While I am certainly not proud of it, I don't want to forget that it happened... so I will now share the events following Jack's' first day of school.
When Jeff and I dropped him off for his first day of school, we couldn't have asked for it to go better. {I would upload the pictures, but I took them on my new iPhone, and haven't figured out the best way to download them to this-here PC.} Mrs. Balido was worried because a parent had brought cupcakes on Day One for the birthday of one of his classmates, but thankfully I had packed her a baggie of egg-free desserts to keep on hand for such occasions throughout the year. We hugged him goodbye, snapped a couple of pics, dropped Davis off in his new 2-yr-old class, and I made it to work on time with no problem.
I thought about him all day, and was relieved when I heard from the daycare that he had arrived safely on the van from the school. While it was good to know he was safe, I felt a pang of disappointment that I had not made arrangements to pick him up from school myself. What a LONG first day for such a little guy. I pushed those feelings aside to try to concentrate on work. After all, my inability to concentrate has become evident at work lately and the pressure is mounting there as well.
So, when the clock struck 4:59pm, I headed to the school, anxious to see how their days had gone. On the way out of the office, I had a stressful work-related interaction, and got caught up in a phone call from a Director ... which continued for many minutes in the daycare parking lot. I was hot and sweaty by the time I got into the daycare. When I picked up Davis, his teacher seemed completely exasperated. Turns out, it was her first day in the new class as well. She told me about Davis' obsession with flipping over the metal chairs, and that he'd pull toys off the shelves which would lead the others to do the same. She also mentioned (add this to the list of things I would rather a teacher NOT share with me) that three of the kids cried "from the time their Moms left 'til the time they got picked up."
Great. That's what I need to hear... so I carried his snotty-faced self over to get Jack. When I walked around the corner, the teacher said, "GUYS, get out from under the table! I am going to count to three... ONE..." and as soon as he said ONE, Jack Everett immediately jumped out from under the table saying, "Sorry..." and then he saw me.
Instead of his usual excitement to see us, he says in a whiny baby voice, "Wah, me no wanna go home. Wah wah wah!" and started acting like a bratty baby. I would have been surprised he was acting this way except that I remember how tired and cranky he was the first day home from Kindergarten. I tried to stay calm, but by this time Davis was arching his back wanting to get down. I looked at Jack... by this time it is 6:05pm and I already feel the pressure of impending 7:45 bedtime... and calmly said, "Let's get your backpack and get home so we can eat dinner."
"Wah, I am too tired. Can you carry it? It's too heavy! I'm so tired. I carried it all the way here from the school. Why can't you just go get it?" Again, trying to stay calm, I bend down, "Jack, Mommy's hands are obviously full and Davis is getting heavy. Hurry up and go get your bag." Well, as any Mom of a Boy reading this knows... little boys can't just walk like normal people... they have to run on all fours like a jaguar, hop on one foot, army crawl, skip, or any variation of movement that does not include walking calmly like a normal person. So, he flies like an airplane around the corner into the hall where the cubbies are, which irritates me immensely. As soon as I get around the corner, Davis throws his arms out to be an airplane too, knocking my sunglasses onto the floor. Mind you, all this is happening while I am in heels.... and sweating.
I pick up the sunglasses and decide to let Davis walk. Through gritted teeth I say, "Jack, hurry up and get your bag. Let's go!" He swings his airplane wing through his cubby without any attempts to actually grab it, and knocks the (brand new) backpack onto the floor throwing the Thermos ($16.99) across the hall onto the floor.
Without hesitation or thought, I just swung my hand and slapped his airplane wing out of the air. He looked at me in complete shock. I had shocked myself. I hit him hard, on his forearm with my bare hand. He just started bawling and I didn't know what to say. I picked up the Thermos, the backpack, and the baby, and started toward the exit. We had to pass by his teacher so that Jack could yell, "SHE HIT ME ON THE ARM!!!" through screaming tears.
Then, and by now I am totally sweating and about to cry... we pass the Daycare Director. When she kindly asks him what's wrong, he yells, "My Mommy HIT ME on the arm FOR NO REASON!!!" She said, "Well, I am sure she had a reason...." to which he replied, "It was just over a BACKPACK! That's ALL! And she hit me HARD!" I said to her, knowing she's a Mom too... "that pretty much sums it up."
By the time I strapped them into the car, Jack is crying, Davis is yelling, "Snack!? Snack?! Snack?!" over and over... and I looked in the mirror thinking, "What am I DOING?"
I apologized to Jack before driving off and he said, "You were so MEAN! You hit me because of a BACKPACK and that's not even IMPORTANT!! Is a backpack important!? Is it?!"
I was not ready to talk about it. I just wanted to tell him to "shut up" but didn't think I wanted to break two of my cardinal parenting rules in the span of three minutes.
When I got him home, it was 6:35pm-ish, and they were starving. They were under my feet as I threw Honeycombs and applesauce on the table. Only for Davis to throw Honeycombs and applesauce onto the floor. We rounded off our meal with sliced turkey served straight off the placemat and some strawberry yogurt. Oh, and they split a slice of wheat bread... with the dog. I got them into the bathtub at 7:20pm and had to spank Davis' hiny because he was standing up and trying to pour water onto the bathmat. I was still in my work clothes with my badge on and sunglasses in my hair, still sweating... when Jeff finally walked in from work.
After saying hello in the doorway, he went straight to the back to change out of his work clothes and I barked at him, "BY ALL MEANS! Make yourself comfortable!!!" I felt so mean and frankly, felt out of control. He dried them off and got them into their jammies while I cleaned applesauce off the kitchen floor. By the time they brushed their teeth and came out with their PJ's on, it was 7:45pm.
Bed time.
Jeff said, "Why don't you go change clothes, and I'll put the baby to bed." So he did. I didn't hold Davis, sing to him, read to him or play with him. Not once. I barked at him and spanked him, but that's it. And he was in bed.
Jack was laying in his bed when I finished changing clothes. I apologized to him, trying not to cry. I asked him to tell me about his first day, and he said he was too tired to talk about it. He told me it embarrassed him that I hit him at his daycare. I know it did. It embarrassed me too. I prayed with him, asking God for forgiveness for not controlling my anger and asked for His help to multiply the time we have together in the evenings.
I called Emily and told her about my evening. I was so disappointed. I had only seen Jack for a minute and a half on such an important day in his life... and I lost it... out of nowhere. Work had me so stressed out that I was at my breaking point when I finally picked him up.
I decided that night that I had to make a change. We have to make a change. This is not working for me.
{The very next night I re-instituted the one-on-one Mommy/Jack reading time, and made sure the rest of the nights of the week were better. They were still completely rushed, chaotic, and stressful, but nothing like Day One.}
Have to go to bed... Davis has his surgery (tubes for his ears) tomorrow and we have to have him there by 6:00am.
More to come on the change... it's in the works and I trust that God will provide a way to restore balance in our home. One way or another.
