Ouch!
"If it makes you feel any better, I really do feel sorry for you right now." This was my husband's comment last night as he watched me hobble to bed. I cleaned the house from top to bottom yesterday (it's an old house so it'll look dirty in about 6 more minutes). I, along with with my four year old sous-chef, baked snickerdoodles for the school bake sale. We went to the Y for a good workout, I made a quick dinner before the rather disappointing school Open House. The note said it was from 5:30-7:00... what it didn't say was that it was a come and go deal, so I raced through the day at breakneck speed and then got to the classroom and stood like a total tool, loitering, while the teacher didn't have the decency to let me know that I could leave and go to the ice-cream social. In truth, it was more like an ice-cream anti-social, and I found myself irritated that my husband wasn't going to be home until late.
The energy I enthused yesterday trying to convince my daughter that "this is going to be such a great year," and "Isn't your teacher nice?" and "That little girl sure seemed like a nice kiddo," "look how pretty your room is decorated," was all deflated by one little 5 year old shit who ruined J's day by saying, "I'm a big girl and you aren't!
Being a big girl is the pinnacle of existence these days to J, so she was crushed and told me that she is "not very happy" and that she is not excited about school. After many attempts to try a four-year-old version of People only make fun of people when they are feeling bad about themselves. I gave up and said that she wasn't being a very nice girl and that everybody has bad days. I stopped short of telling her to say next time, "shut your trap, snaggletooth brat!"
I sat down for the first time at 8:30 last night and at 10, after recuperating with Project Runway, I made the hobble quick-step to my room to get ready for bed. C just looked at me. I was wincing as every part of my body is screaming out--I'm done!! No more stretching, expanding or cramping. My belly is huge and hard as a rock. My feet even feel like they might grow again---and I really wanted to stop at size 9! Some shoes already look ridiculous in a size 9. I don't care that a size 9 is what Jackie Kennedy wore (my mom's favorite line!)
So do I feel better that he feels my pain? Sorta.
posted by Margaret Ann @ 5:45 AM
3 Comments:
Sorry the Open House was such a bomb. I'm really disappointed about the snaggle-toothed brat. I'm sure there will be lots of other nice kids on day one. We'll have to keep her spirits up this weekend. I remember that anxiety before going to a new school like it was yesterday.
oh, i feel your pain! oops, that just echoed the whole issue that prompted the blog. sorry. it's just that noah is officially a textbook 5 year old (which as you know really doesn't mean anything cause a kid could hit the textbook 5 year old point at any given point close to 5). and my mantra to myself and the other 2 in the family is "don't take it personally" or "they don't understand the gravity of the words always and never yet". noah is either angelic, or is the other extreme but in a highly meloncholy- everything is awful and against me- sort of way. part of this phase will change sooner than we can probably even come up with a plan on how to respond in a emotionally healthy way...
so empathy here my dear. you are doing an incredible job of incubating your babe and raising your babe. they will be and are incredible humans...
I'm always sore after cleaning my (also old) house, and I don't even have a bun in the oven. I'm very impressed...
Post a Comment
<< Home