08 April 2009

I am quite possibly the meanest mom alive.

I feel horrible.

I walked Addi to school just now and forced her to go in while she was crying. Not sobbing, but crying. We stood outside the doors until the last second with me trying to give her a pep talk and she continuing to cry. Perhaps, even harder with every word I uttered. (I think I've figured out my calling is not a coach, of any sort.)

I didn't think it was a big deal, but that's what happens with her. Things snowball and the next thing you know she's crying and can't seem to stop. (I don't know anyone else like this.)

This morning her nose was alternating between stuffy and runny. She wanted to stay home and play. Actually she said she was sick and needed to stay home so she wouldn't have to keep getting up during reading time to get a Kleenex. I won't lie. I was going to let her, but then I remembered she has swim lessons today and I couldn't let her take a "sick" day from school, but go to swim lessons. I reminded her of swim lessons and that she'd be spending the day in bed getting well instead of playing. That seemed to persuade her school was the way to go pretty easily.

Then I told her she needed to hurry and be down to eat by the time "the long hand is on the 6". I walked upstairs to get Levi when the long hand was on the 5 and she was still in her pajamas lazily brushing her hair. She informed me she wasn't going to be ready by the time the long hand reached the 6, so she "changed it to the 8". (How I would love to just change times of things when I was running behind!) Reminding her she wouldn't have time to eat if she waited until the 8 was enough to get her moving, but not without whining.

I opened her lunch box to throw a sandwich in and realized I hadn't looked in it yesterday and a warm yogurt and string cheese were waiting on me. That was the second day in a row she didn't eat those two things and I had to throw them out. Wasting food is one of my biggest pet peeves. More than a pet peeve. I almost get angry when we waste food. She saw my frustration and I tried to explain to her wasting food = wasting money and if we have extra money we could use it to buy food for little boys and girls who are hungry. She, apparently, doesn't fit into that category. Hearing she doesn't like that kind of yogurt was not exactly balm for my soul. I threw a sandwich and half an apple in her lunch and told her when she could manage to finish those and wanted more I'd put cheese in again. She told me she'd rather have chips. (Well, yeah, I'd rather eat Shipley's chocolate filled donuts and Outback's cheesefries with a side of Long John Silver's fried batter crispies all day long!)

We managed to leave for school about 5 minutes early, which was good because we had to stop twice along the 2/10 of a mile journey since she was limping. The more steps I took without verbally recongnizing her injury, the more pronounced her limp became. The cause of the limp? A scratch. I'm not even exaggerating. She even called it a scratch. The first time we stopped, I tried to by sympathetic and reason with her. I saw that scratch and can imagine it's hurting you, but walking funny isn't going to make it feel any better, sweet baby. The next time we stopped, I was a little less patient. Addi, just suck it up. It is a scratch. You don't hobble because of a scratch. You CAN be tough when you want to be. By the time you get to your classroom and see your friends, you'll forget all about the scratch. The tears really started flowing after that. So, we walked the rest of the way with people wondering why I was making my clearly injured daughter hobble to school. She had tears streaming down her face and was limping as if she'd broken a toe.

I'm about to email her teacher and make sure she's fine. Surely she's forgotten all about this morning. Certainly she's not writing about the events in her morning journal, right? (I mean that would really be unlike anyone in our family.) I'm telling myself that part of growing up is learning to comfort yourself. And, really. Really. What was she so upset about?? I could understand tears if I had raised my voice and berated her. The "just suck it up" speech was as mean as it got. Is that really mean? Now I wish I'd let her stay home today.

Tomorrow will be better.

UPDATE: She was fine by the time she got to class. Her teacher said she didn't even know anything was wrong and Addi told me she took a deep breath and made herself stop crying when she walked into the building. Why she couldn't have done that on the way to school, I have no idea! But, she did manage to make me feel guilty all day long. Motherhood is filled with guilt, it seems.