Here I am. Alive. Well. Feeling very much alive and well.
Life is more than busy. Let's face it, it's even more than crazy-busy. It's frantic.
I spend my days (and nights) rushing to get things done. Not even over-zealous things, just the basic things like feeding my kids, washing the laundry, and running to the grocery store. I never imagined mom life being so much work! So, for all of you moms out there, buon lavoro! I try not to be so hard on myself. I mean, I have three kids at home with me all day. Two of them are in diapers. And I'm teaching kindergarten curriculum to Beckham as soon as Ava and Lincoln are asleep (if they sleep) in the afternoon. And I'm taking classes online in the evenings. It's not as if I have a lot of "free" time, whatever that is. Life is busy. And, you know what? Life is great.
Not a day goes by that I'm not grateful for my plentiful life. I have everything I've ever wanted and more. I am surrounded by beautiful family and friends. I have every opportunity available to me. I am obnoxiously spoiled rotten. If you know my husband, you know exactly what I mean. The man is too good to me. And he has given me three beautiful babes that shower me in love day after day. I am, very much, living the life I always dreamed of. Not that things don't go wrong. Oh my goodness, how they go wrong! Just today I had to cancel a playdate with one of my best friends because Beckham got in some serious trouble in child-minding at the health club for having an angry outburst toward Ava and then some of the teachers. And, since he is considered a "repeat offender" there, the three teachers in the room decided to call the general manager of child-minding(jail warden) to come down and control the situation. By the time I arrived, all hell had broken loose.
We've been down this road before. It's one of the reasons why we didn't start Kindergarten this year. I calmly walked over and put my arm around a very angry Beckham, and asked him to tell me, personally, what had happened. He was on guard and felt very much under scrutiny by all of the watching eyes. I wanted to turn to the warden and tell her to back off, to let me handle my own child, thank you very much. But, instead I politely smiled at her and tried to make Beckham feel safe. But, she just hovered and listened and cut me off periodically to add her two bits. It was more than annoying.
It wasn't over anything huge - he had gotten mad about his sister not sharing a toy, and when she hit him with it, he had taken matters into his own hands and took the toy from her. When his sister yelled, "Bub-bub, time out!" he got angry and yelled at her and threw the toy. But, since this is not the first time such behavior has occured, they panicked and decided to make an example out of the lad. I felt bad for the kid. As his mother, I certainly know he can let his temper get ahead of him, but I also know that escalating the problem won't help it. He needs time to cool off, rather than being closed in by three teachers and a lady he's never met before who surround him and tell him what he's doing wrong.
(The last time I saw him in this sort of situation was back in Fayetteville when two teachers closed in on him. He had flat-out taken off his shoe and held it up like a weapon to defend himself as they moved closer, and as soon as one of the teachers grabbed him, he bit her.)
So, here we were again. I waved off the teachers, and got between the manager and Beckham. I talked him down, cooly, calmly, and found out all the details. I wanted to laugh out loud when I found out exactly why he was in so much trouble. Pish posh! Really, that's all! Instead I nodded sympathetically and stood up and faced the manager and assured her that I would handle the situation and it wouldn't happen again. Then I followed through and told Beckham he had lost his privileges for the day since I could not trust him to be around other people if he didn't know how to control his anger. Somehow I felt like I was the one being punished in this situation.
I tried not to cry on the drive home. Not because of him. Not because of the "warden." But because I felt so inadequate. I try to be the best mom I can be. I teach my children right from wrong. I give them choices, with reasonable consequences for their actions. I am firm, but always loving. I don't hover and save them, but I'm not a brutal dictator. Well, not usually. I always ask nicely... again and again, and turn to the drill sergeant voice as soon as it's necessary (more often than I'd like). I try to have a perfect balance of teaching and loving, allowing them to make their own decisions, and then following through with consequences where needed. I spend many many moments dropped to my knees in prayer asking God to please help me be a better mom, to please help me survive a difficult day after a night of no sleep, to please forgive my failings.
Beckham had long since cooled off by the time we got home and was convincing me that it would be alright to go meet up with my friend, but I felt like then he would feel like he was getting away with his recent behavior. So, what is a mom to do?! I even called, right there from the car, and got him an appointment with a psychologist to talk about his anger. He's a normal, albeit rambunctious, five-year-old boy, for crying out loud! Yet, I have people making me feel like I'm doing something wrong!
Anyhow, so that's where I'm at.
Living this dream life, yet crying at the keyboard because I'm just not enough. Not by myself.
I need help. And I HATE needing help.
