets to have active play, they do circle time, art and he is being taught age appropriate things. Once a month each child has to provide a snack for the rest of the classroom and of coarse this is Chase's favorite thing to do. The boy loves food maybe even more than his mama.

He is forming relationships and learning to bond. I love having him with me yet I know that I cannot give him these things. It is not my job to be his teacher. I am his mother. True my title means I give him a strong foundation to build from yet school is where he gets the building blocks he needs to grow. He is given the chance to learn some valuable things in life by being in a school.He gets to meet people who will be a part of the person he is becoming. He will form friendships that he may still hold onto years from now.

At school he is forced to adapt to a new surrounding. He is given structure and allowed to explore. Then at the end of the day, as I wait for the yellow bus to come drop him off, I am eager to see him. I am anxious to pry out of him what he did for the three hours he was away from me. I can't wait to see the excitement on his face and the sound of his voice as we look at the sheet that is sent home on what they did. My heart is happy and full that I have him next to me again. I am filled with pride at what a wonderful little man he is. I hug and kiss him as he swats me away.

Yes, I am eager to send him off to school again. Does that make me a bad mother? I don't believe so. I am being honest as I believe it is a healthy separation for both of us. I am ready to head to the bus stop and wait for him to walk up those stairs that won't look as big for him as they did last year. I am ready to have some one on one time with his brother. I am anxious for some quiet time where I can get some work done, read and maybe even write a little more. I can go for a run with the stroller. I can clean or exercise without fifty interruptions. Then, at the end of the night he will be so exhausted that bedtime will be sweet as cake.

Just a couple more weeks and it's back to the bus stop. YES!!!

My Son is a Thief

My four year old had been home from school for a couple of hours. We did the usual check in about school, snack time and then he watched some TV. I was cooking dinner while talking to his father when I see this head pop around the corner. Chase, my four year old, had a mischievous look on his face. I looked down to see he had a little toy in his hand. At first glance I thought it was one of his several little Lego guys. Something caused me to look a little closer. I think it had to be the look he had on his face, I just knew something was not right. I asked Chase what he had and he replied with : "A little guy". There he was, little drummer boy.

Because I am Mama, I know every toy my son has. If you are a Mama too you know what I mean. I am always cleaning out, weeding out, and organizing the heap of toys in my sons room. I like to keep this as organized as possible and will occasionally go through his toy box to throw away sort through (shhhh, don't tell him I throw things away!) things which I consider junk. Therefore I am familiar with most of his toys and know almost all their names. This little drummer boy and I had not met. No, Mama never forgets a face!

I asked Chase where he got this "little guy" to which he responded: "In my toy box". I knew Chase was lying and I was trying to give him the opportunity to tell me on his own that he had taken the toy from school. I asked another time and his reply was the same. Hey, I guess if you are going to lie at least keep sticking with the same story right?! Chase had this shit grin on his face though that he couldn't seem to hide away. I directly asked him if he had taken the toy from school. One more time, my son the thief, lied to me and told me that he had found him in his toy box.

At this point I asked Chase to hand to hand over the toy and told him to go to his room for a moment. I needed to take a second to think about what I wanted to say to him rather than react to the fact that he took something from school, then lied to me about it. To be honest I even shared a laugh with his father about it before calling him back to the kitchen. One thing though that I try my best to instill in my son is that in this house, we don't lie. In this house, we are honest. I think I was more upset that he lied to me than the fact that he took the toy. The fact that he took the toy, well that was an entire different set of feelings I was dealing with too.

Chase was asked to come back in the kitchen where we had "the talk" about  how we don't steal and we don't lie about stealing. I asked him how he would feel if someone took his toys and didn't give them back. I then placed the toy on a shelf where he could see it and let him know that he would be the one to return it to his teacher when he goes back to school.

He is Four, I do know this is age appropriate and that this may not be the last time this happens. I have to admit though that something happened inside me. I felt disappointment that he did this. He had never taken anything before. I felt responsible for his actions and even a slightly embarrassed about it.

This has nothing to do with me! No, Chase was just being a kid. He is testing limits, pushing boundaries, and challenging me. That is exactly what he should be doing. He is learning, exploring, and discovering what he can and cannot do. It is my job to help teach him. This wasn't just a lesson in learning for Chase; this became a new lesson for Mama.

This morning as I am sipping my coffee, hearing the laughter from Chase's room, I smile to myself about it. I think it is time for me to pour another cup and continue looking for that parenting handbook...I know it has to be around here somewhere...


Happy Friday Friends!! Have a fabulous weekend!

Turning Water Into Wine

There are some days that I feel like I am getting a hang of this thing called parenthood. I can juggle what feels like a million things and manage to keep both boys alive until bed. Then I wake up and do it all over again the next day. And then there are other days where I wonder how the fuck I am going to make it past the next temper tantrum or attempted murder by toddler (I am convinced he is trying to kill his little brother). I try. I do. Each day I try to be a little better. A little more patient. A little more gentle. A little more accepting. Some days I succeed more than others. Those others, they make me want to start the day over and try again.

I wonder, did Mary ever have this problem with Jesus. Okay, so I get it, Mary had more patience than ten woman combined. I wonder though, did Jesus ever have act like my three year old? Did he ever get time outs? (Insert sarcasm here people) I am just saying, I am not a saint. I strive to be better but some days are are more of a challenge than others.

I will admit, I sometimes wish I could be more like that "other" mother. You know the one I am talking about. The one who seems to have it all together. I realize that not all things are as wonderful as they seem. We all know that it is easier to have more patience and keep ourselves grounded when surrounded by other parents. Yeah, I am sure some of you are reading this and think that one should always maintain themselves even when not in front of others. Sure, but are those people human?!

Every situation is different. Each child is different. Each home and family has its own set of challenges and small mountains to climb and conquer.

I guess I just don't want to feel like I am the only one who harbor's these feelings. I know, I am just one is a sea of mommy's who struggle with this. That is why I am writing about it. Lately I have felt stuck in this notion that I am just not getting it right. That I am not being my best. Some nights I lay down in my bed wondering how I could have done it better. I lay there promising that tomorrow I will get it right. 

I want my children to have memories of their mother that don't have the words "crazy" or "scary" in them. I want them to know that even through those "moments", that I love them fiercely. I want them to feel how my heart swells for them and though mommy may seem like she is losing it some days, that she would never trade a second of it. In every moment of chaos there is love.

I am learning. Some days struggling. Failing.

Then I hear the laughter. I join in the dancing in the living room. I watch the smiles on their faces. I may not earn mother of the year today or tomorrow. With every job we do most of us take time to climb the ladder of success and get where we want to be. I am climbing mine. Learning each and every day how to get this thing called "parenting" right. I'll get there. You will get there. There may be screaming, crying, and temper tantrums (I am not talking about the kids right now) but we will get to a place where we stop beating ourselves up and start toasting to the fact that we made it another day.

Cheers!

(It was Jesus himself who turned water into wine. Possibly he knew mothers everywhere would need this to get them through their parenting years. Well done Jesus, and Thank you!)